They Can't Know I'm a Girl (OLD VERSION, not finished)

Preparation

[An older version of this story can be found on my Quizilla account. I didn't directly copy it, but I did write every single word of it. Happy reading!]

My name is Dakota Stanley. I live in one of the worst parts of town. Can't say I have a lot of money.. cause.. well, I don't. I live life to its extent. Nothing stops me from fighting for what I want and believe in. What I shouldn't say is that I'm far too laid back. I have had unfortunate events in my life and the sun may not shine so brightly for me as of now, but what I can say is that I take my education seriously. Very seriously. And the shitty school that I attend doesn't give a crap about our grades, knowing we won't get far with empty wallets, anyways.

Who needs an overflowing wallet, anyways? Or a money tree? Do those even exist? Ha. Some of the snobs around here really believe I've never seen a twenty dollar bill in my life. How wrong those ignoramuses are. Like anyone needs them, anyways. Here, you won't see a snob like that for miles.

My mother always wanted me to do well. At home, it's just her, my older brother and I. My brother dropped out of school a long time ago and is working at the local mechanic's. And my mom, well, she works at a diner. Can't say I'm not proud of her. She works very hard and she's very dear to me. We're not one of those families that enjoy arguing with each other.

At the moment, I was in my room, packing my clothes into a large, old suitcase. It was currently a giant mess, with my clothes all over my small bed and floor. The carpet was dark and stained in various places. You could easily tell how old it was. A million years old. 

I had a desk, a small dresser, a closet and bed. Two windows. It wasn't anything exciting, but I got by. Believe it or not- it was actually pretty comfortable. I didn't feel claustrophobic at all. I grew up in here.

"Here's your school stuff," Regina said, handing me my backpack that I took to school. She took the honor of helping me pack. She filled my backpack with the two binders I carried, as well as all of my pens and pencils, along with my ruler, calculator, etc. I smiled at her, setting down the bag by my bed. It still had room in it- so I might as well add some stuff in there, later.

Regina has been my friend since she moved into this neighborhood, about three years ago. She has really dark and rick hair, with the color right in between orange and brown, a gorgeous auburn with natural highlights. It went past her shoulders in slight waves. She also had side bangs that hid her pretty, blue eyes and gave her that cute, mysterious look. She was really pretty, in my opinion. We shared the same style- skinny jeans, baggy hoodies, the like. We're total tomboys and we're not afraid to flaunt it.

"Thanks," I said with a small smile. Here's another thing. While I move, she stays. That was the hardest part about me moving to this school in the first place. Leaving my best friend of all time behind.

I walked back over to my bed, where she was sitting, and picked up another stack of men's shirts, tucking it away into the luggage.

"You know," Regina started, looking down into my luggage, which was filled with clothes a girl would never wear. "You're lucky your mom kept all of Max's clothes all this time," she said, admiring the crap load of clothes I was able to snag from Max. They were too small for him, anyways. Dear Maxwell had also taken the liberty of going to the thrift store with me and getting me some boy clothes in my style that I would be comfortable wearing. We were in luck, searching on-line in the library one day when we found a really cheap (used, of course) compression shirt.