Step 1: Learning the Basics

Okay…so…you want to learn how to write? It’s a hard thing, writing. It’s not like you can learn it overnight or something. It takes a long time. And I mean a long time. It took myself at least three to four years to get as good as I am today.

          Let me backtrack for a moment here.

          My name is Dakota, Dakota Hemingway. I am a writer. Well, not professionally, of course. I’m still very much the amateur. I just turned fourteen this past March and entered high school (yea?). I love to roller skate and spend time with my mom, whether it be at the mall or just at home helping her make dinner. She’s my number-one idol. I love her lots.

          Of all the things I love to do, writing is my favorite activity ever.

          I became a writer in the fourth grade. I was always the outcast, the weirdo with goofy glasses. Kids either teased me or just avoided me all together. So, to have something to do, and to get all those negative feelings down, I began to write. I don’t know how I began to do it, I just did. I guess it all began with this new school copybook I took from my mom’s school supplies.

          The pages were crisp and clean. I’d breathe it in and it’d smell so new and clean and untainted of the world’s pollution. At first, I was afraid to write in it, but once I began, I found I couldn’t stop. It was so addictive like drugs, yet in a good way. It had a high that never went away and always kept you hooked, wanting more and more every time you did it.

          Now you see how good of a writer I am? Only a writer would be able to make you see things that clearly. I’ve always been able to see things that way, even when I was younger. I have always been thinking and have never been able to stop. I always daydream constantly.

Okay, I am so getting way off topic here.

Some kids don’t know what it’s like to be the outcast. When I was in elementary school, the other kids would always around without even thinking about it. They’d push me and poke at me, and I knew they could get away with it because I never did anything.

But…I swear, now that I’ve entered high school, things will be so much different.

When I’m older, I want to publish a book. I want to make my mom so proud of me. I want everyone to see that I’m…worth it after all.

For now…why don’t we begin?

 

My eyes feel itchy.

They always do when I first wake up in the morning. I don’t know why, but they always are.

I open my eyes further, taking in my dark surroundings. It was all black except for the sunlight that poured in from the various corners of my shades. I blink once and glance at the glowing green numbers on my alarm clock, squinting hard without the aid of my trusty glasses.

My eyes turn the size of saucers as I see the time.

7:16

“Oh s**t!”

I throw the covers off of my body and literally leap right out of bed and feet first onto the floor. I flip on the light of my lamp and rummage through my drawers for some decent clothing. I fling a pair of dark blue worn jeans and a plain red T-shirt onto my bed along with underwear, a bra, and deodorant. I slip on everything as quickly as I can. I rush into my bathroom and brush my teeth like crazy, barely tasting the mint of the toothpaste on my tongue. I spit it out and swish water around in my mouth before spitting that out, too.

I run a brush hastily through my hair, but stop once I catch a glance of myself in the mirror. I look closer despite the time.

Freckles dot the bridge of my nose and the area beneath my eyes. My cheeks are round and full of still lingering baby fat. I lift up my cat’s eyes glasses and place them on my nose and see my hair clearly. It’s dark, dark red and stick-straight so I can’t do a thing with it.

I groan as I glance at my body. My body’s not what you’d call “skinny,” but I’m not fat either. More like a balance in between. I mean, I have a shape…sort of, but it’s mostly hidden by grotesque baby fat (so not my fault). I haven’t really grown into my body all that much, but my mom says I will soon enough. Probably by junior year.

I grimace at my body’s entire outlook. I take off my glasses for a moment and gaze into the mirror at my eyes, the only real and true beautiful feature I have.

My eyes are slightly tilted, but not too much. Just enough to make them appear attractive. The color also is nice. It’s a bright green and very eye catching. It looks almost emerald except for this single tint of ice blue in it with some brown flecks here and there. I get my eyes from my mom. She’s so, so pretty with her wavy red locks and sparkling green eyes. I may not look exactly like her, but someday I hope I do.

