Camille Flynn

OConnor
Honors English
27 October 2015
A New Home, A New Reality
I remember the old neighborhood. The houses were packed together, lined up one by one
in a crescent shape. If you stood in the street, the houses appeared to be holding their breath.
There wasnt enough room to exhale. Each home would extend into the one next to it, beige
blending into beige and then blending into a slightly different shade of beige. But the normality
and uniformity of the homes gave way to a lot of ruckus and mischief. There were always some
children outside. The suburban neighborhood was alive with laughter, yells, and the occasional
summer breeze.
There were lots of kids in that neighborhood. We all played together: climbing up trees,
drawing chalk pictures, chasing each other around. We would rotate from garage to garage,
backyard to backyard. Legos, Nerf guns, and kickballs were everywhere. It didnt matter that I
was the only girl, out of nine. I was just as skilled as the boys when it came to building forts and
playing basketball. But eventually we all started to grow up a bit, and I realized that I was pining
for another girl playmate.
I was around ten years old when I was told of another family down the street, a bit
isolated from the close-knit neighborhood that I lived in. Apparently, this family had two
daughters. One of the girls was my age, and the other one was four or five years older. The house
wasnt very far away from us, just forty feet farther than the last house in the crescent. Nobody
really knew the family, as they hadnt come to any of the Fourth of July parties or Kick-the-Can
extravaganzas. But one day, it was around six oclock, and a kickball game had just begun. I

never really liked kickball that much, so I was sitting on my neighbors lawn, instead. One
mother, Carol, came up to me and asked if I was bored.
Kinda, I replied. I dont like kickball.
Sometimes it isnt very fun, huh? Carol commented. You know, you should meet that
little girl down the street. I bet she would play with you.
But I dont even know her! Ive never seen her before.
Still, I think it would be more fun to play with a girl, rather than all these rowdy boys.
Why dont you go knock on her door? Invite her outside to the kickball game.
I dont want to play kickball.
Go and do it anyways. Maybe she wants to play kickball.
Fine! Ill go do it. Back when I was ten, it was easy to go and ask another kid if they
wanted to come outside and play. So I skirted around the kickball game that was taking place in
the street, and marched right up to the girls house. I could feel many pairs of eyes on me; my
mother probably wondering what I was up to, all the guys pausing their game for a brief second
to see where I was going. And Carol, satisfied that she was going to help bring together two little
girls living in the same neighborhood.
I rang the doorbell once, butterflies starting to fly around my stomach. What if this girl
was really weird, I asked myself anxiously. What if she thought that I was really weird?
After a few moments, and after a dogs high-pitched barking, the door opened. A tall, thin
lady wearing glasses was standing there, looking slightly puzzled.
Hi there, how can I help you? she asked.

Um, well, Im Camille and I live down the street, and I heard that a girl lives here. Does
she want to come outside and play kickball? All of the other neighbors are outside too. I replied,
cautiously. Its ok if she doesnt want to.
Oh, how nice of you! She smiled. And your names Camille?
Yup.
Ok. Sarah! She called back into the house. Someones here for you!
I heard some footsteps, and then a girl walked into the living room. Who is it? She
asked.
Her names Camille, and she lives down the street. The lady answered.
Hi, Sarah said to me.
Hi, I replied. Do you want to come outside and play kickball?
Um, sure, I guess, Sarah answered. Right now?
Yeah, I said.
Ok. Let me put my shoes on first.
Well, you girls go have some fun! My name is Judy, by the way, Judy said to me.
Sarah tugged on a pair of Converse, and looked back at me. Ok. Lets go, then.
Sarah looked very different from me. Her brown hair was actually brushed thoroughly,
unlike my tangled blonde hair that was pulled into a ponytail. She was wearing a blue plaid skirt,
with a white shirt, and I was wearing jean shorts and a pink shirt. After comparing the two of us,
I realized that she might not like me. She looked so girly.
We walked over to the kickball game, and many parents came up to us and introduced
themselves to her. Carol looked very pleased, as did my mother. A few of the boys waved hello
and said their names.

