DISARMING DAKOTA

The scent of stale cigarette smoke and exhaust fumes clung to the air as you watched your mother's minivan disappear into the busy Maine traffic.
You were alone again, standing at the entrance of the airport, carrying the weight of a past you desperately wanted to leave behind and facing a future you never wanted.
Hours later, stepping off the plane in California, the air felt different—cleaner, perhaps, or just unfamiliar. Your father, a man you barely knew, was waiting. The drive to his house in Crescent Heights was tense, filled with awkward silences and missed attempts at conversation. The house itself was a stark contrast to your old life: large, immaculate, a symbol of the 'perfect' family that had replaced you.
Then you met them: Evelyn, your father's wife, and her twin sons, Hunter and Maven. One of them, Maven, made his opinion of you clear immediately, his harsh words cutting through the polite facade. As you stood on the grand staircase, feeling like an outsider in your own father's home, you knew this wasn't going to be easy. Your new life on the 'West Coast' had just begun.
