The Last Generation - Chapter 1

Here you go! There may be some formatting errors, Blogger doesn't like being correct in those areas. :p It is also a very rough draft, so...comments welcome!


Chapter One

“Ow!” A sharp pain racked through Dakota O’Neill’s left arm as someone whacked it with their book bag in an endeavor to get past her. “Watch it!” She instinctively hissed as she whipped her head around. Scanning the frenzied crowd, she looked for the person who had been in such a hurry. Whoever it was had long since disappeared into the seemingly numberless mass of high school students. Dakota gently massaged her wrist and scowled. This is crazy. Who would’ve ever thought that a high school would seem like a concert for the hottest band in the country?
She looked around at the crowd for a moment; there were kids crammed shoulder to shoulder in a tiny cafeteria that was unworthy of the task it served. The small space was regularly shared by all of the students in both the high school and the middle school and was usually packed with no free room to breathe.
Dakota blinked and winced at the throbbing in her arm that reminded her of the old injury. She looked down at the skin covering her knuckles and the upper joints of her fingers; the area was peppered with whitish spots and lines that had a different texture than the surrounding skin. It was the place where she had ground her knuckles into the abrasive road.
She clamped her right hand around her left wrist and rolled the stiff joint around until it cracked. Grimacing at the sudden pain, she relaxed when the pressure almost automatically lifted. Dakota held her left hand up to eye level and flexed her fingers and wrist. Content with the ache and stiffness that usually befitted the joints; she gritted her teeth and examined it thoughtfully. It had never fully healed.
Sudden deep resonant hums and high-pitched squeals from the microphone made everyone in the cafeteria instantaneously cringe. All sound except for the chorus of groans that came from the annoyed teenagers was immediately cut off. Every head turned toward the temporary stage that was set up at the head of the room. A tall, slender woman stood in front of the microphone; her face looked fairly young, but the barely noticeable gray that streaked through her hair discreetly announced her age. The noises of unfazed kids chattering and laughing started to rise again.
Dakota watched the woman’s forehead draw down into an irritated crease; the lady reached down to adjust the microphone to her own height. With a poised flip of her dark hair, the woman jerked her jacket straight and glared at the entire crowd disapprovingly.
“Will everyone please quiet down?” Her strong and commanding voice seemed to escalate in reverberation as the sound reached each student’s ears. Every head turned back toward the voice attentively. The prattle and clamor were silenced in an instant; every person’s rapt attention was on the woman.
The woman’s stern appearance softened to a bright smile. All of the lines and grooves in her face flipped upward in delight. She suddenly started laughing cheerfully, upholding her graceful composure while cracking up. She held her hand to her chest and stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath. “You guys wouldn’t believe the outrageous looks that you gave me.” She resumed her bout of mirth. “That was classic!”
Everyone was motionless and silent as they tried to absorb shock. Nobody, especially Dakota, knew what to make of this woman’s peculiar outburst. Dakota watched suspiciously as the lady, clad in a black pantsuit, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that was given to her by a nearby teacher. The woman chuckled a bit and clapped her hands together in front of her. “Well, now that I have your attention, let me introduce myself.” Her green eyes grew vivid as she illustrated her sentences with her hands. “I am Jocelyn McCauley, Mrs. McCauley to all of you. I’m the principal here at Alliance High, and am the co-principal with Mr. Greeley of Alliance Middle School. So, for all of you who are new students here this year,” She lowered her gaze for a moment and swept it across the room. Her emerald tinted eyes almost seemed to study every student in the room, and for some reason, settled upon Dakota for a much longer period of time than the rest.
Dakota felt her face grow bright red. Suddenly feeling guilt like she’d just committed a murder, she ducked her head timidly and didn’t make eye contact with Mrs. McCauley. But, for some reason, she was more curious than afraid and coolly flicked her eyes back to the stage. Mrs. McCauley’s bright and cheery face had moved on, looking through the crowd. Dakota jadedly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. What is it that makes people look at me like that? It’s as if they can all see straight through me.
