I pushed open the door to room 303. It was a medium sized study room, furnished with all the accoutrements you'd expect from the Keystone Academy. A sleek line of high-end Apple computers. A leather couch and armchairs facing a large pull-down projector screen. A conference table in the center. A whiteboard on one of the other walls.

The room was empty—or at least I thought it was empty. I poked my head in, thinking I might've gotten the wrong room, when a voice called out.

"Finally! You guys are late."

An arm thrust up from the couch and waved. I stared silently, unsure what to say. The stranger grabbed the back of the couch and hoisted himself up to look over the cushions at me. He was an alpha with dark hair and dark eyes, the polar opposite of my blond hair and blue eyes, and he stared at me with an expression that looked neither surprised, nor welcoming, nor upset. He just looked... kind of vaguely unfriendly. His tie was draped casually over one shoulder, and his hair was pressed up like he'd been lying on it for some time.

"Oh," he said. "Never mind. This room is taken." He slid back down and disappeared behind the couch.

"Isn't this the Death March Study Squad Club?" I said, walking into the room.

"Who told you that?" the guy asked.

"It's kind of listed on the school's website. I'm a freshman and this quarter has been absolutely kicking my ass, so I was hoping to find some people going through the same thing..."

He sat up again. "Right, well, whatever you think this club is, it's not. In fact, it's not even open to the public, so... sorry."

"Not open to the public? This isn't a fraternity, right? It's listed on the school's website, anyone should be able to join." I didn't know why I was arguing. I didn't even know what the club was about or if I wanted to join, but I guess the sudden and rude denial had gotten me heated.

Tall, dark and douchey stood up from the couch, his blazer slipping down his front from where he'd been using it as a blanket. I craned my neck to look up at him. Alphas were typically taller, but this guy was tall. The sleeves to his uniform dress shirt were rolled up to reveal muscled forearms and a very expensive-looking diver's watch. He obviously came from money, as did so many from this school. Not me. Grandpa had been wealthy, but a lot of that money was long gone due to poor investments made when Dad was still alive. At the very least, I could say I hadn't gotten into the Keystone Academy because I was rich.

"Mm, yeah," the guy said. "But that's not how this club works." He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around towards the door. "Anyway, thanks for stopping by. If you want a study club, try Omegas for A's. They meet on Wednesdays down the hall."

"Oh, so it's because I'm an omega? Is this club for alphas only?"

"It's for approved members only."

The door opened right as he was about to grab the handle, and two alphas pushed their way in. The first had long dirty-blond hair done up in a man-bun, and a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He had the kind of friendly, easygoing expression of someone who got along with everyone.

The second alpha was what I might call roided out, the kind of person who spent a lot of time in the gym. His wavy, light-brown hair, dark rimmed glasses and soft features gave his face an interesting contrast to his aggressive build. He said nothing as he passed me.

"What up, Viggo," man-bun said. "Who's this guy?" He gestured towards me.

"No one," dark and douchey—Viggo—said. "Wrong room." He pushed me towards the door.

"Hey—" I started to protest, but the door shut firmly behind me. I stared at it, bewildered. What the hell was that about?

Whatever. Obviously, the Death March Study Squad was not what I thought it was. I turned and started my own little death march back down to the first floor of the library, where I needed to get some actual studying done before my next class. Joining a club was a dumb idea, anyway, and I definitely wasn't going to be joining a club called Omega's for A's.

I sat down at a long table where a scattering of other students had their noses in their textbooks, earbuds plugged into their ears. They all looked so damn focused and intellectual and composed, like they were all in their element. I felt frazzled and discombobulated, like I was barely clinging on for my own pitiful life. I wasn't a genius like Dad had been, even though I’d grown up believing I was. Boy, if Keystone had been anything, it was a severe reality check.

Back in my hometown, I'd always soared through classes, no problem at all. I wish Dad had kept my ego in check. Certainly he must've known it would be like this? He'd spent most of his life in Elworth, where the Academy was located, and then moved to Fallbrook after meeting Mom. What a downgrade. It must've been like moving from a huge mansion to a studio apartment—which wasn't so far from the truth, if what I'd been told about Dad's childhood was accurate. For me, coming to the city was just as shocking. The noise, the people, the pace of life... Everything was big, overwhelming and hard to deal with. I felt completely out of my element, and the dumbest part about it was how much I'd looked forward to getting out of Fallbrook. I practically wouldn't shut up about finally moving to Elworth and finally getting into the Academy. It was no wonder I didn't have any friends.

