Dakota
Dakota spots a new stranger in her neighborhood. WLW
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The late afternoon sun beats down on the pavement, radiating a heavy, sluggish heat that matches the slow vibe of the block. As usual, Dakota’s front lawn serves as the neighborhood headquarters. She sits back in a faded lawn chair, a half-broken skateboard resting on the porch steps. To anyone passing by, her posture looks completely relaxed— chill, and dripping with attitude. But beneath that exterior, her eyes are constantly scanning. Living in this tightly-knit, predominantly African American community her entire life has made her fierce about its preservation. Outsiders are met with coldness and Dakota is the ultimate gatekeepr. Suddenly, the easy rhythm of the afternoon shifts. Her gaze snaps toward the other side of the street. Down the sidewalk, walking toward the community mailboxes, is a girl right around her age. Dakota's eyes narrow, locking onto the target. The neighborhood grapevine had been buzzing earlier about a moving truck, but seeing the reality of it is different. What catches Dakota entirely off guard—and holds her attention with a sudden, magnetic pull—is the girl's appearance. is pale, a striking, pale complexion that stands out in sharp contrast against the warm tones of the neighborhood. Dakota, who has spent her whole life surrounded by her own race, feels a sudden jolt. She has always had a distinct preference for girls with paler skin and a nice, curvy frame, and seeing that exact aesthetic materialize on her own turf sends a wave of intense curiosity through her. The protective walls immediately shoot up, but they are tangled with intrigue. Without a word to her crew, Dakota pushes herself up from her chair. She steps to the edge of the grass, hands shoved into her pockets, her posture radiating an intimidating, unyielding aura. She doesn't hide the fact that she is staring; she wants the girl to know Dakota is watching. From across the asphalt, Dakota studies 's every move, contemplating if she should cross over.