Sarah looked slightly uncomfortable, so I tried to distract her with the kickball game.
Do you want to kick first, I offered to her, trying to be polite.
Thats ok. You can go first.
I went up to first base, which was right next to the basketball hoop, as Sarah stood on the
lawn, watching me. Chris rolled the ball toward me, and I kicked it with all my might. It didnt
go very far, but I had enough time to sprint to first base. I then looked back at Sarah. She was
shifting from foot to foot, not leaving the lawn,
Are you going to go or what? Chris asked her. Its your turn.
Um, no thanks. I think Ill just watch, She called back to him.
Are you sure? I asked. Its not that hard.
No, Im fine, really.
If you say so.
Eventually, I rounded the bases. When I was back at home, I looked at Sarah.
Do you not like to play kickball? I asked her.
No, I like to play. I just dont want to right now.
Ok. Then lets do something else.
We walked back to her house, and explored her backyard. There was an old, beaten down
hot tub that nobody ever used, a tiny apple tree, and a patio with a unicycle on it. Whats the
unicycle for? I asked.
Its for school. Im learning how to ride it in PE.
Later, I learned that Sarah actually didnt like kickball. And that she was pretty good at
riding that unicycle. Sarahs older sister was named Emily. Sarah and Emily got along pretty

well, despite their age difference. I met Emily that first time I went to Sarahs house, out in
Sarahs backyard,
Hey, she said. Im Emily.
Hi, I nervously replied. Im Camille.
You live down the street, right? Emily asked.
I nodded. In the tan house with the white trim and blue door.
All the houses are tan or beige, she commented. Even ours.
Yeah.
How come Ive never seen you before?
I dont know. Ive never seen you before, either.
Yeah, I guess youre right. Anyways, its nice to meet you, Camille.
You too, Emily.
Dont mind her, Sarah said, after Emily went back inside. Shes weird.
I like her, I said.
I left Sarahs house at around 9 PM. The kickball game had stopped a long time ago.
Bye, Sarah, I said, stepping out her front door.
Ill see you tomorrow right? She asked, suddenly.
Sure. I replied, surprised. What time?
Like 11 or 12?
Yeah, ok. Ill knock on your door, alright?
Ok. She gave me a shy half smile, and waved. Bye.
I spent the rest of that summer with Sarah. We had lemonade stands, made music videos,
and performed plays for her family. We designed art studios in each of our garages. We would

steal her sisters makeup and try it on in the bathroom. Sometimes we stayed out late at night,
eating Oreos and wearing sparkly outfits. We played a game called Tarzan, where we would stay
in a tree all day and pretend to live there. One night, during the Tarzan game, we built a fort out
of sheets in our neighbors tree. We planned to spend the night there, but eventually we went
back to our own houses. One day, with the help of my father and the rest of the neighborhood,
we built two rope swings in a tree in my front yard. We had a lot of fun together, but we also
played with the boys. There were giant water balloon fights, us versus them. And Sarah finally
got to join in on the Kick-the-Can game, which would go on for hours. It was a mystical
summer, the first summer of Sarah and Camille.
When the last day of summer was gone, we decided that we would always find time for
each other. On weekends and school nights, we would do our small amount of homework at one
of our houses, and then go do something fun. It was an easy friendship: all we had to do was
walk down the street, and knock on each others door.
However, each summer was our prime time. There werent any rules; we got to do
whatever we wanted. While the rest of my school-related friends were having trouble hanging
out with each other, all I had to do was walk down the street.
Sarah and I grew up together. We arranged and re-arranged our rooms too many times to
count, depending on which trend we were obsessed with at the time. We went shopping
together. We had dance parties in her room, with a disco light and a fan. We went through many
phases together, such as painting, baking, biking, and cleaning phases. I even helped name her
new cats with her. Her family became my second family, and half the time I would be at Sarahs
house. I would even be at her house on holidays. We would spend as much time together as
possible.

As the summers flew by, we became closer and closer. We thought, nothing could
separate us. Were practically sisters.
But one summer, the neighborhood fell asleep. It was put into a lull by all the computer
screens, iPhones, and video-games. We hardly ever saw the boys anymore, much less hung out
with them. They would always be inside a house, watching some type of screen. It was like they
disappeared. Sometimes, Sarah and I would want to hang out with them. We would knock on
their door, and their parents would answer it.
Hi, girls! How are you? they would ask.
Were good. we would smile. Can Andrew come outside?
Hold on, let me ask him.
A few seconds later, the parents would always come back to the door with a sad smile on
their faces. Sorry, they would say. Hes in the middle of a very important game right now, they
would say with finger quotations. He said maybe another time.
And Sarah and I would always go back to one of our houses, or back to the rope swings.
We would swing on them; see who got higher.We would pretend we were flying, flying through
the trees. It didnt matter that we never saw our neighbors anymore. We will swing on our swings
until kingdom come. Or until we get hungry.
My mother, wanting to escape from the dead neighborhood, started looking at other
houses. By the end of the summer, she had found a green fixer-upper on the west side. It was on
a small hill, and it was far away from the rest of its neighborhood. It was quiet, and not many
kids were outside. The hills surrounding it seemed to sing, but the song was sad. The house had a
history behind it, which I didnt know much about.

