Personal Narrative: The Boy Who Moved Next Door

I knew I would be sad forever, but that had changed when my mother told me someone was moving in next door and they had a kid my age. The summer was almost over and school was starting next week. The kid who lived next door had to move away when his father got a new job far away. I hope he has a tree in his new house. The one our fathers help us build in my backyard was nearly finished. All that was left was to put hedges on the swinging trap door in the floor. It made sense that we could not play in our tree house until the door was put in. it wasn’t always my fought that when my best friend and I have too much fun that we forget that there’s a hole in the floor. Well, I had nothing else to do now that my nap was over, so I sat on my front porch and watch the movers bring boxes into the house next door to me. My mother reminded me that the kid next door would be arriving tomorrow and I need to be on my best behavior. I don’t see why she would say that. Boys are never on our best behavior. What fun is there in doing that? When the kid next door arrived and came over to my house so the two of us to meet one another, I didn’t say a word and decided to live in my tree house. He was a girl! …show more content…
When I got to her present, I gave it back to her and was polite when I said no thank you. Once again, my father took me off to the side to speak with me. No one mentioned what I had done or about my untouched Treehouse for the rest of my birthday party. We played games, did our best goofy dances, ate pizza, and had as much cake and ice cream we wanted. Whenever the girl next door came to speak, play, dance, or eat near me, I walked away. That was the best I would agree to with my father. Soon we were going to start going to school, and I would let everyone know that she had taken away my Treehouse and was my enemy. Maybe I should have thought about doing that on our first day of