Three Years Later
POV - Alpha Kyas
It was Cale who started it, who planted the seed. In my second year as Alpha, Cale got up one morning, raced downstairs, and stole Everyone's forks. Including…his. He placed them all in my chair for a nasty surprise when I sat down. I yelped and removed them from my seat. He hadn't yet perfected the innocent face, and set up giggling. I set them on the table.
I had settled on calling him Father, as opposed to Alpha or Papa. That's the base of what he was to me.
When Father came to the table, and found his fork gone, he demanded it back. Cale instantly engaged.
"I don't have it anymore, Grandpapa." he said.
"Then where is it?" Father said.
"I gave it away, I didn't want it anymore." Cale said.
"I want my fork back, Now, Cale." Father said. His authority unchallenged.
Until Cale challenged it. "Nope, I gave it to the pigs." he said.
Father's mouth dropped open. "You did what?" he said.
"They wanted it more than I did." Cale said. "You can go get it back though. It might be dirty."
I saw it… Father… defeated… by a seven year old. He growled and went to the kitchen for a new fork. I fixed Cale with a look. My…hero. And then, the planning began. I grinned.
The invisible me I had been fighting since childhood seemed to be a habit that Father couldn't break. More than once I had been forced to leave rooms in anger at being ignored for seemingly no good reason. At some point, no matter what we were doing, he became complacent, that I wasn't going anywhere, and then… nothing. He still looked right through me. Sometimes, many times a day.
I decided to test the idea… with spit balls. We were in his new office, the old one now being mine, and I had asked him to look over plans to renovate the school, if not rebuild it. At one point, he became lost in thought, pushed me aside… and forgot me. To his credit, he had never "lost" my pups yet, taking my warning seriously, as he should have, but long habit of doing it to me had continued.
I tested. Can he see me if I move? I walked around his desk. He registered the movement abstractly, not looking up. I tested it more than once, pacing in front of his desk. A time or two he looked up as I moved, but searched the room for the disturbance, without seeing me. I guess that made sense. As a child, I had been in my corner. Not still, but invisible. And he never saw me going back to the long tables during that defiance either.
I loaded my straw… and fired. Hit him in the forehead. He seemed shocked. When he found out What had hit him, even more shocked. How?... I fired again, got his cheek. Third shot got him between the eyes. He was getting angry. On the fifth shot, a miss that clipped his ear, he registered the direction, and… caught me loading shot number six.
"Kyas… what are you doing?" he asked. Ahah… I am visible again.
"I'm loading another spit ball." I informed him. And I did, and I fired it point blank. Yes! Another forehead shot.
He wiped it away. "Stop it. Now." he said.
"But I want to. It gets boring when you can't see me." I said.
"I sa-" he started, but I fixed him with a look. I know very well when he loses me. He looked down. "I'm sorry son, again."
"I know you can't help it, Father. I've decided that I'm just going to have to entertain myself in… other ways until you remember me." I said. And loaded number seven. And hit him in the chest with it.
"Kyas…" he warned. I grinned. "Ok, I'll stop."
I went back over to discuss what he had been thinking. We talked for a few minutes, until he again became lost in thought… and lost me again. He set his pencil, where he had been making notes down and I snagged it. He couldn't find it. He opened his drawer for another one, and I snagged his supply. Again, he registered the movement, but only slightly. Something was off, but he couldn't place it. He opened the drawer again, and I snagged the pencil he had just gotten. No more pencils. I moved back to my spitball shooting spot. He becomes very confused. I decide to give one back. I threw it at him, and hit him in the chest. The next one hits his arm. He catches me about to throw number three.
"Kyas! What are you doing?" he barks.
"Apologies, I thought you might need a pencil." I said. And I threw number three… chest shot again.
"Stop it, Kyas." he said in warning.
"I don't want to." I said. And tossed number four. Miss.
"Knock. It. Off." he said. Such a temper. I grinned.
"Ok, I'm good… until you forget me again… then I'll have to keep… entertaining myself." I said.
"We're supposed to be working on this together." he said.
I stood up. "You're right, and I'll work with you on this all day long, but if you make me bored… forget about me… I'll find… other things to do." I said… this time, my own warning.
The third time, was priceless. I tied his shoes together, then knocked his notebook off the desk. He went to get the notebook and fell hard. I laughed and he knew exactly where I was then. I picked up the notebook took it to him on the floor, and dropped it on his chest.
"I think you dropped this, Father." I told him.
He was furious. And… then I loaded another spitball. He fixed his shoes and stood up, glaring at me over his desk. I took aim… another forehead shot? "Kyas, STOP!" he said, full command. "NO." I broke it, and fired the spitball. Direct hit.
I grinned. I pointed at myself. "Alpha. Kyas." I clarified.
I approached his desk like a predator, and matched his angry stance and his glare.
"I'm about to have a LOT of fun. I can't make you see me, Father, but I can make you wish you had."
And then I threw my last pencil at his chest. He roared and went for me, but I was out the door and down the hall. I waited… was he going to chase me? Or did I win? He came to his office doorway. He saw me down the hall. The same hall he had looked right through me countless times.
"Come back here, boy." he said.
I grinned. "Make me." I said, and took off. I was halfway across the glade before he tackled me. It was a mad wrestling match, me trying to find his weaknesses while he tried to pin me down. He won, but I had found one of those spots. Noted.
"You got something you want to say to me, boy? He said.
I grinned. "Now you see me, Papa."
He was shocked, which let me get a leg over his head and across his chest and twist him off me. I patted his chest as I got up. I walked back toward the packhouse.
"Where are you going?" he yelled.
"Planning session with Sir," I called back, "For ideas on what to do when I'm bored."
After a month, he learned to get Very worried if he couldn't see me. Especially after the water balloons. And the ones that contained more than water. After two, he could be found tracking me when I entered a room. He didn't trust me. He shouldn't. I liked it. It was like playing with one of my pups. After six months, Cale and Violet were not the only ones that looked at me suspiciously when I got gravy on my shirt. He was no longer immune to the diaper wars either.
After a year, he no longer made me bored, but that didn't stop me… now I just did it for fun. After the third year, a reward. He got to be Papa.