My family decided to move there. I would have to say goodbye to the beige suburbia full
of memories. I would have to say goodbye to the games that I had played. I would have to say
goodbye to all the boys. But most of all, I had to say goodbye to Sarah.
I dreaded telling Sarah about the move. How would it affect our friendship? Would I ever
see her again? Yes, the new house was in the same town, but it would never be the same. No
more knocking on her door late at night or early in the morning. It would be totally different. A
whole new world, and a whole new reality. I wouldnt have anyone to filter all my thoughts
through 24/7. No more face-to-face talks about nothing and everything. No more mystical
summers.
The walk down the street that one morning, near the end of summer, was the hardest. I
could never believe I was knocking on her front door when I was. Judy, as usual, waved me in
and told me Sarah was in the kitchen. It didnt matter that her whole family was in their pajamas.
I had seen them all in their pajamas before.
Hey, Sarah said, while chewing her bran muffin. Whats up?
Nothing. But I have something really important to tell you.
Immediately, Sarah perked up. What is it?
I looked into her eyes, wary. Lets go outside, my chin wobbling.
Why? I dont want to go outside.
Just because. Cmon.
Fine, she grumbled. She put down her muffin, and pulled open the screen door into her
backyard.
The sunlight was weak, and it was sort of cold outside. The whole morning was different
than what it should have been. I should have been eating a bran muffin with Sarah at the kitchen

table, talking about a funny thing that had happened last night, instead of standing outside in the
backyard with her.
Arms crossed, and wrapped up in her pink robe, she asked, Ok, what is it?
Sarah, I took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Im moving.
What do you mean, moving? She asked. Wait, like moving houses?
I nodded, slightly. Yeah. Oh my god, Sarah, Im so sorry.
She blinked. When are you moving?
I dont know, like the end of the summer?
Where are you going?
Im still going to be in Petaluma, but Im moving to a house on the west side.
Abruptly, she said, Can we go back inside now?
Yeah, sure.
When we went back inside the kitchen, she took the plate that she eating her bran muffin
on to the sink. Then she walked out of the kitchen and rested her forehead on the side of the hall.
Then she began to cry.
Sarahs mom came rushing down the hall. Whats wrong, Sarah? Judy asked, worried.
Camille is moving, mom!
Really? When are you moving? Where are you going? She asked me.
I think by the end of the summer, to the west side. I replied.
Well thats not so bad, Sarah. Stop crying, honey. You guys will still see each other, just
not every day. And you have a few more weeks!
It wont be the same mom! Sarah cried.

Sarah, were still going to be friends. Im never going to forget you! I interjected. Then
I started to cry. I hugged Sarah, hard. Its going to be ok.
Ok, Sarah said, wiping her tears.
For the rest of the summer, Sarah and I tried to ignore the fact that I was moving. We
pretended that it wasnt happening. And when the moving van came, during the last few days of
summer, Sarah went away to a friends house. Judy did not want Sarah to see me move away
from her.
When my room was finally set up in the new green house, I looked out the window. I was
so far away from everyone else in that neighborhood. I was so far away from Sarah. The sunlight
was golden in the new house, and it shone on my face. I blinked hard, and tried to not think
about how much I missed Sarah. Sarah and I texted every night, and she came over a few times
during that school year. But it was so hard. We didnt go to the same school, and we didnt live in
the same neighborhood anymore. I could feel our friendship slowly dying, just like my old
neighborhood.
I started junior high, and I met a whole lot of new people. Some of those people even
lived in my new neighborhood. But I could never forget Sarah.
Sarah was my first best friend. She helped shape who I am now. Without Sarah, I would
be a completely different person. I would have many different interests. I dont know if I would
like to decorate my room, or paint, or bake, or ride my bike, or keep my room clean if it werent
for Sarah doing all those things with me. From time to time, I think of Sarah and all the fun that
we had together. We knew each other so well. Its hard to believe that we dont even talk
anymore.

Sometimes, when I drive by that old neighborhood with my mom, dad or brother, we
silently look down the street. All is quiet. No more laughter or yells. The summer breeze seems
to have died down. The neighborhood is so different than it first was. It was alive a few years
ago, and now it is in an endless slumber. And yet, every house is still painted a shade of beige.
The houses are still packed together. But they dont blend together anymore. The neighborhood
isnt as close as before.
I know that my family must be thinking of something else when they look down that
street. Maybe the parties, or the chats over the hedge that they had with the neighbors. Maybe
they are thinking of how there used to always be multiple pairs of shoes at our front door, or
Legos littering the garage. Maybe they are thinking about the endless games of Kick-the-Can.
But I know who I am thinking of when I look down that street. I am thinking of Sarah, and what
used to be.