The Case of the Woods

Chapter One

Well, how should I start? The year was 1984 in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Allegheny County was huge—many different people lived in it. All of those people, and me. They call me Connie Usoro. I was a small, feisty eleven year old with light brown hair and crystal blue eyes. I lived with my parents and my little brother Dylan. He was only eight years old, and as you can imagine, he was the average eight year old in the eighties. He was cocky with a stick so high up his rear end i could see it when he opened his wide mouth. But, he was my little brother and I guess that meant I had to love him.
My neighborhood was crowded with cars lined up the sides of the road. Not everyone was blessed with a driveway, so they had to resort to parking their car along the curb in front of their house. Most of the houses were a light color. Mine was a baby pink color, not a very appealing look for a house to be honest.
The summer was coming to an end in Western Pennsylvania, and the winters were sure rough. About each year, my father slips on the ice that layered our driveway and hurts his lower back. I used to laugh, but now it's getting a little sad. Dylan still laughs, though. Honestly, I don't expect much more of him. My mom would help him up with a careful hand, a worried look on her old face. He grunted as he gently stood up, cautious not to slip on the ice a second time. I watched from our dry front porch, leaning my elbow off of the railing. Dylan gave a daring grin as he gripped onto the railing to hoist himself up the stairs to the porch. I looked at him with an absent face, my lips chapped from the nippy air. He coolly put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, looking at the cement floor.
"Just like last year, dad has duffed it in the middle of the driveway!" Dylan looked at me with his eyebrows pushed together tightly. I hated when he made that face. Like I didn't know he fell? I was right here. I sighed, brushing by him into the house. My nails were unusually plain—maybe a light green color would make them pop.
Despite the blinding winter sun beating down on the sparkling snow, it did not care to melt. My neighborhood was mainly filled with ratty old men who scrunched their noses at bystanders. I couldn't help but give a scornful look in return. I hated to be looked down on. I've been on this earth for eleven years, and I have learned many things along the way. I was not to be looked down on by a lazy old man with a scraggly beard. At least I still have a whole future ahead of me. Some of the people in my neighborhood were warm old woman who were seen watering their tomato plants daily. I couldn't help but be in awe of how they managed to keep their tomatoes healthy. Their tomatoes were huge and bright, their color was a rich orange-red. In the summer, the old woman a few houses down gifted my mother a few tomatoes from her garden. My mother never let me have one for myself, though. She always used them to make a salad or a sandwich, which we usually ate for lunch. Still, I've always dreamed of having one of those juicy vegetables for myself.
Somehow, the summers were always longer than the winters. My father always said that the more fun you have, the shorter time gets. The last few winters of mine only consisted of listening to music and reading short novels. It was fun for maybe a few weeks but then it got old. Occasionally, I would agree to go outside with Dylan and make a snowman. But, even that got old over the years. Getting my snowsuit on took more time than building the snowman, and to me that was a complete scam. The only joy I got out of going outside in the winter was Leroy Nelson.
Leroy was a year older than me. He lived right smack next to me, only a thin strip of grass separated our houses. He had blond hair that was so light, it was almost white in color. He had gray eyes and freckles dotted under his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose. We grew up together, since we have both lived in our houses since birth. We saw each other everyday in school, and everyday after school. He sure was a fun boy to be around, he was lighthearted and funny. I decided to give in and zip up my snowsuit when I saw Leroy making a snowman all my himself in his front yard.
I walked up to him, my scrunched nose cherry red. He looked at me, his neck stiff and his eyes squinted.
"Connie?" A smile crossed his red face.
"Need help," I politely asked him, kneeling down beside him.
"Oh, yeah. Thanks," he said, putting his mittened hands on the giant snowball he was rolling around. We both waddled around on our knees, rolling the snowball until we thought it had picked up enough snow. We then stood up, our knees stiff and sore.
"Where's Dylan? Inside?" Leroy stood with his back arched over, his hands on his achy knees. I nodded, stretching my arms around the back of my head.
Dylan didn't care for Leroy as much as I did. Though, he would come outside and play with him during the warmer seasons. Maybe it was the four-year age gap between the two.
We had finished our snowman, and I had to admit, I was pretty proud. It was about a head taller than me and Leroy. We almost dropped the head while trying to get it on top of the torso, but we somehow managed to push it up there. We made a face with small rocks, wedging them tightly into the mushy head of our snowman. Januaries were such cold months in Pennsylvania. But, Leroy helped make the better of it. For me, anyway.
When Dylan decided he wanted to join us, we had a snowball fight. I hid behind my short wall of brown snow, making snowballs as fast as my hands could move. As soon as I was done molding the snow into a slick ball, I sat it down in a pile with other snowballs. Suddenly, a snowball thrusted into the side of my head. It exploded, the remains landing in my lap. I quickly looked up, my eyes narrowing at who was responsible. It was Dylan, a mischievous smirk on his round face. I growled, grabbing a few of my snowballs before standing up to my feet. Dylan's face immediately turned into a shocked expression. He tried to hide behind his tiny snow wall but we was still exposed. I chucked a snowball at him, but missed. I grunted, sending another one his way. This time, I managed to hit him on the top of the head. He looked up at me, his lips pressed together in a pout.
