Dakota

Chapter 1 of TBD

Groaning, the young boy rolled onto his back and blinked sleepily, squinting into the bright sunlight. He'd overslept. Sighing, he sat up on the edge of his bench, absentmindedly tossing his book bag over his shoulder. Wait. That wasn't right. The bag was much too light. The boy slung the bag back in front of him, to see his day had been ruined. The bag had been unzipped, and the contents emptied. He knew he should react strongly to this - every possession he owned other than the clothes he was wearing and the bag itself were lost. However this had happened enough times, and, honestly, he was tired enough that he just couldn't muster the energy to care. 

Slowly, the boy stood up and started walking across the park to the bus stop. Along the way he saw various homework assignments of his scattered here and there. He calmly walked past them, not giving them a second glance. Eventually he reached the bus stop, and checked his watch -- the only thing in his possession now not made of cloth. 10:27. A huff of air escaped him as he chuckled. At this rate he'd be at least two hours late to school, but who cares? No matter how much school he missed, he knew he'd always be at the top of his class -- and his teachers hated him for it. 

All his life, the boy had been told he needed to work harder -- to pay closer attention -- to care. Yet time and time again, he skipped classes, zoned out during lessons, and left his homework to the very last minute (sometimes literally), and somehow remained at the top of his class. Once, back when he was at the orphanage, one of his teachers decided that participation and attendance would make up 40% of their grade. That year, Seth, the overachiever of their grade passed him by just barely. It wasn't that the boy didn't want to learn -- he thirsted for knowledge. He spent every spare minute reading, studying, researching, and contemplating the more complex factors in life. He simply didn't agree with most of his teachers or their views on knowledge, and therefore wouldn't cooperate with the structure they created. They never understood that.

Eventually, Madame Relgate, the owner of the orphanage, started threatening him if he didn't improve his behavior in class. She had received many complaints from his teachers. Very strong complaints, if possibly a bit confused in exactly what they viewed as the problem. At this point, he was only eleven years old, but understood that no child should be threatened with losing meals, working until the crack of dawn, and sitting in a cold dark room for hours alone, not knowing when he'd be let out. 

The day she made good on one of her threats, refusing him his dinner and confining him to the closet until all the other children had gone to sleep, he decided it was time to leave. He left in the middle of the night, and never returned. He transferred schools, and started going by a new name - one he felt suited him much more. When the orphanage took him in when he was a baby, found in a dumpster behind an apartment complex, they took him in and named him Isaiah. He never liked this name. He requested a change from as early as he could speak and understand what a name was -- which was extremely early compared to most kids. He was speaking full sentences by ten months. Despite his continued requests for a name change, they refused. 

Now, he had left that old life. He had known they'd give up looking for him soon enough, and he had been right. The orphanage hated him, as did all his old teachers, and he never made too many friends. He was given the chance to start a new life, and he took it.  He was smart enough to live on the streets, and he could find food and money when he needed it. Now, Dakota Dawson was a functioning fifteen year old, living on the streets.

"Hey, you gettin' in?" Dakota looked up at the bus driver, snapping back into the present, a smirk still plastered over his face. Standing up, he boarded the bus, and began heading to the back. "Hey, kid." Stopping, Dakota looked back at the bus driver and raised his eyebrows. "You got fare this time?" Face dropping a bit, Dakota slung his bag forward, opening it to show the driver the empty contents. After looking at him for a minute, the driver nodded at him. "Well... make yourself comfortable. You know it's a long ride."

Author's Note

VERY VERY ROUGH DRAFT. Currently just putting ideas down. Open to any responses/suggestions. This is my first piece of work and I know it's nowhere near perfect, so lay on the constructive criticism!

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You did very well. You create strong story line and very interesting character. You gave the character some history to make him come alive to the reader. I liked his journey to possible good place. I enjoyed the complete chapter. You made every scene come alive for the reader. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[siloqui]

Thank you so much! :)

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome. I like the story line a lot.