dakota

Chapter 1

Sat, 26 Oct 2013 03:06:16 +0100

Chapter 1

I sighed, remembering things from my past as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The earliest memories I had were short and fuzzy. Most were of my father and I, from a time where everything was perfect, when I could be myself and not be judged, when I felt loved… Before anything went wrong.

One of the clearer images was of my mother and I sitting on opposite ends an old green couch in my bedroom; she on one end, and I on the other. Before she came in, I had been playing at the desk. Now, we both sat, silent and serious. Even at six years old, I could easily pick up on moods, and hers was serious. Something bad was about to happen, and I knew it was huge. My first step-father was somewhere else in the trailer house, but I didn’t care at the moment. After a moment, she spoke, “Nana just called,” she said, “Your dad’s dead.”

At that moment, my life came crashing down. I hadn’t expected something that bad, and I didn’t see my dad often. Despite that, I loved him more than anyone else I knew, save for my great grandpa, who I had equal love for. Once my mother’s words sank in, I broke down. As a six year old child, I hadn’t known pain like that, and I shouldn’t have. No child should. A man had robbed my father from me, and I had to live with that for the rest of my life. I was too powerless to have done anything. Maybe if I’d pushed harder to go see my dad a few days ago, he wouldn’t have gotten shot.

Or maybe I’d have been shot with him.

Either way, I wouldn’t have had to suffer like that.

After that, I lived in death’s arms. My father had been the first of many deaths, and aunts, grandfathers, cousins, grandmothers, and my great grandfather followed. My mother was never there for any comfort. The morning after my dad’s death, she didn’t show any sympathy. I got in trouble when I said I missed him. I was alone, and death was always around the corner, consistently stabbing me in the back, forcing me to watch people I loved die, making me regret letting myself get close to anyone.

By the time I reached my teens, I’d fallen into the arms of depression, and death took a few steps back as I suffered. I fell in step with the emo kids, and eventually, once my mom had married her fourth husband, started cutting myself. I despised him with every fiber in my body, and she didn’t care. Her husband saw my shredded arms and caused a huge fight.

After that, I was in and out of psych wards. Eventually, things calmed down. I returned to my mother’s house, and enrolled in the public school. My third year there, I had emigrated into the school’s outcast population fairly well. I had a boyfriend and my own group of what you might call friends. Wary of death, however, I kept them at a distance on my end of emotion. They didn’t seem to mind; they were my boyfriend’s friends.

I didn’t ask my mom or her husband to help me out with school supplies when I was starting the fourth year; I knew they wouldn’t buy anything quality or more than fifty cents. So, I got a job and worked all summer so that I could buy myself quality things that fit my style to last the year. I was going to be a junior in high school, and I wanted to look good. I also got two lip piercings with the leftover money, and black hoops to go in the holes. Mom’s husband didn’t approve, and I didn’t care. I got my hair dyed black and put neon pink, green, and blue streaks in it. Before, I’d had brown hair and ice blue eyes, like my dad. I hadn’t looked emo in the slightest.

I arrived to the school an hour early, thanks to my bus, which picked me up five minute’s drive from the main building. I knew it was a short drive, but the way I saw things, I could sit for five minutes with annoying kids, or walk for an hour and be sweaty when I arrived to the school. If the weather was clear and cool. If it was raining or hot, then I was screwed.

Students were supposed to go to the cafeteria when they arrived to the school, and my group had always had the same spot; the corner. Of course, people constantly gave us looks, expecting us to sit down in our corner and start cutting ourselves. I hated that, but had come to get used to it. Taking a seat at one of the corner tables, I began thumbing through a novel about a travelling freak show, a vampire performer, and his assistant.

Before I could get started on the book, someone sat down beside me, silently setting their bag directly in my peripheral vision, which was a huge distraction for me. I looked up at the person, only to find my boyfriend, Mario, sitting beside me, meekly picking at his fingernails in his lap. I smiled slightly, recalling how sweet he was. His friends said that I wore the pants in the relationship, but it didn’t matter. Mario was sweet, even if his meekness wore on my nerves a bit. “Hey,” I said, “How was your summer?”

Mario looked up at me, smiling faintly. “Fine,” he said softly, “And yours? You weren’t in the wards again, I hope.”

“Not this summer. I was at home long enough to keep a job most of the summer. Like the new look?” I asked, gesturing to my new facial piercings and hair. Mario’s smile widened slightly.

“Now you look like one of us, not that they’ll care” he said, referring to his friends. His smile vanished and he sighed. “But are you sure you want to be in this group permanently?”

“Mario, your group’s the closest I’ve become to actually being accepted by anyone since…” I began, but trailed off, remembering how, after my father’s murder, I’d been an outcast. I cut myself off from people, and no one made an effort to approach me. My father had been the only one who’d actually accepted me, and I knew that, even if my memories of him were few and vague.

“Since…?” Mario prompted. I hadn’t told him about my dad. A few of the other people in our group arrived, and complimented me on my appearance change, then moved on to catching up with Mario, not giving me any trouble like most other students did, but not making any more effort to talk to me than they had to. Thankfully, I could sneak off without having to answer Mario.

At seven thirty, I went to the library, and Mario followed. Our group barely noticed my absence, but spent several minutes saying goodbye to Mario and telling him that they’d see him later. “I’m sorry,” he said once we were alone. When I looked confused, he explained, “They aren’t really trying to be friends with you. They still make you an outcast.”

“You think I care anymore?” I asked, almost laughing at him.

“No, but still. I hate how they exclude you, Dakota. They tease us about me not being the man in the relationship, and they say you should have the dick instead of me,” he said, looking down. “It’s my fault that they say those things. If I were more outgoing, then maybe they wouldn’t.”