I smile in satisfaction at my eyes and put on my glasses once more. I continue hurrying, grabbing a Slimfast on the way out to school. I run, my backpack weighing heavily down upon my back.

“I am so gonna be late,” I mutter to myself as I jog, barely breathing at all. I am really out of shape. Lately, I haven’t been doing much, despite the skating my mom and I usually do on Saturdays together. (And if I didn’t  mention my mom, it’s because she gets to work really early in the morning so that she comes home in time to make dinner.) Anyway, I’ve been writing most of the time so between that and exercising, I’ve been real busy.

I jog and jog, my muscles ache so, so much! I am really out of shape. By the time I get to school, the bell didn’t ring…yet. I push open a door and enter. People barely glance at me as I pass by, but others push me with their shoulders, not even bothering to apologize. Someone then pushes me hard from behind and my books go flying all over the hall floors. As I bend over to pick them up, someone else shoves me down hard and I hear cruel laughs from behind me.

“Umph!” I grunt as the breath is knocked right out of me.

“Get away from her! Leave her alone! Kit! Kit! You all right?”

I look up at my friend Shane McGrady. My hair is now tangled and hanging over my face. A piece of it falls in front of my eyes. I glance at it from underneath my crooked glasses and blow at it.

“Fine.”

She helps me up and as I dust myself off, I smile at her gratefully.

“Thanks for the help, Shane.”

“Well at least my Kitty-cat is okay,” she confessed, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and patting me on the back.

Shane is like a sister to me, considering I’ve never had one, I wouldn’t know what a sister’s like. She has a little brother herself, but he’s, like, twelve. You can imagine the relationship the two have. (And if you can’t, well let’s just say it’s chaotic.) And the reason she calls me “Kit” is because it’s a childhood nickname that stuck. Everyone I know has always called me Kit, never Dakota (except for those who don’t know about my nickname and when my mom gets uber-pissed at me, which is rarely.)

“Why do they do that?” Shane thought aloud to herself, her tender brown eyes flashing with anger.

“You know why.”

“Yeah, but they have absolutely no right to push you around like that!”

“I don’t mind. I’ll be out of here in three years, anyway. I’ll find a way to deal with it.”

Shane glares at me. “‘Deal with it’? Kit, when are you ever gonna start standing up for yourself?”

“When God gives me wings.”

“And I highly doubt wings would look that good on you.” We both turned at the voice. Dante Tanaka, a Japanese-American boy and our friend, stands there smiling at the both of us. “Personally, I think pig ears would appear more flattering.”

“Where were you when Kit here was getting pushed around?”

Dante approaches us, his smile dwindling down to a smirk.

“I told those idiots off. They won’t bother you anymore. At least not today.”

“Thanks. Shane, can I have my shoulder back?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” She unhooks her arm from around my shoulders and draws them to her sides. She rubs her chocolate-brown skin, which is a constant habit she’s obviously not aware of.

One thing about my school you should now is that it’s known for it’s diversity. I’m definitely not racist. (Just letting you know ahead of time.) Seriously, it is. There’s a lot of culture in my neighborhood. Mexican,. Japanese, African, Brazilian, French…tons. And it’s the exact same with my school. Personally, I think I’d be boring with just one type of culture. Why not have the whole entire world with you?

Shane’s African-American and her ancestors come from Ethiopia (I think; I forget), and Dante’s parents came here back in the seventies so they know some English but taught Dante some Japanese. Sometimes I hear him talking to his mom in their native tongue. It sounds way cool and makes me wish I could travel the world and learn some languages myself. Unfortunately, I’m denied that kind of freedom because my parents aren’t exactly what you’d call “rich.”

“Thanks, Dante. You guys are such good friends,” I say to the two of them. Shane smirks, crossing her arms and shaking her head at me. Dante just simply hunches his shoulders. He does that when people thank him. I suppose he’s just shy that way. He brushes back a few stray locks of his black hair back into his head, but they escape once he does.

