Pretty Little Liars

Chapter 24: Dakota's Dirty Little Secret

That same morning, Dakota knocks twice on the bathroom door before opening it to find her mother standing in front of the mirror above the sink, her hair dripping from her shower as she carefully applies a layer of mascara to her swoopy lashes.

"Hey, mom." Dakota leaves the door open as she crosses the bathroom to sit on the vanity.

As much as Dakota loved her girl chat with Neah the other night, she kind of wants to get her mom's take on this whole Tyler thing. Neah is seemingly convinced that Tyler has a thing for her but that can't be true. Typical Rosewood boys do not fall for kooky girls like Dakota. It isn't written in the stars. But, getting advice from a former Typical Rosewood girl might be a good place to start.

"Hi, sweetie," she says back, concentrating on her makeup. "Aren't you going to be late for school?"

"I'll be fine." She plays with the studded bracelet on her bony wrist. "I wanted to talk to you about the plans I have after school."

The real reason she wants to scope out her mother's opinion is that Tyler belongs to the Firestone family. Their secret is one that has been shamefully stuffed into the back of some drawer, revisited only when their bank account needs it. This conversation alone is enough to probably set Ms. Winthrop off but Dakota would feel terrible going behind her back and doing something that her mother doesn't agree with.

Ms. Winthrop glances up at her daughter in speculation. "Oh?"

"It's Tyler Firestone," Dakota reveals. "He needs help with chem and I told him that I could help."

Dakota's mother drops the stencil into the sink and scrambles to pick it up, looking at her daughter through the mirror. "Why would you do that, Dakota?"

"I just told you."

"But why would you actually do that?" She sounds impatient, like she's scolding a child for drawing on the walls-- something every child should know they shouldn't do. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No, mom." She sighs heavily. "Look, he doesn't have any idea what happened. If he does, he wouldn't be asking me to help him study."

"I need to get ready for work." Ms. Winthrop drops her mascara tube into her makeup caddy and stuffs it under the sink.

Dakota bites down on the inside of her cheek. She knows that her mom is upset, that isn't a secret. What is, though, is how they've managed to stay afloat in a single-parent household for so long. Her mother has managed to attend fundraising events and auctions, showing up looking just as dazzling as the next woman. But little does anyone know how.

It was three Christmases ago, the day after Christmas. Dakota was tucked into the passenger seat of her mother's big Suburban that she's had since before Dakota was born. The Pennsylvania snow was slowly falling from the sky, almost forgetting to land. The streets were mostly clear, two funnels of light shining ahead into the coming blizzard. Dakota and her mother were on their way back from Dakota's grandma's house, which was two hours outside of Rosewood. Granny Winthrop was the type of lady to clutter her house with creepy knick-knacks of children kissing and pressing their cheeks together. She had a collection of Gone with the Wind plates and tiny statues of unicorns covering her bookshelves. Every year she makes Dakota a quilt that is too itchy to use for herself so she lets her nameless cat sleep on it when necessary.

"We can't listen to Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer when we just left your grandma's house." Ms. Winthrop changed the station on the radio, the sound of the windshield wipers following after. "Shit, we're almost out of gas. This thing is supposed to hold a lot but it feels like I'm refilling every five damn minutes."

"Probably because it's older than Grandma," Dakota mumbled, shifting in her seat. Her puffy pink jacket was zipped fully to her chin since the car's A.C never worked.

"That's what I want for Christmas," Ms. Winthrop proclaimed. "Gas. To last me until next Christmas. That would be nice."

"Christmas is over, and that would be impossible," Dakota joked, grinning. She pointed toward the right of the middle-of-nowhere street they were traveling down. "There's a gas station up ahead."

Ms. Winthrop steered the car into the tiny parking lot of the gas station, hopping out with a grunt and leaving her car door open a crack. Remaining in the car, Dakota looked out her window where the snowflakes stuck to the glass like they were already frozen in place. She noticed a familiar blue jeep parked outside of the tiny building, an even more familiar Rosewood High sticker slapped to the bumper. Dakota ducked down when she saw movement on the side of the building, her collar to her coat itching up around her jawline, her cheeks puffy and her lip pouted out in front of her.

"Shut up!" Tyler Firestone appeared, as handsome as ever, screaming at a woman that was around Dakota's mom's age. "Just shut the fuck up!"

Nothing happened for a moment. Whoever Tyler was talking to began speaking, her tone too low for Dakota to pick up on. But in the blink of an eye, Tyler shoved this woman onto a side street, her shocked expression bathed in the yellow glow of an oncoming red truck that swarmed into view. An ear piercing scream and a loud thump followed as the woman's body tumbled over the hood and barreled to the ground. It wasn't like how it happens in the movies. There was no background music or tense buildup. It was just a simple act that ended horribly, horribly, wrong.

Dakota gasped from inside the car, her eyes just as big as the woman's. She sat up more in her seat, covering her mouth with her gloved hands. She went to turn and call for her mother but Ms. Winthrop was already watching from the gas pump, her chapped lips parted.

Now, Dakota shakes the thought from her mind like an annoying bug that won't go away. One that refuses to die.