Rejected By My Hockey Alpha

Penelope's POV

Walking into school Monday morning feels like walking into a firing squad.

The whispers start the moment I step through the front doors. Groups of students cluster around phones, pointing and giggling as they watch the video of my humiliation on repeat. I keep my head down, clutching my replacement textbook, and pray I can make it to first period without completely falling apart.

"Hey, Stalker Girl!" someone calls out, and the hallway erupts in laughter.

My cheeks burn as I hurry past, but there's nowhere to hide. The video is everywhere playing on phones, shared in group chats, turned into memes with cruel captions. In every version, I look exactly like what I am: a desperate, pathetic Omega who doesn't know her place.

"Penelope, wait up!" Isla Quinn's voice stops me just outside my physics classroom, she is a new student. She transferred this semester from some pack up north, and for reasons I can't understand, she's decided we're friends.

"I saw the video," she says bluntly, falling into step beside me. "That was brutal."

I want to deny it, make excuses, pretend it's not as bad as it looks. Instead, my eyes fill with tears. "Everyone thinks I'm a freak."

"Everyone thinks lots of stupid things," Isla replies, tossing her auburn hair. "Doesn't make them true."

*****

We settle into our seats just as Professor Williams calls for attention, but I can feel eyes on me from every direction. When Timothy walks in thirty seconds late because star athletes can do whatever they want the room goes silent.

He doesn't look at me. Doesn't acknowledge my existence in any way. He just slides into his usual seat in the front row, in his usual all casual confidence and designer clothes, while I shrink deeper into my chair in the back.

"Today we're discussing quantum entanglement," Professor Williams announces, and I almost laugh at the irony. The universe's idea of a joke learning about impossible connections while sitting ten feet from the boy who'll never see me as more than an embarrassment.

Timothy raises his hand. "Professor, what happens when two particles are entangled but one is fundamentally incompatible with the other?"

My heart stops, the question feels loaded as if it was directed at me. Around me, students shift uncomfortably.

"Well," Professor Williams adjusts his glasses, "that would be to break the entanglement so that the particles would become separate entities again, with no connection."

"And the incompatible particle?" Timothy presses, still not looking my direction. "What happens to it?"

"It returns to its original state," the professor replies. "Alone."

The word hits me like a punch. Alone. That's what Timothy is telling me without saying it directly that whatever impossible connection I imagined between us is exactly that. Imaginary.

Lyra whimpers in my mind. He doesn't mean it. Something's wrong I can feel his wolf reaching for us.

But I don't trust Lyra's instincts anymore. Hope has made me delusional enough.

Class drags on forever. Every second feels like torture, knowing Timothy is so close but might as well be on another planet. When the bell finally rings, students flood toward the door, chattering about weekend plans and upcoming parties I will never be invited to.

I'm shoving my books into my bag when a shadow falls across my desk.

"Penelope."

Timothy's voice sends shivers down my spine. I look up slowly, afraid of what I will see in those storm-blue eyes. He's even more beautiful up close sharp jawline, perfect features, the kind of bone structure that belongs on magazine covers.

"We need to talk," he says quietly, glancing around to make sure no one's listening.

My heart leaps foolishly. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the physics lecture wasn't a message. Maybe

"Meet me at Moonlight Lake after the ceremony tomorrow night," he continues, his voice businesslike. "And come alone."

Then he's gone, leaving me staring after him with my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of humiliating encounters. Someone has printed screenshots from the video and taped them to my locker. A group of Alpha daughters corners me in the bathroom, making snide comments about knowing my place and reaching too high.By lunch, I'm hiding in the library, too mortified to face the cafeteria.

Isla finds me there, slumped over my untouched sandwich.

"Rough day?" she asks, dropping into the chair beside me.

I gesture weakly at my phone, where notifications keep pouring in. The video has spread beyond our school now, shared in pack group chats and social networks. Comments range from mockingly sympathetic to downright cruel.

"Look," Isla leans closer, lowering her voice. "I don't know what's going on between you and Timothy Blackthorn, but."

"Nothing," I interrupt quickly, my voice cracking. "There's nothing going on. That's the whole problem."

"Are you sure about that?" She studies my face carefully, tilting her head. "Because the way he was looking at you in physics class didn't seem like nothing."

My heart leaps foolishly. "You think so? You really think he was looking at me?"

Isla's expression turns concerned. "Penelope, I'm not sure that's."