“Don’t you think it’s time we got to first period, guys?” Dante asks, raising a single eyebrow at me as I pick up my books from the floor. He bends over to help me with my stuff when the second bell rings.

“Yeah. Probably a good idea,” retorts Shane. She points a thumb at the vibrating bell on the wall.

I drop my books quickly into my red and black backpack and sling it over my left shoulder. The three of us rush to class in order not to be counted as tardy. We’re all in the same room in first period Algebra (thankfully). I suck at Algebra, and because Shane sits next to me, she helps me out. She is a math whiz. I don’t know how anybody could love math. If I had it my way, I’d turn Algebra into an arts and crafts period. I rock at making things out of any kind of material.

As soon as we sit down, Mr. Vanderbilt starts talking.

“Beginning of the year…that means most students don’t remember how to properly work out mathematics equations. Because that’s often so, today we’ll be reviewing the basics of Algebra…in case some of you forgot…turn to page twenty and read over the section on how to work out steam-and-leaf plots…and do a few from the book…”

I sigh. Something I actually know! Shane looks at me knowingly, but I shake my head “no.” She shrugs, but glances at me uncertainly every so often to check up on me. It’s nice that she cares, but sometimes I wonder if she’s too much like Hermione Granger from Harry Potter (if you’ve read it, you’ll know what I’m talking about).

With the greatest of ease, I look over the numbers and circle the greatest and the least; I take the numbers and separate them into different categories. I do some math mumbo-jumbo on the rest and I’m finished. And it isn’t that hard at all because the last thing our teachers from middle school reviewed with us at the end of the year was, coincidentally, steam-and-leaf plots. It was still very fresh in my mind.

Mr. Vanderbilt appears right in front of me. He raises an eyebrow questioningly at me.

“Miss Hemingway…you’re finished already?”

“Yep!” I chirp proudly and show him my paper.

He takes it and idly glances over it. The frown on his face deepens.

He hands the paper back to me.

“Your work is excellent…your writing is atrocious…”

He walks off to check on other students. I sit there gaping for a second at the wall. A spark ignites in me.

“What"did"he"just"say?” I fume calmly.

Shane, who had overheard the entire, bent over her desk to talk to me.

“I’m sure he meant nothing by it, Kit. Calm down, would you?”

“How"can"I"possibly calm"down?” I snip at her. I shove my paper in her face. “Does this look ‘atrocious’ to you?”

She looks over my paper; she bites her lower lip.

“Well?”

“Um…it’s very unique, your handwriting…”

She hands the paper back to me, hesitant that I might blow up on her. I don’t, though. I evenly control my temper until it dies down into cooling embers.

I zone out when Mr. Vanderbilt starts speaking. Out of the corners of my eyes I look around. And do you know what I see? A Grecian hottie right in the room! Chiseled jaw, slight tan, dark wavy brown hair that hangs a little over his face. Mmm…yummy…

I gaze at him, watching the sun making his perfect skin glow with all its might. Why do gorgeous boys always pose so perfectly? Especially in the sun? It’s like a thing or something. Whatever…he is so scrumptious!

Still gazing at him, I tap Shane’s desk with my fingernail.

“What?” she whispers.

I glance at her and back at the hottie.

“See that hunk over there? Who’s he?”

“Evan Waters. Most gorgeous guy, if not popular, in the school. He doesn’t even have a girlfriend.”

A dreamy smile creeps onto my lips.

Shane c***s an eyebrow at me and smirks.

“Okay, what are you thinking?”

“Single and gorgeous. Sounds perfect, no?”

By this time my grin grows even wider.

“Kit,” rasps Shane, “do not even think of it!”

“Why?” I ask, looking at her. “I thought you said he wasn’t taken.”

“He isn’t. And that’s why most of the girls in this school want him. He’s single and charming. What more do you need?”

“I guess you’re right,” I say. I sink into my seat. “Besides, just more humiliation for me!”

