my best friends older brother

5.

"Its 35 degrees!" Sandy declared, beaming out the window at the back garden. The back garden which was vibrant with the summer sun. The back garden we'd been playing in since 4th grade.

Sandy was a summer girl, she loves going to beaches and getting tanned, going swimming and not having to wear layers. I don't care about whatever weather it is, as long as its not too hot or too cold I'm perfectly content.

"We've got to do something we can't waste the day stuck in our room! Let's go skating or go in the back garden!" She insisted, and she was persistent. She took my hand in hers and yanked me from sitting on the edge of my bed.

I struggled and pried my hand away from hers but it was no use. I'm a scrawny, lanky guy and she's a well-built girl. This was a loosing fight the moment she grabbed my hand.

She pulled me down the stairs and lead me into the back garden. I was working up a sweat already, my orange garfeild tshirt was baggy enough for me to cool down a little when a breeze could blow up it.

I felt my bare feet against the nice soft grass, no mud, no dirt, just beautiful soft grass. A smile forced it's way onto my face, I've missed summer.

Sandy turnt to me and then pointed at the treehouse, "Do you remember when my dad built that for us!" She squealed in delight. Memories flooded my head. I did remember, he did it near my birthday as an early birthday present. It's big enough to be an apartment! That doesn't surprise me as much as it should seeing as they are the andersons.

She didn't even have to drag me anymore, and I don't think she wanted to. My hand was working up a sweat which must've made her grossed out.

I ran beside her towards our treehouse, a house which we have shared so many memories in. It doesn't have any technology, but it does have a few comfy things to help us hang out.

A tattered rug, an old couch, some crates we used as a table, a few old skateboard magazines, a ton of empty soda cans and a bunch of Christmas lights. Its so cozy at night.

We chambered up the ladder, both almost falling from moving too fast. She pushed through the hatch door and we were emerged into out wooden cottage-like treehouse. Wooden planked flooring, wooden walls, wood pannel ceiling.

Me and Sandy excitedly looked around, seeing everything just as we'd left it months earlier. Magazines strewn on the couch and a soda can pyramid which we glued together incase it fell. Nostalgia washed over me.

"Hey, is it still there?" I asked, looking at Sandy with a half mischievous half worried look. Okay, so maybe it's not all innocent childhood memories.

She lifted up the plaid couch cushion to reveal our most prized possession. A gun. Well, in our defence we never knew it was real. We got it at an arcade when we were 15 and thought it was just a realistic nerf gun. I mean, come on! How were we supposed to know that 10,000 tickets could buy us a real gun. The guy didn't even ask for id!

Enough about me trying and sort of failing to sound innocent. The guns top is a dark plum purple, the bottom from the handle to the bottom of the front was black.

And it just so happens that we can restock on bullets using the basement, Sandys dad used to go hunting and occasionally still does. He never notices that his bullets are running low until he goes hunting. He never suspects anything either!

"Heck yeah." Sandy cheered, picking it up and moving it up and down to show its heaviness. We never really use it for shooting, we occasionally do use it in the woods on soda bottles or beer bottles. Target practice.

I plopped myself down on the couch, the springs propelling me up and down like a cartoon for a few seconds. Sandy joined, placing her legs in a crossed position whilst she observed the gun to see if there was any rusting.