wasteland | outer banks (obx)

PART III | DON'T GIVE UP

TRIGGER WARNING / mentions of drug abuse, familial incarceration, implied parental abuse

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"this you?" jj questioned as he peered out the window, the van approaching dakota's household. the pogues and dakota were piled into the humid interior of the vehicle, john b cranking the stereo knob to diminish the volume of the morning news broadcast, which kiara had insisted they play on their drive.

"this would be me," dakota nodded, her head still buzzing, but the dizzying effects of the alcohol soothingly dwindling. if anything, she was exhausted – and the inflatable mattress on her own bedroom floor was bellowing out to her.

"here, hold out your hand," kiara instructed, and dakota obliged, kiara's calloused fingertips from surfing enveloping around her palm. a permanent marker from the floorboards of the van between her teeth, kiara uncapped it, the putrid aroma of the ink chemicals invading dakota's sense of smell, and kiara scribbled a series of numbers onto her hand. "there. give me a call once you get some rest."

dakota nodded, gazing at kiara's penmanship, and finally, when she recognized how long she was idle, she hunched over toward the door, which pope opened for her, and saluted the pogues with two fingers. the soles of her high tops steady on the pavement, she was their singular spectator as they sped off into the morning, the chickadees and goldfinches a choir against the dynamic skyline. dakota could still smell the sea.

as she waltzed through the overgrown front lawn and through the threshold of the entryway, she unearthed rowan and august bickering over who would be awarded the toy from the bottom of the cereal box. her mother was in the kitchen, sorting the minimal dishes they had into cupboards.

upon hearing the front door creek to a close, rowan and august peered up, their eyebrows raised, gaping, and penny shifted on her feet to survey around the archway leading into the kitchen.

there was a beat of pause before penny muttered, "i wasn't serious about you comin' home before dawn, you know. even if i was—looks like it's a little past that anyway."

dakota stared at the oak flooring as she shuffled in towards her mother, past her brothers, who had lost interest and returned to quarreling.

"don't you want to hear about my night?" dakota questioned facetiously, attempting to smooth over the conversation.

"sure," penny nodded, her lean shoulders hunched as she set a bowl with floral designs painted onto its ceramic surface on the cracked countertop, swiveling to face dakota, folding her arms across her chest. "i'd love to know where the hell you've been."

"i went out to eat at a place called the wreck in town. met a girl, and we wound up at a party," dakota shrugged, chewing the inner corner of her plump lip.

"were you safe?" penny inquired, reclining against the countertop and cabinets.

dakota had to swiftly determine what penny meant by "safe". if it meant underage drinking and catapulting herself off of a pier with a girl she had only been acquainted with, then she was absolutely, unequivocally safe.

dakota should've sensed something was peculiar about her mother giving her the third-degree, but unfortunately, she was too drowsy to acknowledge it.

"i was," dakota deceived, but penny was a skillful fabricator herself, and she recognized when her children were fibbing to benefit themselves.

"kody—" penny started, heaving out an exasperated breath.

"it won't happen again," dakota interrupted, shaking her head, and flattening her palms across her face. the residual stench of the ink from the marker on her hand crawled into her nostrils like insects.