Shane doesn’t say anything more, but just keeps on with her work. All through the class I try my best (I try!) to pay attention to Mr. Vanderbilt’s review of steam-and-leaf plots, covering the basics I already know, but my gaze keeps shifting to Evan Waters. Once he ruffled his hair with one hand, looking deeply bored with the entire lesson. The ruffling his hand through his hair was like rippling chocolate. I almost sigh. So CUTE!

A few minutes later, the excruciating torture and the bell finally rings to announce the end of Period 1 and the beginning of Period 2. Dante and Shane gather around me and we walk out of the room together.

“Hey, does any one of you have…um…” I look at my schedule for a moment. “…Biology next?”

“Not me,” says Shane. “I have Gym instead.”

“I do,” replies Dante. He points at his next subject.

“Yeah! I’m not alone!” I shriek. Some kids stare at me as they pass us.

“Kitty-cat,” Shane giggles, “you are so strange.”

I turn to her and wink.

“Just more excitement.”

Shane crosses her arms and shakes her head at me, smirking all the while. We depart for our classes.

“We’ll find you after class is over, okay?” I say.

“Okay,” she answers.

“Shane is right,” says Dante, “you are strange.”

“When dealing with me, strange is normal.”

He smirks at me, his chocolate almond-shaped eyes sparkling with laughter. I smirk right back at him and wiggle my eyebrows. We enter the Biology room and seat ourselves down near each other. I’m so glad that I got at least Dante to be with me in the same class. I’d be so lonely if neither of them were here with me. I mean, they are, after all, my best friends. I wouldn’t do anything without them (okay, maybe I would, but we’re so getting off topic).

 

~*~*~

 

Later, after second Period, Dante and I met up with Shane. Her brown skin glistened slightly with moisture. Probably from the showers, I thought.

She ran up to us. Shane is, like, a lot taller than I am. Which equals longer legs, which equals a longer stride. Believe me, the girl is fast. Before school began, I urged her to try out for the track team.

“I’ll think about it,” Shane had said.

But, personally, I don’t think she has thought about it. Not, at least, since the day I mentioned it to her. So, I decide to come right out with it today. Maybe if I bug her enough, she’ll actually do it.

“Hey, guys,” she greets us. “Gym was so fun! We played volleyball. My team won.”

Oh, and did I mention, too, that Shane’s excellent at sports? Probably not. Besides being great at running, the girl can also win any game. In fact, if you challenge her, she accepts. And she’ll probably beat your butt while at it. She can be real competitive sometimes, but she’s, overall, a good sport.

“Of course,” Dante says. “Any team with you on it is bound to win.”

“Well…that’s true,” she admits.

“So,” I say, “missy, did you think about joining the track team?”

“Nope,” she answers. And almost happily, too.

“You know I’m just gonna keep on bugging you until you do.”

Shane grimaced. She knows how good of a nagger I am.

“Fine, I’ll go to the coach after school to find out when try-outs are.”

I smile, satisfied.

“Hey, you’re gonna be good at it,” Dante predicts. “We all know how good you are at running.”

I smirk at him. Once I told Dante that Shane could run faster than him. He didn’t believe it, and he challenged Shane to a race to see if she could prove it.

“Kit tells me you’re fast,” he had said. “Wanna race to prove it?”

She smiled slyly. She’s fast, and she knows it.

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s see if you can beat me.”

So, they took off down the road. Dante was beaten by dire strength and muscles. And he never, ever forgot it. I don’t think Shane has either because right now she’s smiling at him and chuckling to herself. I laugh too. It was really funny.

“That’s not funny!” Dante exclaims.

Our laughter grows even louder. We cover our mouths to keep the giggles down. Shane and I glance at each other; we try not to burst out. It’s so hard, though.

“It’s not. Stop laughing!”

 

Okay. Nothing really big happened between in third and fourth Periods. Just going over the boring basics of World History and U.S. Government. Yawn, BORING. So, just gonna skip right ahead to Lunch, here.