As we were brawling, Leroy was building up his wall. He built it up until it was high enough to completely hide behind. I ignored Dylan's protests and started to build up my wall myself. My eyes looked up to the darkening sky, slowly blinking the snowflakes away. Maybe father was right. Time did fly when you were having fun.
The snow melted into a perfect spring season. As in perfect, I mean rainy and wet. But, it was warm enough to only wear a light jacket or hoodie. Still, I wore my rain boots no matter what season it was. Spring meant no snow, and no snow meant no more snow-days. School was every weekday morning at exactly eight-thirty.
I grunted, slapping the top of my alarm clock with the palm of my hand. Another school day is what it was. I hated these days. They seemed to drag on forever, and the I had to do it all again the next day. It's all part of a child's life, and there was no buts about it.
My mother drove me, Dylan, and Leroy to school every morning in her station wagon. I slid out of the car, swinging my backpack over my arms.
"Have a good day, Honey!" My mom waved with a bright grin. I groggily waved back, still worn from waking up so early.
Dylan parted ways with me and Leroy, walking down the hallway towards his classroom without a simple farewell. I groaned, dragging my sneakers along the tile flooring.
"Tired," Leroy asked me. I looked at him with a blank face, my eyes droopy and dark.
"I can't wait for summer break," I groaned.
"I agree. Then, we can play everyday in the mornings," Leroy agreed. We continued to walk down the hall towards our classroom. Our teacher, Mrs. Book, greeted us from her desk. She was nice, but a little too faithful in her students. I sat down at my desk after hanging my backpack on the rack at the back of the classroom. My desk was in the second to last row, right behind Leroy. Unlike last year, me and Leroy got the same teacher. We jumped up and down in joy when we had heard about it. I watched Mrs. Book teach, my chin on my arm in boredom. I could see Leroy drawing in his notebook in front of me. He never payed any attention in class, and I didn't blame him. School was the most boring thing a child could endure. At least we got the weekends off. If we didn't, I swear my head would explode.
Mrs. Book turned around, her eyes locking on Leroy. She pointed her ruler at him with a stern face, her teeth clenching. Leroy looked up when he heard her firmly say his name. He quickly inhaled, closing his book and stuffing it inside his desk. She told him that if she saw him doing that again, he would be punished. Leroy was brave, since he was told that a few weeks ago as well. Still, he seemed to forget about the teacher's warnings and he kept doodling instead of learning. "What a clown" Mrs. Book sneered just about everyday. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at those words, knowing that she probably did the same thing while she was in school.
"What—a—clown," she sighed.
Mother picked us up again after school. She turned and gazed over her shoulder at me before starting the car.
"Come next year, you will walk to school," she informed me. I grunted. I didn't mind the long walk, but the fact that I had to wake up earlier made me cringe.
Me and Leroy decided to stay outside when we arrived home. Dylan also joined us, but he was spectating more than anything. We always took awhile figuring out what game to play. Tag was no fun because Leroy was too fast for me and Dylan. Hide and Seek was too old, since we've played it since we were toddlers. So, we just decided to listen to music and chat. We sat on the stairs of Leroy's front porch. The sun was warm, but the breeze made us shiver. The "for sale" sign swayed back and forth in front of the house across the street. That sign had been in the lawn of that house for a couple years now. For some reason, nobody ever cared to buy it. In some way, I wanted someone to movie into the house. I hoped that maybe they had a kid my age so it wasn't just me and Leroy all the time. But, my fantasy held still while the sun glared off of the red sign in the front yard. The house was different than the others. It was old, some of its shingles missing from the roof. It was a dark brown color with an old stained fence guarding the grass. It sure did stand out among the brightly colored homes with the brightly colored flowers. The house was somewhat scary-looking, tall bushes covering the front porch. Maybe nobody wanted to move into because of all the updates it needed. To be honest, I don't blame anyone for not moving into that house. It looked unstable of the outside, I could only imagine how it looked on the inside.
Leroy playfully punched Dylan in the shoulder while I was lost in thought about that house. Dylan looked over to me and grabbed my hair. I snapped out of my daze and whirled around to hit him in the arm. His smirk turned into an angry frown as he held his arm where I punched it. Leroy looked over to the house, noticing how I was staring at it.
"They might as well tear it down," he spoke. I looked at him in confusion.
"The house?"
"Mhm. It's nothin' but an eyesore. It's been doing nothin' but sitting there for the past two years, anyway."
"Who knows, maybe somebody will come by and buy it."
"If it hasn't happened yet, then it won't happen at all," he stated.
Leroy was incorrect. Leroy was so very incorrect.