They Never Wanted a Female Gamma, So I Built the Pack That Beat Theirs novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: The Pin

The first snow came on the ninth of November, big wet flakes that stuck to the culm bank and turned it into a black cake under sugar.

I climbed the outside stairs behind the hardware store on Centre Street at nine at night.

My boots left prints on every step.

I had told my father I was going to the cemetery.

He had looked at me from his bed with those tired gray eyes and said, "Take a coat."

He knew.

I knocked once.

Matthias opened the door in his shirtsleeves, collar open, a pen still in his hand.

The room behind him was small, a bed and a table and a lamp and a trunk of ledgers.

A map of the county hung on the wall with red pins stuck in it.

He saw the snow in my hair, and the pen stopped moving.

"The recess started eight days ago," I said.

"You're off the roll."

"I am," he said.

"Then it's off," I said.

"What is?" he said.

"The pin."

I stepped past him into the room, and he shut the door behind me.

The latch clicked.

His pin lay on the table beside the lamp, the small silver key on a stack of papers.

He had taken it off before I knocked.

"You knew I'd come," I said.

"I hoped," Matthias said.

"I have hoped for nine days.

"I am a very careful man, Miss Dzurenda, and I have not been careful for nine days."

"Zosia."

"Zosia," he said, as if he were reading it off a page for the first time.

I crossed the room and took hold of his plain gray tie.

"Say yes," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"Say it again."

"Yes," he said, lower.

I pulled him down to me.

There was no brick in this kiss, and no rule.

He put both hands in my hair, and the pen fell on the floor.

I felt the whole long length of him against me for the first time, hard through his trousers against my belly.

I made a noise into his mouth, and he backed me against the table.

I shoved him off, and he stopped at once with his hands up.

"Not yet," I said.

"My terms."

"Yes," he said.

"You do what I say."

"Yes," he said again.

His chest was heaving.

"You don't touch me until I tell you," I said.

"Yes," he said.

I put my hands on the buttons of his shirt.

I undid them slowly, one at a time, watching his face, and with every button I felt his breath change.

His chest was lean and pale, with an old scar along the ribs that I did not ask about.

I pushed the shirt off his shoulders, and he let it fall.

"Sit on the bed," I said.

He sat.

I stood between his knees in my wet coat and took it off, and then the sweater, and the blouse under it.

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