I stared at the notes I'd scrawled into my notebook in minute, nearly microscopic lettering. My head spun.

It sucked not having anyone to rely on, no one to turn to. Mom was always busy traveling for work and was barely around. We spoke on the phone whenever possible, but it was always rushed. I understood why she'd thrown herself into her work like that. It was all she could really do to cope with Dad's passing, and I guess that was what getting into Keystone was for me. But now that I was here, it felt like I'd been cut loose and was just floating without any kind of safety line. The only thing still pushing me forward was the desire to prove to do my Dad's memory right and graduate from the school. It was vastly overwhelming. I felt like a crinkled-up ball of paper being smashed smaller and smaller by the weight of everything.

* * *

A few hours later after the end of the school day, I dragged my near lifeless corpse to the part-time job I had at Sheddy's, the bar down the street from my apartment. It was good work for me; I didn't have to think too much and the tips were enough that I could actually cover my living expenses. The worst part about it was having to serve all the Keystone students who came in. It just boggled my mind that these kids were not only able to afford multiple rounds of the overpriced cocktails at Sheddy's, but that they even had the time and energy to go out in the first place.

"Two Macallan 18s, neat," I said, sliding the glasses of scotch towards the alpha in the Keystone blazer. A part of me wanted to qualify myself to every KA student I served here. "I go to the Academy, too! I'm just as capable and put together as you are!"

The alpha threw a hundred-dollar bill down onto the counter like it was a piece of extra scratch paper and scooped up the glasses of whiskey to take over to his date, an omega also wearing a Keystone uniform. I watched as the two of them scooted in close to each other, their thighs touching flirtatiously. I had no clue how anyone could manage dating while at this school. Where did the energy come from? The time? It was mystery to me. Surely there had to be someone who felt the same way as I did. Or was wearing a mask of confidence and composure just one of the key skills one learned at the Academy?

I might've been top of the class in high school, Mr. Know-everything-about-everything, but I definitely didn't know anything about dating. I'd never been with an alpha before, never even holding hands. Not that it was much of a surprise. But it wasn't really a big deal. I figured that if it was going to happen, the occasion would present itself eventually. Really though, I had my doubts that it ever would—but I was fine with that. I was used to it.

I collected some of the used glasses that had been returned to the bar and turned to put them into the washer when a voice called from down the bar.

"Excuse me, can we order a drink?"

"Sorry," I said. "I'll be right with you."

I closed and started the washer. Wiping my hands on the front of my apron, I went to go take the orders and received a little shock of surprise when I saw who my new customers were. The trio of alphas, the so-called Death March Study Squad.

The guy from the couch, tall, dark and douchey, aka Viggo, was leaning on the counter, tapping it impatiently with one hand. I hoped that he wouldn't recognize me without my uniform on, but from the way his eyes flashed when he saw me I knew that it was too late. He closed his hand into a fist and touched a knuckle to his chin.

"Oh, it's you," he said.

The other two turned. Man-bun grinned when he saw me and quickly slid onto a stool. "We're sitting here," he said.

"Dane..." Viggo said.

"I'm fine with here," the beefy one said, sitting down next to man-bun, aka Dane.

Viggo shrugged. "Alright." He sat on the stool in front of him. The three of them had changed from their uniforms. Viggo wore an expensive looking leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt with a pair of dark indigo jeans. Dane had on an eclectic mishmash of bohemian fashion, the kind of stuff that looked like it was supposed to be hippie and thrifty but probably actually came from expensive designer brands and cost more than my entire wardrobe. The big guy was the most plainly dressed. He still had on his glasses, with a faded hoody and a hat with Keystone Academy's football team logo on it. The Wolves. Or was it The Hounds? I wasn’t interested in football at all, so I wasn’t sure.

"The Death March Study Squad," I said. "What'll it be?"

Viggo quickly glanced around, as if I'd just announced something secret. "Three beers. Open a tab, please." He put a credit card down on the counter. Viggo Scott, it said. "Sure." I put it in the box of credit cards and then poured the three beers.

"That's impressive," Viggo said.

"What is?"

"You working here. Do you do it for fun?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it wouldn't be my first choice for a way to spend the free time from class, but I totally get the desire to work. I'm guessing you're that kind of person."

For a moment I had no idea what he was trying to say, and then I understood: he thought I was working at Sheddy's because I was a work-a-holic, not because I had to support myself. I smirked, amused at his gap from reality.

"What kind of person?" I asked.  

"Someone who loves to work. Keystone is full of them. You did seek out a club called the Death March Study Squad. Probably not the first thing most people would go for."

