Dakota

Chapter One

Chapter One

Noah's P.O.V

I wouldn't call myself troubled because many people have it far worst. But I wouldn't call myself alright either, because I was very far from that. I guess that's why I never expected to find her, to find my silver lining, especially when I thought that my life was just a disastrous chain of events waiting to happen.

But, it just so happens, that even the worst of people see the light. I being one of them.

 So this is our story.

The story of where I, Noah Collins, befriended a just as equally un-alright person named Dakota.

And that, that was alright. 

***

She was there again. 

Just like every other day since the first day I've been working at the library. (Involuntary that is, it was either community service or juvie.) Actually, maybe she has been going to the library for far longer. I wouldn't know, seeing as books and the library aren't exactly my cup of tea. But I'm fairly certain that she has been. And every single day I see her she always sits in the same corner, reading the same book ... upside down may I add.

I see the stares passer-byers in the library give her. Mind you, they wern't friendly ones ... more like curious deranged ones. I think it's most likely because of the way she has her chestnut coffee hair up most days; a messy bun with a pencil sticking right through the middle. 

Or maybe it's because of her dress choices. She always seemed to wear oversized woolly jumpers - It was Summer. Accompanied with denim ripped shorts, black tights and socks. Who, in their right mind, wears socks over tights?

Apparently, she does.

But then again, this is from the girl who not only wears socks over tights, but mismatched patterned ones too. Either blue or red, spotty or striped; they were always contrasting and bright. Like her eyes. 

I think that was the only thing remotely interesting, or shall I say, 'normal' about her. They were the colour of unvarnished oak dipped with dark mahogany flecks. I've never seen eyes like hers before. Sure, they're brown, and browns a common boring eye colour. But hers ... hers were different.

I never really observed a person as much as I observed her. It's weird because she's strange. Her appearance just says it all. I would say her personality too, but then that would mean that I actually talked to her. 

No. Never in my life would I resort to that. 

I guess I'm coming off a bit prejudice, but society is like that, isn't it?

"Noah, you're free to go in five minutes, but don't forget to lock up. I'm going to be leaving now 'cause I have a couple of errands to attend to." Ella said as she waved a good bye with her small frail arms. She was one of the library librarian's, actually, come to think of it - she was the only one. 

I would account myself too as a librarian, seeing as I've been working here for over a month (two more till I've paid off my community service) but that would be degrading to myself. Besides, librarians were supposed to be weak old ladies, like Ella. She very much resembled a stereotypical librarian; glasses, 60s fashion and weak voice. In fact, she even had that lingering odour of cheap drugstore perfume, you know, the strong rose smelling kind that could intoxicate anyone in a 5 metre radius. All elderly librarians had that odour.

You learn to get used to the smell though - well at least I did. I couldn't say the same for others.

"Sure thing Ella." I replied as I stacked up the last of the books onto the Historical Fiction section. 

As she walked off, I began to guide the empty book rack to the back room, I would've gotten it to the back room if it had not been for the piles of books sprawled onto the carpeted floor, evidently, blocking my way. 

"What the?" I scratched my head in confusion. If my memory proved me wrong, I recollected that this section of the library - most definitely - did not have books everywhere on the floor a couple of moments ago. I did just clean it half a hour ago. 

And that's when I saw it. 

The left penguin sock, contrasting with the right Spongebob sock. 

"Do you mind?" I grunted, annoyed at the fact that this girl created this mess in the time span of what seemed to be only ten minutes. My Nike trainers tapped impatiently on the floor as I waited for the girl's reply. 

After a couple moments later. She finally acknowledged my existence, she placed her book down as her copper brown eyes glanced at me quickly, before returning back to her book. 

"Not at all." 

By now we were the only ones left in the library so all was almost quiet and calm. Almost. The vivid sounds of paper being turned could be heard, along with the indie rock music blaring out of her earphones: The Killers.

I sighed as I brought my hand up and ran it through my brown locks. This girl, why is she so infuriatingly difficult? 

"Look ... The library is closing in a couple of minutes and either you leave now or help me with the mess that you created."

She sighed in response, lifting herself from the cushioned seat and placing the book back onto the shelf. Her battered black converse dodged the certain books on the floor, she was careful as to not step on one. And when she got out of the mess of books on the floor ... she left. 

She left. 

Without a good bye, an uttered response, and most importantly, without helping me clean up the mess which she - not I - caused.

I guess my assumptions of this girl was wrong. 

She isn't strange ... She's strange, weird and a bloody annoyance, that's what. 

And this is why I never wanted to speak to her.