Our giggles had died down to nothing a few hours ago, so Shane and I weren’t laughing like complete idiots anymore. But that didn’t stop us from grinning like complete idiots. Heh…

Shane, Dante, and I sit down at our usual spot near the artists and the geeks. Nobody really bothers us, which is good. Some of Shane’s and Dante’s other friends join us.

Shane’s friends consist of Toinette, who Shane calls Toni for short (she’s really cool and has the greatest clothes), Jamila (she’s a writer like me, so we get along real well; we often talk about our ideas together, which is so fun), and Sahara (she’s a fast talker and chatters on and on about things, but she’s really nice). Basically, Shane’s friends are also my friends, and we get along real well. Dante’s friends are a different story.

We have Jorell (manga and anime addict; we talk about the latest movies and our favorite manga), Pepin (we call him “Pepsi;” he’s gorgeous, but real perverted-like and makes gross cracks. He’s nice, set aside al of that.), and finally Wayne (he’s a book addict and wears glasses; he’s good-looking, too, and he has a crush on me).

“What do you think of Evan Waters, Toni?” I ask.

She plays around with her dark brown hair and fingers the bracelet around her tan skin (she’s Hispanic and loves to go with the whole Mexican theme). She’s wearing a white peasant shirt with two short sleeves; one that’s lacy and for decoration and the other simply white straps that keep it on. Paired with the shirt, is a beautiful multi-colored skirt she claims to have gotten from Mexico. It takes my breath away. She’s wearing orange flip-flops and her nails are done with the perfect light pink nail polish. Toni’s hair wavy and curls at the ends. She’s so pretty; sometimes I get really jealous of her.

“Oh my God, he is so gorgeous! Isn’t he, Sahara?” Toni gasps.

“Yes. He is, like, completely and totally smoking!” Sahara says super-speed. Her eyes glaze over with a dreamy expression. Her pink lips smile and her creamy golden hand reaches for the yellow-green apple on her tray. She bites into it and looks at the ceiling.

“What’s the big deal, guys?” asks Jamila. “He’s just a boy.”

“He’s not just any boy,” I say. “He’s the most gorgeous one in school. Don’t tell me that you don’t think he’s handsome!”

She rolls her black eyes at me and smiles.

“Yeah, actually I do.”

“Thought so!”

“But he’s probably stuck up about it. Seriously, would you guys really go for him?”

Toni, Sahara, Shane, and I look at each other excitedly.

“Yeah!” we all say in unison. I giggle.

“Hey, girls,” says Pepsi, “if you’re done talking about Mr. Pretty Boy over there, why don’t you come over here and get some?”

Pepsi wiggles his eyebrows perverted like.

“Ew!” Shane shrieks.

Jamila slaps him on the back of the head.

“That’s gross,” says Toni. But she’s grinning, nonetheless. Pepsi smiles at her and makes kissy lips at her. She flushes pink, and pretends to hit him, but I can tell she really likes Pepsi. Pepsi shield his face, but rubs the place where Jamila hit him.

“Why can’t you whack me like that on the butt?” Pepsi cracks, turning to Jamila.

“Because you’re an immature idiot,” Jamila retorts.

“Hah! You got that right,” Shane says.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wayne goggling at me. I turn around and smile at him widely.

“Hey, Wayne,” I say. “How are you?”

Wayne flushes slightly, but smiles back.

“I’m good. Have you ever read Christopher Paolini’s Inheritance Trilogy?” he asks.

“I’ve read the first and second books, but I haven’t gotten my hands on the third one yet. You see the movie?”

“Ah…” Wayne places the book he was reading, Eldest, on the table. “…the movie was way different from the book. First, they didn’t even include the part about when you first become a dragon rider, you touch a dragon and get a silver palm.”

“I know. That’s one of the most important facts in the book because that’s how he can communicate with Saphira in the first place,” I say. “You’re very observant about these things.”

