Dakota Lincoln
Don't cry. You can't cry. I wipe at my eyes in the rearview mirror and gasp for air. My face is splotchy and my eyes are red and puffy. I look up at my house and try to compose myself. Keep it together, Kota. As I climb out of the car, I slam the door and pull my shirt down over the bruises. It doesn't matter, just a freak accident. I walk up the walkway to the front door and pinch my cheeks to bring color to my face.
Opening the door and stepping into the foyer, I kick off my shoes. "Dakota, honey? Is that you?" "Yeah mom, it's me." I cringe as I hear my voice cracking, praying that she didn't hear it. Debby Lincoln steps into view, her high heels clacking. "Oh my, my, my." Debby shakes her head while clucking her tongue. "Messy hair and crumpled clothes are not allowed in this house, young lady!" I groan inwardly. "Yes mother, I know." "Then get out or get changed!" Debby walks back to her office, her heels clicking and clacking like the keys of a typewriter.
I sigh and tug at my hair as I walk across the newly polished marble floor to the spiral staircase. As I climb, I run my hand along the gold banister. I live in the grandest house of all of Cloverdale, yet I hate it. You can't wear sweatpants, or go barefoot, or even have your hair in a messy bun and no makeup. There is no such thing as a casual Friday in this house.
I quickly change into a pair of running shorts and a tank-top. Before pulling my shirt down all the way, I pause to brush my fingertips over the swollen bruises gingerly. I suck in a breath, driving my teeth into my bottom lip to keep from crying out, and blink hard to get rid of the tears welling behind my eyes. It's over now. You're okay. I pull my hair into a sloppy bun and try to ignore the cuts on my neck and cheek, heading for the staircase.
Reaching the last step, I peek around the corner to see if my mother is anywhere in sight. Noting that the coast is clear, I hurry to the front door, desperate to get out without her catching me. I knew what she would say if she saw me- Now Dakota, that is no way for a young woman such as yourself to go out in public dressed. Go up and change now.- Chuckling to myself, I get a thought- Debby says the same things so many times that I have her phrases memorized like the back of my hand, that's kind of screwed up, don't you think?
As soon as I hit the pavement, I'm off and running. The wind rips my hair back, threatening to yank it out of its bun, and the sun beats down on my face. I dig in and push myself further, faster. My lungs feel as though they will burst any minute and my legs throb but I push on. Running nowhere in particular, I allow my feet to lead me away from the white-paneled mansion and my selfish mother. Suddenly, my foot catches on a crack in the sidewalk and I flail forward. With so much forward momentum, I'm sent flying. The cement drives into my hands and knees, breaking the skin. I gasp. Rolling over, I lie on the sidewalk and allow the burning sensation to creep up my legs and through my arms, spreading throughout my whole body and overpowering all other senses.
"Are you okay?" I groan at the voice and open one eye, cocking my eyebrow at the man towering over me. "Yes." I snap. "Why wouldn't I be?" The man's eyes skim quickly over my body before returning back to my face. "Well, one- you're lying in my front lawn, and two- you're bleeding." Raising my head, I look at my knees. I wish I hadn't. They had already begun to bruise and were swollen up to the size of softballs. Blood ran down from where the skin was ripped off, staining the cement beside me. "Oh, that. I hadn't noticed." I couldn't help the sarcasm in my voice. If I'm lying on the ground bleeding, do you honestly think I'm okay?
The man sticks his hand down to me and I take it, hauling myself up and dusting my butt off. "Thanks." I mutter, though I sound far from grateful. "I'm Zachary. Zachary Davidson, but you can call me Zach." I nod. Honestly, I don't care who he is. "Yeah, okay." In the midst of fussing with my knees, I feel Zachary watching me. I sigh, annoyed, and glare at him. "Can I help you?" "What's your last name?" He asks, a smile playing on his lips. "Dakota Lincoln." I growl as I begin to walk away, well limp to be precise. Zach jumps in front of me, cutting me off. Instantly, I'm pissed. "Get the fuck out of my way right now. I am not in the mood to play your stupid games." His eyes widen with shock and I feel a pinch of guilt for snapping at him, but he deserved it. "Do you need a ride home?" I look up at him for a good long time, ranking him. He has shaggy brown hair and soft green eyes. A five o'clock shadow gives him a gruffer appearance than his bouncy personality portrays. I sigh, relenting, and nod. There was no way I was going to be able to hobble on two bad legs all the way back to my house; I don't even know where I am!
