Helping Hands and Helping Sammiches

There was a loud thump and the wall shook as if hit by a rubber mallet. A shrill wine followed. Lana Lamar rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip as she turned towards the ascending stairway.

"Dakota, how many times do you have to be reminded to duck when going down the stairs?" Her question was directed to a very tall Inkling girl in overalls rubbing her forehead, with her light brown tentacles partially wrapped around her in a defensive gesture.

"Sorry Mom," she mumbled.

Lana crossed her own bronze tentacles one over the other in front of her chest. "I can't tell if you keep thumping your head because it's always in the clouds or if it's the other way around."

Now at the bottom of the stairs, Dakota hung her head, grasping her tentacle clubs in her hands, not meeting her eyes.

Lana returned to washing the dishes. "Are you going out again today?'

"Y-yeah." Dakota shuffled into the kitchen, almost tiptoeing.

"Back to the workshop?"

Dakota's shuffling ceased. She stood frozen in place, her face flushed a light blue hue with mild shame. Lana sighed.

"Dakota, I don't like you hanging around nothing but Octarians all the time. It's not like I'm opposed to you going altogether but you should spend more time with other Inklings. You're going to become a shut-in at this rate."

"It's not that I think Octarians are better," Dakota replied meekly. "It's just… other Inklings are a pain to hang around. I'm only a C-Rank in Turf War, boys are always coming up to talk to me and sometimes girls give me nasty looks."

"Dakota, that happens to every girl your age."

"Not as much as me."

"Because you're tall, beautiful, and attractive, so of course boys will want to talk to you, and because of that, a lot of other girls will get jealous. You'd be very popular if you just went out more and acted more friendly."

Dakota grabbed a few pieces of sub bread and started to lay them out on the counter. "I'm gonna make a couple of sammiches before I go."

Lana scowled. "Fine, but this discussion is not over Dakota Miriam Lamar. We'll involve your father next time if we have to."

Dakota didn't respond; instead, she focused on grabbing the various ingredients for her own brand of sandwiches, grabbing them with her long tentacles and using her hands to put it all together. In a matter of moments, she had two fully assembled sub sandwiches. She wrapped them in plastic and then placed them into a large shopping bag.

"Don't be home late."

"I won't."

Dakota slipped on her brown boots and grabbed a pair of simple work gloves, stashing them in the front pocket of her overalls, and then headed out.

Despite being mid-morning, most of the neighbourhood was fairly quiet. By now, most Inklings her age were out at Inkopolis Plaza or Inkopolis Square gathering for turf wars. Adults would be doing chores or errands, too busy to pay much attention to her. That was how Dakota liked it: nobody around to stare at her or try to talk to her. She hoped it would be like this the whole way to the workshop. Her hopes were dashed when she saw the small crowd at the next bus stop.

'Why are there so many here? This bus goes away from the city centre.'

Dakota tried to be invisible, changing her colour to blend into the sun-bleached concrete of the sidewalk and retaining wall. Unfortunately, when one was literally head and shoulders above the rest as she was, remaining invisible was a nearly impossible task.

"Oh, hey, Kota!" One of the girls looked up from her phone and waved at her. Dakota winced and awkwardly waved back. Now, everyone else had noticed her and stared up at her. She knew a few of them already and was less concerned about them then the strangers in the group who approached her much more boldly than she would have liked.

"Hey, you're an awful lotta' fresh there girl. Wanna hang out with us and see some rippin' Turf war matches? I'm an A-rank myself."

"Yeah, A-." Another boy scoffed. "Don't listen to this guy, I'm way better than him. A+ right here."

Dakota tried to tune them all out as they argued. Coming up only to her chest she tried to pretend they were all little kids. That helped her feel a bit more comfortable. She glimpsed a few of the girls further away glaring in her direction. Their eyes were so intense it made her shiver. Her mother called it jealousy, to Dakota, it seemed more like they were demanding the gods end her existence.

The first bus forced her to get on with all of them. One of the girls she knew occupied the spot next to her, much to the consternation of some of the boys, but Dakota was relieved. What was the girl's name again? Long pink mantle, dark red eyes, oh, Morica.

"Th-thanks Morica."

"No prob 'Kota," she chirped. "Must be tough being so good looking. You don't even put any effort into it and you still rake in the boys like a fishing trawler."

Dakota's face flushed sapphire and tried to hide it behind her tentacles. "I'm, not that pretty."

"Sure you are, you're just embarrassed to admit it," She giggled. "Well, you'd look really fresh if you weren't wearing overalls all the time. Not really an Inkling thing to wear unless you have to garden or something." Morica shrugged. "So, where you heading off to?"

"Me?" Dakota hid even further behind her large tentacles, partially wrapping them around her head like a scarf. "I'm uh, going to visit some friends. I'm helping them with some stuff."

Morica nodded sympathetically. "Helping them out with chores huh? That's a bummer for them, but real nice of you 'Kota."