Mrs. McCauley hastily broke out into a nauseatingly fake smile, opened her arms wide and continued her speech. “For all of the new students here with us, we warmly welcome you to Alliance High!” A scattered bit of applause echoed awkwardly through the gymnasium.
Dakota stared down at her shoes; they were scuffed, worn, and deserved a proper burial after all they had been through. She scoffed as she stubbed the toe into the tile floor. What a joke. She crossed her arms tightly, and stared hard at her shoes. She didn’t feel very tolerant right now. She lifted her eyes to gaze out of a nearby window, fading the noise around her as muted sounds whispering from a mile away. With a sigh, she thought back to that morning.
She hadn’t exactly gotten off to a great start with the people in charge; her attitude had gone down the drain ever since she arrived at the Twin Eagles Group Home three weeks ago. This morning was concrete evidence that most of the volunteers had already given up on her. She couldn’t blame them; she felt like she barely knew who she was anymore. Most of the time, she couldn’t find a motive to wake up in the morning and face life. Pure obstinacy on her part was the only reason she gritted her teeth and kept on.
Dakota rubbed her eyes and adjusted her vision to the busy city street outside. She was sure that she would be greeted with disgusted looks and accusing stares when she got back to the home after school. Right now, she wasn’t really sure if she cared or not. Too many things had turned her life inside out in the past three years. She just didn’t know what to think about anything anymore.
The last family that had taken her into their home, the O’Malley’s, welcomed her with smiles and open arms, even after they’d read file after file that the system had on her. For one moment, Dakota truly thought she had found a place where she would belong. The young couple promised that they would stick with her through thick and thin; they swore to nurture her and love her, unlike the foster family before them. Still uneasy and hesitant to get close to anybody else because of the abuse she endured from the previous family, Dakota kept the couple at arm’s length.
Feeling that they had failed and couldn’t get through to her, the O’Malley’s took her back to the system under false statements that Dakota “had trashed their property numerous times”. They did all this because they wanted a kid who wasn’t a “withdrawn psychotic”, as Mr. O’Malley told her in exasperation one day. The system hadn’t even bothered to investigate, and worked on sending her somewhere else. That was four weeks ago.
Dakota was tired of trying to live up to people’s standards when nobody ever appreciated her, ever. She was fed up with being used, then tossed aside like garbage. Why try to get someone to love you when they’ve already made up their mind that you’re nothing but a worthless girl? It hurt her every time; though each time it hurt a little less, like her heart was silently growing numb.
Dakota shifted in her chair. This morning had been one of her quieter days, though it wasn’t one of Kat Myers’, one of the counselors working at the Twin Eagles Home.
“You are nothing but bad news, Dakota O’Neill!” Mrs. Myers had said, shoving her fists onto her hips. “I’ve heard not one good thing about you since you’ve gotten here, only countless bad things! The latest in is how you’ve beaten up some first graders while you were Iowa because you didn’t want to be transferred here to Nebraska.”
Dakota stiffened defensively. “I didn’t beat up a first grader!” She shook her head in disbelief. “I couldn’t do that.” She looked at her feet. Not after what the Warners did to me.
Mrs. Myers looked up with an eyebrow cocked. “No, you didn’t beat up a first grader; you harassed a group of them. You’re a regular tyrant.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.” Dakota’s voice raised in pitch, she was about to scream in frustration. She looked back to the floor. If she only had a penny for every time someone accused her of something she wasn’t guilty of…
With an irritated flip of her brown hair, she grabbed Dakota’s chin and yanked it up. She zeroed in on Dakota’s eyes and locked onto them. “Oh yeah? I guess you didn’t shoplift from a convenience store before you left, either. Oh, and I also heard that you were passing out drugs to some of the kids a week after you got here. I’ve got three kids who swear that they got their joints straight from you.”
Stunned, Dakota blinked and stared at Mrs. Myers. “I-I’ve never done drugs before.” Anxiety coursed through her. Why was everyone so dead-set against her? All she’d done was get settled in, and people were bearing down on her like vultures. She’d truly never done any of that; well, none except for shoplifting, but that was a long time ago. Was there a neon sign that read “guilty as charged” flashing over her head or something?