"He was, wasn't he?" I lean forward desperately, grabbing her arm. "I felt it too. There's something between us, something real. The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes."

"The Moon Goddess?" Isla's voice grows gentle, like she's talking to someone fragile. "Honey, you don't even know if you're mates."

"But we are," I insist, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I can feel it. Lyra can feel it. When he looked at me in the tunnel, there was recognition in his eyes like felt the bond too."

Isla opens her mouth to respond, but I barrel on, lost in my desperate fantasy.

"He wants to meet me tomorrow night," I blurt out, then immediately regret it. "At Moonlight Lake after the Moon Ceremony."

Isla's eyes widen with alarm. "Penelope, that's that's where wolves go to discuss serious pack business. Or."

"Or what?" I ask breathlessly, hope blooming in my chest.

She hesitates, biting her lip. "Or to reject mate bonds."

The words should crush me, but instead I shake my head frantically. "No, you don't understand. If he wanted to reject me, he would have done it already. This is different. This is him choosing a private place where we can talk honestly."

"Penelope" Isla starts, but I'm already lost in my delusion.

"Maybe he has to be with Madison publicly because of pack politics," I continue, my voice growing stronger with false conviction. "But privately, he knows we're meant to be. That's why he looked so conflicted in physics class."

"I'm such an idiot," I whisper, burying my face in my hands. "I thought maybe.God, I actually thought maybe he felt something too."

"Hey." Isla's voice turns fierce. "Don't you dare talk about yourself like that. If Timothy Blackthorn is too blind to see how amazing you are, that's his loss."

But I can't accept the comfort she's offering. Not when the evidence is overwhelming. Not when every logical part of my brain is screaming that I've been living in a fantasy world.

The final bell rings, and students begin filtering out for the day. I watch them go laughing in groups of friends, casual couples, people who belong somewhere.

"I should go," I tell Isla, gathering my things. "Mom's working late, and I need to help with dinner."

"Want me to walk with you?" She offers genuine concern showing her features.

"Thanks, but I'm okay." Another lie to add to my collection. "I'll see you tomorrow."

The walk home takes me past Timothy's neighborhood, a detour I usually avoid because it only feeds my pathetic obsession. But tonight, I can't seem to help myself. Maybe I need to practice what I will say to him tomorrow night. Maybe I need to prepare for the most important conversation of my life.

I stop across the street from the Blackthorn mansion, hidden behind a cluster of pine trees. Through the enormous windows, I can see glimpses of a life I'll never touch chandeliers, expensive furniture, the kind of luxury that comes from generations of Alpha blood and political power.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, my breath fogging in the cold air. "Tomorrow night, I will tell him how I really feel."

I clear my throat and try again, louder. "Timothy, I know this is complicated, but I think the Moon Goddess has a plan for us."

A jogger passes by, giving me a strange look for talking to myself. I duck deeper into the shadows, but continue my pathetic rehearsal.

"I don't care about pack politics," I practice, gesturing to empty air. "What we have is bigger than rank or status. You feel it too, don't you? The connection?"

Even as I say the words, part of me knows how insane they sound. But hope is a disease, and I'm terminal ill.

My stomach suddenly cramps violently, doubling me over. The stress, the heartbreak, the crushing weight of tomorrow's meeting it's all catching up with me at once. I barely make it behind the trees before I'm retching, my body rejecting everything as surely as Timothy will reject me.

When the nausea passes, I'm left shaking and weak, clutching a pine trunk for support. This is what love does to someone like me it destroys me from the inside out.

Timothy's black sports car sits in the circular driveway, and I wonder if Madison is inside with him right now. Probably planning their future together while laughing about the pathetic Omega who thought she had a chance.

My phone buzzes with another notification. Someone has created a meme using a screenshot from the video my face photoshopped onto a picture of a homeless dog peering through a restaurant window. The caption reads: "When you're an Omega but think you deserve Alpha attention."

The comments are even worse:

"Omegas these days have no shame."

"Someone should teach her some respect."

"Timothy should press charges for harassment."

I delete the app before I can read more, but the damage is done. This isn't just school gossip anymore it's pack-wide humiliation. By tomorrow night, every wolf in Frostfang territory will know about my shameful obsession.

Standing in the shadow of Timothy's perfect life, clutching my secondhand jacket against the cold, I practice my speech one more time.

"I know you're supposed to be with Madison," I whisper to his darkened windows, "but what if the Moon Goddess has other plans? What if we're meant to change everything?"