The bus slowed to a stop but Dakota made no move to rise. "I'm staying on," she whispered.

"Okay." Morica stood as the bus hissed to a stop. "I'll see you later, 'kay?" She waved and Dakota found herself waving back as Morica followed the others off the bus. Some of the boys were still arguing.

As she watched Morica walk away from the bus stop, chatting happily with the others and teasing them, Dakota thought that maybe, Morica might be worth getting to know better. She seemed friendly and having an Inkling friend would help get her mother to stop worrying. Maybe.

As Dakota walked and bussed to her destination, quaint suburbia gradually transformed into grungy industrial parks and warehouses. Dakota knew that most of her kind would find the utilitarian buildings ugly and gross, especially the old and rusty ones.

Dakota actually preferred this area in many ways. She thought the buildings and people here were more honest while people in her neighbourhood were more concerned about keeping up appearances. Even though it made for a nice looking place to live, there was a sense of fraudulence about it.

Her last bus slowed as it entered a particularly shoddy looking area. The simple but sturdy industrial buildings were no more, replaced with makeshift huts and shacks. This was one of Inkopolis' slums.

When Dakota pulled the cable for her stop, the bus driver, a jellyfish, actually turned around to look at her. "You sure you want to get off here kid?"

Dakota was already standing up. "Yeah, I'm sure." He probably thought it odd enough to see an Inkling on his route, but this wasn't exactly the safest neighbourhood for a girl her age. The bus slowed and the door opened.

As Dakota disembarked, a few of the locals, all Octolings, looked up from what they were doing and looked at her. She smiled and waved but otherwise didn't interact with them. They seemed busy. The bus stayed put with its door open until she started walking up the street.

Dakota walked past more shacks situated on poorly groomed lawns with trash and scrap strewed about. Though they looked shabby, they were actually quite well made. Octolings were quite good at making things with what society at large threw away. Dakota's destination loomed ahead.

The workshop, like most buildings in the area, was a building, made by combining other smaller structures and then filling in any gaps. The main workshop area was mostly outside or under awnings where Octolings worked on anything from cars to toasters. The tools were kept in a tool shop made of two shipping containers with one of their walls removed and replaced with a few steel support beams to make a single large space.

Behind the workshop was where most of the Octolings who worked there lived. It was a structure made up of other shipping containers, old RVs and camper trailers; and makeshift greenhouses out back. It had taken them five years of work to make the soil suitable for growing things.

Dakota entered the small plot but nobody looked up from their work to notice her. She admired how focused they were and how it seems she wasn't a huge deal. It was actually nice to not have a lot of fanfare when she arrived someplace. Nobody seemed to notice her at all until she entered the small office hut and the little bell rang.

The office was small and Dakota was stuck in a permanent duck to avoid banging her head on the ceiling. It was constructed from a variety of recycled materials and had a piece of plexiglass in the roof that provided the only source of illumination the office had. A sign read "CASH ONLY. NO CHECKS OR CARDS." Sat behind a desk made of old wooden crates was an Octoling with four thick magenta tentacles. She looked up at Dakota and gave her a small smile.

"Hey, Dakota. Here to help out?"

"Yeah, thanks for letting me help, Tamli. I'm learning a lot from you guys."

Tamli shrugged. "I'm not going to turn away someone who works for free, especially one as competent as you." She eyed the plastic bag Dakota was carrying. "What's that?"

"It's for Tuuri. I know it's not much but I thought-." Tamli cut her off with a raised hand.

"It's alright Dakota. We all appreciate it, really. Go on up; just remember to knock."

Dakota nodded, fully aware of the potential consequences of ignoring that bit of advice, and slipped slowly out of the hut, wincing as her head grazed the top of the doorframe.

The front door to the home was sandwiched between an old RV and food truck. The latter served as the kitchen while the former was the dining room. The corridor between them was a bit narrow because of the load-bearing struts between the two old vehicles that held up the floors above it.

Sometimes the narrow passage made it difficult for more than one person to go through at once, especially for Dakota with her much larger size. When she asked why they made it so narrow, they replied that it was more defensible that way. Dakota wasn't sure what that really meant but it was probably a holdover from their lives back in Octo Valley.

At the end of the corridor, a large shipping container had been put on its end to make a stairwell leading to the second and third floors. The second floor was the sleeping quarters. Nobody had a bedroom here, it was all very intimate and privacy wasn't a luxury they could afford. The third floor, where she was headed, was the sanctuary. It had been made for the purpose of isolation, in the case one of them got sick. These days, however, the third floor had another purpose.

Clutching the bag tightly, Dakota squeezed herself into the narrowest corridor in the house, grunting as her hips and shoulders rubbed against the walls. If not for the plastic bag, she would have used her squidform to get through this part.

'The joys of being descended from giant squids.'

At the end of the corridor was another small door. This was the most recent addition to the home, a teardrop-shaped camper trailer that had been gutted, cleaned, remodelled, and then mounted to the third floor.

