Amazing Kids! Magazine

The House on Freedom Street

By Ignacio Mendoza., Age 12, California

 

One cold December morning my dad woke me up with the chilling news that we had to move out of the house I loved the most. My father told me to sit down so we could both discuss our new house. I moved more than once, so it was no shock to me.

I lived on Homer Street for as long as I could remember. On the right side of the street was my orange house. It had one floor and a wide backyard that had a lot of roots coming from the floor messing our garage and fence.

After eating some casual breakfast my father asked my brother and I if we wanted to see the new house. My brother and I quickly blurted out, “Yes!” As my dad drove to the new house we kept on passing many interesting streets until we entered Freedom Street.

As we entered Freedom Street my father had stop the car on the left side of the street saying, “There she is.”

I turned around to see our new house. It was as green as a pure lemon and had a big fat Hawaiian leafy tree by the drive way. It had beautiful white sage flowers, fresh green cut grass, and a red pathway that swirled like a snake. The house had one floor and the neighborhood was was very peaceful and quiet. When we entered the house it smelled like fresh paint.

“Ew! What is that smell!” My brother screamed

“It’s horrible!”

“Well get used to it,” my father grumbled. “It’s the smell of our new home.”

I walked around the house and it was cool. The hall had a wide space, two big rooms with white walls, and spaced closets. I could just already imagine us in our new home.

“Hey dad, when are we moving in!” I asked.

“In two more weeks!” he answered.

As the two weeks came to an end my family and I were already packed. We went from Homer Street to Freedom Street carrying many boxes. On the last box I took a moment to remember our memories my family and I had in the house and said goodbye.

As we got to the new house and I unloaded the last box from my dad’s Nissan white pickup truck. I noticed our next door neighbors staring at us. They stared very narrow like an eagle looking at its prey. For many weeks we unpacked.

The house was so organized it looked as if it was a sweet magnificent hotel. When school ended, the first day of summer began. I woke up on a hot sunny morning. As usual my mother and I were always up, and my father and brother were still sleeping. Later in the afternoon, the heat grew so intense, it was as if the sun was right next to me. Although it was hot, the house did have a wonderful A.C. that kept us cool. I sat down to watch TV when the doorbell suddenly rang. As always kids must check the window. When I checked the window, a lady was standing. There, my mom was the only person in the house during my dad and brother weren’t home.

When my mom answered the door, the lady cheerfully said hello. She was a proud country woman wearing a rose red elegant dress and her hair was very blonde and with pure green eyes and with a country soft voice she came into our house along with an apple pie baked to perfection. The lady sat down and began to talk about the neighborhood and greeting us.

“This place is wonderful, that’s if your next door neighbor don’t ruin it,” the lady said.

“I’m sorry, what?” my mom said confused.

“Yeah,” the lady said. “Your next door neighbors made two families move out this very home”.

“Well I have to go home now,” the lady said. “Bye!” She cheerfully left out the door.

Later that night my parents discussed what the lady said. My father ignored the lady’s comment and reassured my mom that everything was going to be fine. After those words, my mom said OK and we all went to bed. The next morning, our problems began. That early morning, I woke up startled from a familiar scream like my dad’s strong and surprised shout. I rushed outside to the cold to see my dad’s pickup truck all scratched up, all four tires flat, and the front window cracked.

After the incident, my dad was out to go to the car dealership in my mom’s black Camry Toyota when our next door neighbors teenage son came out of nowhere, almost hitting our car, causing the teenage boy to blame my father for wanting to run him over. Many things like this happened to us, things like them blaming us for stealing their tools, the teenager scratching our home windows, the youngest son hurting my little brother, complaining we were too loud especially on parties, and calling the cops twice for just having a party guest car on the side of their home. It was like jail and other people from the street disliked us because of all the rumors they made about us.

One day, my little brother was going outside to ride his bike. My mother told me to go outside in case anything happened to him while they fixed the backyard door. So, as I stepped out, I saw the youngest child from next door neighborhood. His name was Michael, aka whiner boy. He was sensitive, selfish, short, and six years old which made him three years older than my brother.

Michael was pushing my brother forcing him to get off the bike and Michael’s mom was on the phone outside as if nothing was happening. I ran to haul Michael away from my brother. Michael landed on the ground and began crying causing his mother to come.

“What did you do?” she yelled.

“Nothing,” I said nervously hiding my brother behind me.

“You could have hurt him!” said Michael, still crying.

“What are you doing?” the lady roared.

I was surprised she was sticking up for me. With all the commotion, Michael’s dad had come.

“Take those revolting children out of my face!” he yelled.

“These children aren’t revolting. Maybe if you were nice you could have met these young sweet children and how come your one year old hasn’t stop crying?” the lady said.

“He’s six!” Michael’s mom yelled.

“I haven’t noticed,” the lady said.

Michael’s parents were shocked and returned to their home, slamming the door.

“Now are you guys ok?” she asked.

“Yes and thank you,” I said, hugging her.

Later that day, my parents found out what happened. My parents apologized for what happened and discussed the commotion. A week later, we found out that Michael’s family was moving because they had little money. On the same day when they were moving, the lady invited my family to her home to have a barbeque. During the barbeque, my little brother played with the lady’s youngest son, my father talked to lady’s husband about fitness and sports, my mom and the lady spoke about women life, and I became good friends with the lady’s eldest son.

One comment

  1. Rosie rios /

    kool storie