He flushed an even deeper red.

“T-thanks…”

Now I don’t like Wayne, and I’ve told him that before. But you can’t defeat crushes. He was still allowed to like me. Besides, I had my eye on a much worthier guy…

Toni speaks to me next.

“Kit, why were you asking about Evan Waters anyway?”

“She likes him,” says Shane.

“Shane!” I exclaim.

“Well, you do. In fact, you’re looking at him right now.”

I blushed and diverted my eyes away from him and stared down at the tops of my hands.

“Ooh, man, she’s got it bad,” Toni observes.

“What?” chirps Sahara.

“Kit here likes Evan Waters.”

“Nice pick, Kitty! But…are sure you’d be able to get him?” Sahara questions.

“Get who?” asks Dante, leaning in to us to listen.

“Um…uh…” I stutter.

I say no with my eyes, but apparently Toni doesn’t see.

“Kit likes Evan Waters,” says Toni, smiling widely at me.

And the next part here is really weird: Dante’s eyes lose their laughing luster and he seems almost…sad. Sad and drawn and disappointed. I didn’t know why, though.

“You like…him?” asks Dante. Another weird thing: Dante says the word “him” with suppressed bitterness.

“I know,” chimes in Jamila. “Don’t you think she would’ve chosen someone better?”

“It’s a crush, guys! Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” I ask.

“I’ve seen him,” Jamila says to me. “He’s a complete jerk. He flirts with all the girls. He’s cruel to the…um…not so good looking ones.”

She eyes me.

“Are you saying I’m not good looking?” I exclaim hysterically.

“No, just--”

“If you’re implying that I don’t have an equal chance to get him, then I’ll prove it to you all right now,” I hiss.

I rise out of my seat and saunter as confidentially as I can to the popular kids table. I can feel the others’ stare on me, watching me in awe. Suddenly, as I near their table, I start to feel real nervous. Did I make the right decision on doing this? I pushed the thought aside and sauntered up to the table.

Evan had girls of different types gathered around him. They were all smiling and…so was he. I almost went into a daze at that gorgeous grin on his face. It made my knees so weak that I wanted to melt into the floor. I pushed aside the girls, taking a deep breath.

All the girls, once they notice me, stop chattering. Evan turns to stare at me.

“What do you want?” a girl spits at me.

I ignore her and stare into Evan’s emerald eyes that sparkled in the light.

“I’m Dakota Hemingway and I like you,” I say without a single quiver in my voice.

Evan stares at me like I’m nuts and cracks into a smile.

“You like me, huh?” he laughs.

He bursts into laughter, and so do all the girls around him.

“Get out of here, you b***h!” says a girl.

“He would never go out with a little wart like you!”

Another pushes me down onto the floor. They stand over me, laughing. I get up and dust myself off. I saunter back confidentially to our table. The tears were threatening to spill, but I kept them back.

“Oh look!” called one of the girls from his table. “I think the wart is gonna cry!”

They all burst out cackling. I run into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall. I take off my glasses and cry my eyes out while sitting on the toilet.

“Kit?”

“Kitty-cat?”

“Come on out, it’s just us Kitty.”

I open the bathroom stall, grabbing my glasses. The girls rush over to hug me. I feel comforted by their action.

“Are you okay, Kitty-cat?” asks Shane.

My eyes still glittering with tears, I shake my head no.

“H-he…he rejected me!” I sob.

Toni hands me a paper towel and I gratefully take it, blowing my nose into it.

Sahara gives me a tight hug. Their kindness calms me down mildly, but I wasn’t going to give up that easily.

“I told you he’s a complete jerk,” says Jamila.

“That doesn’t stop me,” I say back. I gather myself and rinse my face with cold tap water.

“Kit…what are you gonna do?” asks Shane warningly. She looks at me hard, knowing something’s up.

I stare at my face in the mirror, loathing how I looked. I put my glasses right on the bridge of my nose.

“Just some fixer-uppers,” I say.