Taking a deep breath, Dakota knocked and waited for a response. "Tuuri? It's Dakota," she said quietly.

"Come in. It's okay; she's up." Dakota slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

The room was bright, with the camper's original porthole windows providing a lot of natural light. The floor was the original wooden floor, but it had been cleaned to a spotless shine. A small rug had been added in the middle.

The tail end of the teardrop featured the original bed, with small compartments underneath for storage. At the leading edge of the teardrop, surrounded by a small array of toys and dodads was the room's senior occupant, an Octoling with tentacles of such a dark purple that they were almost black; although, they were turning white and shrivelled at the tips.

"Hello Dakota," she said without turning around. Her eyes were transfixed on a fish tank nestled against the wall.

"Hello." Dakota eyed the Octoling's unhealthy looking tentacles with concern. "Have you been looking after yourself?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Dakota slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. She took a seat beside Tuuri and couldn't help but smile at the little creature in the tank that so occupied her attention. A baby octoling that shared Tuuri's dark purple eyes was using her tentacles and less developed limbs to open a plastic jar. Watching her trying to figure out the mechanism of the lid, which she did quickly, and then hurriedly investigate what was inside was both adorable and heartwarming.

"Dawww, she's already learning to take things apart. Better be careful or her brain'll get too big for the rest of her."

Turri chuckled but her face shone with pride and her dark purple eyes gleamed with adoration. "I can't believe she's so healthy. I wasn't even supposed to be able to have children, but then somehow…," Tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes and Dakota wrapped a comforting tentacle around her. Turri always got emotional when this subject came up and she usually brought it up herself.

"I'm just so thankful for her. Since I left the army, I didn't think I had a reason for living, but now I have Vita, a healthy strong child. I couldn't be happier."

Vita, in the Octoling language, was a name that roughly translated to mean "one who inspires vigour in everyone else." Dakota thought that appropriate since all the Octolings in the workshop had been feeling rather aimless and just trying to survive from one day to the next, but now the family had a new life to raise and to care for. They considered her a blessing from the gods and were now determined to raise her well.

"I think I have something that might make you a little bit happier." Dakota reached into her bag and pulled out the plastic wrapped subs. "I made a couple of sammiches for the hungry mama."

Tuuri gasped. "So much food! No I… I couldn't possibly take it all for myself. I, I'd probably get fat from eating so much."

It actually hurt Dakota a little that these Octolings, her friends, were so used to such meagre meals that they thought they would get fat from a couple of sub sandwiches. From the look of those wilted tentacles though, it seemed like Tuuri hadn't even been doing that, focused entirely on the well-being of her child. She had been told that this wasn't unusual behaviour for an Octoling mother. Dakota had heard horror stories where Octolings had died of hunger because there wasn't enough food for the baby and them, and then their dead bodies would emit a strange odour that enticed their offspring to eat their dead carcass, providing them with enough sustenance to last a little longer. Just thinking about that made Dakota shiver.

"You have to. You can't do your best to take care of Vita if you don't look after yourself. Mama needs to be healthy too." She handed the first sub to Tuuri who reluctantly accepted it. She peered down at her child, swimming from toy to toy in her little fish tank.

"In that case I gratefully accept. Thank you."

Before unwrapping the sub, she grabbed a plastic sheet and put it on the floor in front of her. That sheet was for catching crumbs. It was something Dakota had seen all the Octolings here do. At the end of the meal, they would pour the crumbs that had fallen onto the sheet into their mouths so as to waste as little food as possible. Dakota was saddened that they had to go to such extremes to live here.

"Well, I'd better get to work." Dakota gave Tuuri a pat on the head and then waved at the baby. "Bye bye Vita." The baby looked at her and let out a joyful chirp that brought a smile to Dakota's face and happiness to her heart. Maybe if she could have shown her mother this, she wouldn't be so opposed to her coming here all the time.

Leaving mother and child alone, Dakota went back downstairs. As she passed the kitchen, she spotted a couple more girls there making lunch for everyone. Lunch wasn't much more than a snack for them. They'd be lucky if they got both a breakfast and dinner meal in a day.

Dakota slipped on her gloves as she entered the workshop area again. Looking around, she could see the dozen Octolings all hard at work, helping each other out to try and make a living by using what skills they possessed. Not just for themselves, not just for each other, but for a child they had all adopted as their own. They weren't coworkers; they were all family.

Dakota just couldn't understand why everyone else thought so little of their kind when they were capable of such unity and selflessness. To Dakota, these poor, destitute Octolings were the noblest of peoples. They were her friends, and she couldn't bring herself to go out and fool around while they were struggling to eek out a living for themselves.

Dakota spotted Tamli, walking from station to station with a clipboard and flagged her down. "I'm ready to work. Where do you need me?"

Author's Notes:

This is the first in this series of short stories. The star of this story, Dakota, is an OC borrowed from a friend and used with permission. I hope you like this little story and a different view of the Octolings. Stay tuned for the next one.