Creek 2.0

i - the treehouse

Craig's POV

There's always been this tree house in the woods near my house. It's been there since my family moved in. It's old, the wood is decaying and splintering, and the structure is basically falling apart. But it's still pretty cool. It's not that high off the ground either, about three feet.

Before Trisha was born, I made dad replace the floor and some of the walls, so that it was safe for a clubhouse. But Clyde never wants to come over because Tolkien has some new game, Tolkien isn't allowed over in case he gets dirty and gets mud on his fancy house, and Jimmy can't get into the treehouse. So it's just my treehouse.

Sometimes I let Trisha bring her dolls in and we have a tea party, but that's rare. Besides, she lost interest since the new neighbours moved in. She says that the new kid there uses the treehouse too, and that she doesn't like how he looks. Which is weird considering she looks like a mole rat, but, I'm not allowed to say that. Especially not since our parents deemed her the favourite. To my face. Twice.

I've never seen the new kid next door. Only the parents, who, seem normal enough. Maybe a little odd, but, then again, Stan's dad literally owns a weed farm.

That's besides the point. Since Trisha stopped hanging out with me, the treehouse became my treehouse. So I brought a few old blankets and pillows out to make it homely, and a little warmer. If the neighbour's kid is using it, I at least want it to be somewhat comfortable.

It's weird how I've never crossed paths with this kid, considering the amount of time I spend in that treehouse to avoid my parents. They're always taking Trisha somewhere or other. Seeing the Marshes, visiting Ike, going to the park, or a doctors appointment. It's like they forget they have another child. The treehouse is becoming a tree home. I've slept in it several times, I do my homework in it, I text my friends and make plans from it. Fuck it, I even eat in it.

It's my personal home, where I can exist and be seen. By who, or what, I don't know. The wood is more of a listener that my parents. And the things its heard, seen, and comforted make it better than both of them.

*

As usual, I'm home alone again. Tricia had a prearranged playdate, but I had thought our parents would come back to spend time with me, like they had said. Thirty minutes later, I'm still alone.

'Stupid fucking...wish I was still an only child.'

I scowl at the thought. I love Trisha really, but, she threw my life around. Flipped it and tossed it like a damn maraca. I kick the piles of snow and odd stones on my way to the treehouse, cursing under my breath, a frown etched into my face. It's so frustrating to feel more heard by an inanimate object than your own parents.

I don't even go in immediately. I just sit at the base of the ladder, cursing and tossing snowballs at other surrounding trees. Which is when I notice the creak of wood. The creak of someone else in the house.

"What the fuck..."

And that's when I catch a glimpse of golden hair.