There was a girl, with bright red hair and a smile which lit up a room. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips a desirable pink, with eyes a rare green shade. This girl was well known throughout her school, and was greeted whenever she walked into a room, answering with a cheerful “Hello! How are you?” and answered with a mirrored appreciation for conversation. This girl, however, is not the focus. Her tale is for another day. For now, the focus is on the girl a few classrooms down, the girl which people were trying not to look at as she struggled for breath.
It was hard to assume her age, considering how her frail frame hunched over the desk to hide all but her thin chestnut hair and a single, paper white hand, which draped over her head limply as the girl remained oblivious to the teacher who was marking the role.
“Dakota?” The laughter in the class died down, and when no answer came, all students turned to the back corner.
To the girl.
“Dakota Campbell?” The frail girl sat up and tried to regain composure, quickly combing her hair back out of her face to reveal hazel eyes, and an equally pale face with chapped lips.
“Here.” Her response was croaky, like she’d lost her voice the day before.
Some people in the class smiled when Dakota’s gaze drifted to them as she looked over the class, while other’s merely turned forward and tried to ignore her. Everyone knew the girl was sick- gravely so, but nobody knew what with, or how long she’d last, despite the estimations. Dakota was just as clueless as her peers, having gone to more than fifteen doctors and seeing three surgeons to try and discover why her health had slowly deteriorated over the years.
In a nasty turn of events, Dakota had found she'd lost eight kilo's in less than a week, which the doctors found astonishing, and her most recent medical trip had given her the news that she wouldn’t last to see her twenty second birthday. Still, there was no answer to why she’d gotten so sick, or even how. She just was.
“May I go to the infirmary, Miss?” The elderly woman with grey hair looked up from her sheet of paper, and nodded briskly; trying not to look at sickly girl for too long in fear she’d show her pity.
“Take your bag.” Dakota hoisted her bag over her shoulder, rising to her feet and feebly trying not to show how much effort each step took with the added weight on her back.
Dakota refused to abandon the last piece of normality in her life- her school bag. She wanted to prove she was still well enough to carry her own weight, which she very well knew deep down, wasn’t going to last much longer.
The reason for her sudden departure had to do with the sickening hacks that tore from her mouth the moment she felt those in her class couldn’t hear her. The wet convulsions shook Dakota’s body as she covered to her mouth in an attempt to stop the coughs.
Dakota was embarrassed by her state, of course, but what could she do? It was as obvious to everyone around her as it was to herself that she couldn’t help her health. The sickness was eating away at her, and as time went on, she found she couldn’t last more than half the day before having to go home. Dakota had a feeling her parent’s would pull her out of school soon, so they could have her under twenty four hour supervision, which she constantly argued with them about.
She wasn’t some criminal; she didn’t need to be watched. Dakota was merely sick- sicker than others, so it happened- and she just wanted to be sick in peace.
Pulling out her mobile once her fit ceased, she hit the quick dial for her mother. After three rings, Dakota heard the faint background noise of the office her mother worked in as she answered.