“Just because you’ve never done drugs doesn’t mean you’re not selling them.” Mrs. Myers clamped her hand harder on Dakota’s chin, then let go. With a deep scowl on her face, she shook her head. “The way you are, Dakota O’Neill, you’re never going to get anywhere in life. As of now, you’re already going to be doing a few years’ time for that whole drug thing; we just need to get the police in this now.”
Dakota couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I haven’t done anything wrong! You’re blaming me for things that I didn’t do!” Her voice was loud, shrill, and carried throughout the home. “I’m sorry that I’m ruining your happy lives; it’s not like it was my choice to come here in the first place.” She straightened her posture and glared into Mrs. Myers eyes.
Mrs. Myers frowned. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t my decision for you to come here, either. This is a home for kids who are willing to listen, willing to change. It’s not for kids who are impossible to get through to. If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota scoffed. “Why try to amount to anything when nobody cares? Why try if I’m always going to be beat down like I’m the bad guy?” She grabbed her bag off of her bed and turned on her heels, storming out of the room. Mrs. Myers’ words echoed in her mind like an unwelcome thought. “If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota shook the memory off and tore her stare away from the window. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Despite her attempts, dread settled down on her conscious.
“You will amount to nobody…” She huffed slightly and crossed her arms. What does she care, anyway?
A loud clap abruptly rebounded through the room. Dakota jolted upright and cast her wide eyes to the front of the room. Mrs. McCauley stood with her palms together, an expression of satisfaction etched on her face.
“That’s better.” Mrs. McCauley said with a grim smirk. “I was afraid that I would have to come down there and wake up the distracted students myself.” She folded her arms delicately. “Trust me; none of you would want that to happen to you.”
Dakota swallowed hard at the ominous smile that spread onto the principal’s face. Guilt once again flooded her and rose to her face as a deep blush.
Mrs. McCauley adjusted the microphone. “Okay, where were we? Ah, yes…locker combinations, a map of the campus, class schedules, and homeroom assignments will be in the packet that you’ll be given when you walk out to explore.” She paused. “Any questions?”
A short, red-haired girl stood and boldly tossed her hand into the air.
Mrs. McCauley nodded. “Yes? What’s your name?”
The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Marci Phillips, a freshman.” She said proudly. “Where is your son? Did he transfer to another school?” Excited murmurs and giggles suddenly exploded from the girls. Marci glanced around and laughed.
Mrs. McCauley placed her hand over her mouth and chuckled. “You mean Reece? He still goes here, he’s a sophomore now, he actually moved up a grade last year.” She shook her head with an amused expression. “His homeroom is room number 23, second floor.” The girls immediately broke out into squeals and shrieks that could shatter glass.
Dakota grimaced and rolled her eyes. Those girls need to get a life. She looked back to the principal.
Mrs. McCauley clasped her hands. “Alright, with that, you are dismissed. Don’t forget to collect your packets on the way out. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
Dakota braced herself for the flow of students. She was swept out of her chair and corralled to the door in the current of teens. Struggling to at least get her bag on her shoulder, she stumbled and tripped toward the tables by the exit. Several boxes were lined up in a row and had bold capitalized letters on the front for easy identification. She drifted into the line that had the box with the “O” painted on the side.
A young, dark-haired man with tanned skin was standing by the doorway handing out packets. “Name, please?” He said, a showman’s smile painfully stretched from ear to ear.
Dakota shifted her bag to a more comfortable position. She looked down at the table and spoke softly. “Dakota O’Neill.”
“Dakota O’Neill,” He repeated, rummaging through the overstuffed envelopes. “Ah! Here you are!” He handed her a huge white envelope. “Thank you; stand over there, please. NEXT!”
Dakota moved to the spot where the man pointed and stood there, slightly unbalanced because of kids constantly bumping into her. She gingerly opened her envelope and looked inside. She pulled out the papers and studied them for a moment. Her class schedule was on one, along with her locker number, and personal information.
