It’s a normal Saturday morning. I’m 12 years old and in 7th grade at the middle school nearby. I live in a pretty small neighborhood where everyone knows each other quite well compared to big cities.
I’m sitting on the porch stool in front of my little house. My little puppy that I was given for my recent 12th birthday is sitting next to me happily barking for me to play fetch with him.
Everything seemed normal to me at first.
Looking out and around the neighborhood, I notice something strange going on. This is due to my, as my parents call it, annoying observant and curious nature. There are police officers nearby talking to the landlord.
This isn’t normal for our small town.
They’re going over to Mrs. Pauley’s house. I wonder if something happened. She’s already hurting from her husband’s death and being home alone now with no children around. I knew them. They put up with me being the little kid a long time ago before.
Why are they going to her house? Why are they making her leave the house? Did she do something wrong?
She was always nice to me and my family. Everyone else always think she’s one of the nicest people in the neighborhood. I hope nothing’s actually wrong.