I sighed. “Mario, stop. They’re teenagers, and they’re going to say things whether they’re true or not. You shouldn’t let it get to you.” I said, “Then again, sometimes it takes a lot to get someone to be desensitized to things.”

“I guess,” Mario said, opening the library door for me. The librarian, Ms. Sprenger, smiled and waved at me as I entered, knowing me well from how often I’d been in the library over the past few years. I quickly made my way to the fantasy section, looking at the new books. I saw several new series, and a couple of them were on my list of books to read. I grabbed two and checked them out. The bell rang twenty minutes later, and I was still looking through the books.

I sighed and left the library, not waiting for Mario, because I didn’t want to deal with him at the moment. I’d gotten hung up on memories of my dad. No one could bring me out of that. Looking at my schedule, I made my way to my first class: English.

I entered my English class moments before the bell, taking a seat in the back corner. When the bell rang, the teacher gathered his papers from his desk and moved to the front of the room. The students who had already arrived knew that, since it was the first week, the teacher would wait a while before actually starting his introduction. He was tall and thin, with brown hair and almost unnatural brownish-red eyes. He wore a white button up shirt and a plain black tie with black slacks and dress shoes.

Once most of the students had arrived, he cleared his throat, a signal for the students to be quiet. When they didn’t shut their mouths, he stood and clapped a short rhythm like the kindergarten teachers did, earning annoyed stares from the students. “Do I have to do that every time you wont shut up?” he asked. “Am I going to have to treat you like children? Because you’re not, and I’d be extremely annoyed if I had to deal with slow teenagers all year.” he said, clearly annoyed. I, however, was in my corner seat, smirking. I’d always liked teachers with an attitude, and this guy definitely had one. “Now, children,” he said, “My name is Micheal Grey. You’ll address me as Mr. Grey. This is, obviously, English three. If you haven’t figured that out yet, I don’t know how you made it this far, and I’ll have to have a talk with your previous teachers.” he began pacing the front of the room. “I’m not going to bother giving you those papers asking about you, because frankly, I don’t care. My job is to teach you. No more, no less. If you think I’m an ass,” he said, and the class began whispering and exchanging glances, not used to teachers using profanity, “Then you better not be an ass back. It’ll get you kicked out of this room. Now, some of you may want that, but I’ll tell you now that when you end up in ‘In School Suspension,’ I don’t send work, and you will fail. If you’re serious about passing, you’ll deal with me, and if you do get sent out, you’ll come get the work between classes. Not before or after school, and I won’t write you a pass to your next class,” he finished, moving towards his desk. “Oh, and don’t try passing notes or using your phones. I’ll know. I’m finished. Read a book or something. It might make you smarter.”

Once Mr. Grey had seated himself, he turned towards his computer and began reading a news article with his back to the whole class. A girl on the opposite corner of the room, with long blonde hair and equally long legs, slipped her phone out of her pocket and began texting on it, obviously experienced in the art of texting during class. Mr. Grey sighed, “Ms. Shepard, bring me the phone,” he commanded. She quickly hid it.

“I don’t have my phone out,” she protested.

“You did a moment ago. Bring it to me or I’ll get it myself.”

“Try it!” she exclaimed, “My daddy has plenty of money! He’ll hire a lawyer and we’ll press charges for sexual assault!”

“Right, because confiscating a phone from a student’s pocket is going to be a big deal for me.” Mr. Grey said sarcastically. The girl scoffed, not moving. Mr. Grey sighed and stood. He walked over to her and held his hand out.

“Hand it over, Ms. Shepard,” he commanded again. When the girl still didn’t move, he turned and walked away. Suddenly, the girl lept to her feet, screaming.

“My phone! It’s gone! But how--?! He didn’t touch me!”

“Ms. Shepard, you’re delusional,” Mr. Grey said, holding up the girl’s phone. “You handed this over yourself. I didn’t have to touch you.” he said, the class nodding with him and staring at the blonde as if she were crazy. Before she could respond, however, the dismissal bell rang, and the students filed out. I was one of the last, and as soon as I’d exited the room, I busted out laughing. The whole situation amused me greatly, but several hallways later, I realized that Mr. Grey really hadn’t touched the girl, and that the entire class had played along with him. They seemed to believe him on the first day, when normally, students did anything but listen to their teacher. One or two students might play along, but not a whole class, and not without a word spoken to them. I began to suspect that Mr. Grey wasn’t normal, but quickly dismissed the theory. Even my fantasy novels, people were conscious while being controlled by something, and it showed in their eyes. I doubted it was mass possession. Maybe I dreamed it, I thought.

Chapter 1

Sat, 26 Oct 2013 03:00:48 +0100

Chapter 1

Or maybe I’d have been shot with him.

Either way, I wouldn’t have had to suffer like that.

Mario looked up at me, smiling faintly. “Fine,” he said softly, “And yours? You weren’t in the wards again, I hope.”

“Not this summer. I was at home long enough to keep a job most of the summer. Like the new look?” I asked, gesturing to my new facial piercings and hair. Mario’s smile widened slightly.

“Now you look like one of us, not that they’ll care” he said, referring to his friends. His smile vanished and he sighed. “But are you sure you want to be in this group permanently?”

“You think I care anymore?” I asked, almost laughing at him.

“I don’t have my phone out,” she protested.

“You did a moment ago. Bring it to me or I’ll get it myself.”

“Try it!” she exclaimed, “My daddy has plenty of money! He’ll hire a lawyer and we’ll press charges for sexual assault!”

“Hand it over, Ms. Shepard,” he commanded again. When the girl still didn’t move, he turned and walked away. Suddenly, the girl lept to her feet, screaming.

“My phone! It’s gone! But how--?! He didn’t touch me!”