A feeling of dread washed over her as she thought about having to come here each and every day, all day long. Part of her felt sorry for the teens she would be having classes with. Why would they want to be around a “criminal”? Dakota knew that if she were normal, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a ragged, forlorn girl who was rumored to have dealt drugs, robbed a convenience store, and beat up little kids to the point of hospitalization. Nobody with any brains would do a crazy thing like hang around with her.
Her stomach starting to churn with anxiety, she clutched the papers to her chest and hurried out the door. She couldn’t stand to be in there anymore. There were too many people, too many judgmental stares. She trotted down the hallway and burst out of the doors. She gasped in a breath of deliciously fresh air; her stomach gradually calmed down. She found a bench nearby and collapsed on it, cradling her head in her hands. I hate my life.
She looked up and surveyed the school grounds. I can keep all of this from happening; nobody will notice that I’m gone, and by the time that they do, I’ll be out of the state. I’ve done it before.
She hung her head and sighed deeply. But what about after that? Get caught and be shipped off to some foreign foster home again?
Slumping down further, she sighed and rubbed her eyes. Going through three sets of foster parents, all of which didn’t want her, started to get hard after a while. The first set, the Williams, took Dakota in a month after she was caught stealing from a store. They loved her, or, at least they seemed to, and took care of her. She started to slip down on her grades because of others pushing her around at school. The Williams didn’t want to get too close to Dakota, so a year afterwards, when she turned thirteen, they gave her up.
Dakota ran her fingers through her hair shakily. The second family, the Warner’s, Dakota almost couldn’t bear to think about. They hated her, she knew it. Every time she said or did something wrong, either Mr. or Mrs. Warner would hit her. They had a son, Myles, who at the time was eleven, only two years younger than Dakota. They didn’t spare him either. They beat him just as hard as they beat Dakota, sometimes even harder. And she ran away without him, and never looked back.
She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat and looked back down at her papers; she didn’t want anybody to see her revealing tears. Nobody knew that she had betrayed a friend, possibly to his death. Nobody could know. She never even knew what became of Myles. When she told the foster system people the whole story, and showed them her bruises and cuts, they went to check it out, only to find the house vacant. They hadn’t believed her. She shook her head at herself. “What I wouldn’t do to go back and change everything.”
“Go back where and change what?”
Dakota jumped at the voice and whipped around, a deep scowl on her face. “Nothing. What’s it to you?” She instinctively retorted. A girl about her own age strolled around the bench to face her, her jet-black hair was tightly pulled back into a ponytail. She looked down at Dakota; her brown eyes seemed to dance with laughter.
“Sorry if I scared you,” The girl said, pulling her purse up higher on her shoulder. “My friends say I have a tendency to do that.”
“Whatever.” Dakota murmured, casting her eyes downward, a little ashamed of the way she had reacted to the unfazed girl.
The girl sat down beside her. “You’re new to this school, aren’t you?”
Dakota nodded, still staring at the ground. There was no way that this girl would get her to talk; she was determined.
“Cool, you’ll like it here.” The girl sounded encouraged to keep talking. “What’s your name?”
Dakota looked up at her. “Dakota O’Neill.”
A comical look passed over the girl’s face and her eyes sparkled with accomplished satisfaction. “My Momma talks about you sometimes! You’re new to the Eagles Home, too.” She grinned, her white teeth shining against her ebony skin.
Dakota’s stomach did a flip. “How’d you know that?”
Charity’s grin grew broader. “My Momma runs the place. She pours her life into the home. You’ve met her, haven’t you? Serena Jenkins?”
The blood drained from Dakota’s face. Great. Just great. She thought of the tall woman who was just another glaring face at the home. She gave Charity a jerky nod of affirmation. “Yeah…I’ve met her, alright.
Charity turned toward the door. Dakota watched in silence. Charity turned expectantly and motioned for Dakota. “You’ll like my Momma, she’s great. She isn’t smothering or anything. Come on; let me give you a tour of the place so you don’t get lost tomorrow.” She bubbled.
Dakota blinked. This is going to be such a nightmare.