"That's not why I work here," I replied.

"Then why do you work here?" he asked.

The big guy smacked Viggo's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Some people actually need to pay their own way through school, Viggo."

Dane laughed. "Yeah, c'mon, man."

"Oh my god," Viggo said, looking legitimately embarrassed. "My bad. I didn't... I just... Wow, I feel like an idiot."

"Don't worry," I said. "That's me every day at this school."

"Yo," Dane said. "What you're doing is seriously impressive, though. Working and going to Keystone? Most people here couldn't handle that. I mean, you got in. That says enough. You could've gotten accepted on a football scholarship like Red here." He jerked a thumb at the big guy, who held up his middle finger.

"And I'm doing just fine," Red said. "Last time I looked, I had a better GPA than you.”

"Ohhh," Viggo groaned.

Dane shrugged and took a swallow of his beer. “Touché.”

"Don't you guys ever feel like maybe it was an accident you got in?" I asked. "Like maybe you actually aren't good enough?"

"Nope," said Red.

"Not at all," Dane agreed.

"Oh," I said.

"It's normal to be overwhelmed," Dane said. "But really. All those rigorous tests and the stuff you submitted for the application? That was all you. You and you alone."

"But what if you had family who'd gone here before? Maybe that influenced their decision.”

I didn't know why I was suddenly spilling out my insecurities about all this to these three strangers. I guess it had been building up, and I'd never really had a chance to sit down and get to know any of my fellow Keystone classmates.

"No," said Red, his voice soft and thoughtful. "Dane and I knew a guy in high school who always bragged about how he came from a long line of Keystone graduates. Richard Ellis. Remember that guy, Dane?"

Dane snorted. "How the hell could I forget him?"

"Yeah. He didn't get in. He was smart, too. Just didn't have what it took, I guess."

"I feel it," Viggo said. He took a casual sip of his beer and looked at me. "The imposter syndrome."

Dane and Red looked at him. "Really?" Dane asked.

"Sure. All the time."

"You're the last one of us I would've expected to hear that from."

"I get by in class. People call me smart, but then I go and say stupid things like I did earlier. Makes you wonder how smart you really are. What happens when you get sent out into the world?"

"It's no big deal," I said, laughing.

Viggo didn't say anything and drank from his beer glass.

Dane leaned over the counter and grinned at me. He had a charming smile, and his friendly grey eyes twinkled brightly. "By the way, I'm Dane. This is Redmond, we call him Red, and Viggo."

"Brendan," I said. "It's nice to meet you."

"So, what's your deal, Brendan?" Viggo asked. "What are you majoring in?"

"Aerospace engineering" I said.

"I'm a chemical engineering major," he said.

"Business," said Red.

"Also chemical engineering," Dane said.

"So you want to be a rocket scientist, huh? How's the major?" Viggo asked.

"Brutal," I said. "Incredibly brutal. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely hanging on. I moved here from a pretty small town. I had no idea how unprepared I was."

"What you need is a support group," Dane said. "You know what? You should come hang out with us."

Viggo looked shocked. "Uh, hold on. Maybe we should have a group discussion about this?"

"What's there to discuss? We're seniors, he's a freshman. He could use a guide to getting through this place in one piece. Imagine surviving Keystone without each other?"

"Well, how about the sanctity of our group dynamic?"

Dane laughed. "We're just helping a guy out, that's it. Why're you getting all jealous?"

"I'm not," Viggo said.

"Hey, it's okay," I said, holding my hands up. I had no desire to intrude on anything, and I honestly didn't have any interest in joining them. "I just thought you guys were a study group. I wasn't actually looking for anything else..."

"Dane's right," Red said. "We've always had each other's backs. It would be terrible to try and get through here without that support."

"Really, guys," I said. "I mean, who said I didn't already have a support group..."

"Do you?" Viggo asked. All I could do was blink at him.

"Come by room 303 again tomorrow," said Dane. "Really."

"Yeah," agreed Red.

Viggo sighed and wrapped on the counter with his knuckles. "Fine. Yeah. Come by."

"I mean... We'll see," I said. The thought of it suddenly felt extremely weird and uncomfortable. Me hanging out with three, admittedly very attractive, alpha seniors? I was an awkward loner omega. I wouldn't know what to do, what to talk about. I just wanted to blow off a bit of steam and develop better study habits, not make friends. Right? Or was I just trying to convince myself in order to get out of a potentially embarrassing situation?

"It's up to you," Dane said. "But I'd love to have you come."

I had to admit, hearing him say that made it a lot more enticing.