Dakota decided that today would be a day of rebellion. She had always been so polite, polite, and kind that she decided it was time for a change. She planned to curse, play loud music, and spit on people's heads (Dakota lives on the second floor).
It's worth mentioning, however, that Dakota's real name isn't Dakota. Her real name is Scholastica. She considers this a brazen prank on her mother's part, whose name is Telimena, and her mother's mother's name was Wilhelmina. She was greatly offended by the fact that her mother decided to make up for the time when she was called "Ants in Your Pants" by calling Dakota Scholastica. At school, they called her "Schola" or "Tyka," and "Tyka" didn't suit her at all, as she was a few pounds overweight.
Dakota decided the name Dakota suited her perfectly. It was original and mysterious. Unfortunately, in the school hallways, they kept calling her "Tyczko," but she assiduously changed their habits by saying, "Dakota. Call me Dakota." The results were obvious: several people started calling her Dakota. "Hi, Tyka. Um... Dakota." Unfortunately, her mother didn't approve of this arbitrary name change. She tried to convince Dakota that Scholastica was a really interesting and pretty name. "Sure," Dakota huffed. "Very interesting—they ask me what era I'm from." Telimena had never called Dakota "Dakoto" before; she said "Scholo," instead, and Dakota's blood was boiling and she was ready for a fight.
But let's get back to Dakota's rebellion. She was also irritated by the fact that every other page of her favorite magazine (and not just this one, by the way) featured a model. The model was scantily clad, usually in a bikini or something tight, and her belly resembled a perfectly formed board. Legs without a trace of cellulite, slim arms, a nice bust. Dakota felt heavy after lunch, which she'd eaten with two apples and knew that in about an hour she'd be working out, running, jumping rope, which wouldn't guarantee she'd lose any weight, because she'd really stuffed herself with those cabbage rolls. Meanwhile, the model on page nineteen could eat five thousand Snickers bars for lunch, twenty hamburgers for a main course, and five shakes for dessert, and the scale would still read fifty kilograms, or maybe even forty-nine, because usually slim women have amazing metabolisms and love to exercise. They go for a run right after waking up, horseback riding after breakfast, playing tennis after a second breakfast, swimming after lunch, and skipping afternoon snacks and dinner. Dakota won't be eating afternoon snacks or dinner today either; she has the ambitious goal of a serious workout.
And aren't these reasons why one might feel the urge to rebel?
"Scholastica," Telimena began, "wash the dishes after dinner.
" "No," Dakota replied defiantly, biting into an apple.
"Honey,You shouldn't eat that apple because you're trying to lose weight. Better drink some water.
"Oh my," thought Dakota. "Is this woman deaf?" "
I won't wash the dishes after dinner. Let Nick do it. Actually, it's his turn today," Dakota apologized. She had forgotten that the basis of a proper rebellion is a lack of explanation.
"Scholo, you're really exaggerating with your love of English. Mikołaj, not Nyk." Telimena grimaced. "And of course you'll wash the dishes.
" "Nick! It's Nick, not Nyk," Dakota said angrily. "I don't like the names you gave me and my brother. Why don't you call me 'Dakoto'? Always that dry 'Scholo'! And Mikołaj, that terrible, disgusting name that reminds me of that idiot in the red suit and the long beard!
" "Of course, you're right. But now please—wash the dishes."
Dakota thought that defying the woman who had breastfed her wasn't a good idea. She washed off the source of the argument and stomped to her room. She put on her favorite CD by her favorite band and cranked up the volume.
"DAKOTA, DAMN IT!
" "Did something happen, Nick?"
She was lucky she'd even convinced her brother to change his name.
"Turn off that damned noise, or I'm not responsible for myself!
" "Have you ever been responsible for yourself, you damned mama's boy?!
Dakota really had a fit.
"Dakota, are you having a rebellious day?"
He saw right through her.
"Mmm... no, I'm just expressing my emotions that I've been hiding for sixteen years," she replied smugly, and started listening to the music even louder.
"Damn," she thought, "I love rebelling!"
"Okay, but could you please do it more quietly?
" "How can you release your emotions quietly?"
"Ugh," Nick sighed, "you're lucky I'm going to Adrian's, otherwise...
" "Otherwise what?
" "I would have done you in," he sneered.
"Get lost, will you? You're bothering me...
" "Release your emotions," her brother finished for her, and Dakota heard the door slam.
It was also patently unfair that Nick's parents were paying more attention to him. It was a truly visible act. Didn't they understand that by letting him go to a hip-hop concert and not letting Dakota go to a rock concert, they were hurting her? Nick was only two years older! Oh no. He needed to rebel against that. She gave up on annoying her parents, knowing it would only end with detention: the targets were passersby.
She shook her head, and her hair instantly fell across her cheeks and forehead, making Dakota unrecognizable to the supposed victim of the attack. She spat. Unfortunately, it only hit a dog, and Dakota couldn't forgive herself for that: she paid her dues to Greenpeace every month. She had a better idea. She went into Nick's room and grabbed a pack of cinnamon gum from him (she figured it would smell better).
It was hilarious. She hit her neighbor's hat, and the gum fell down a brunette's pants. A fluke. At that same moment, the brunette raised his head, looked at Dakota, and smiled. Dakota, resembling a ripe tomato, smiled back and felt foolish.
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