You have a treehouse in the woods that you visit every night after high school to wind down, but you had a hunch someone else has been using it.
You weren't actually sick, it was all a ploy for your parents to allow you to skip school. See, you had this treehouse that you considered a very sacred space for yourself, as it was hidden away in the trees behind your home.
Well, maybe it wasn't so hidden after all, since you are lead to believe someone else has been using it in their spare time as well. You concluded that they must be using it during school, because you use it after.
With a parting "love you", your parents left for work after ensuring you would be alright on your own. You wait a couple minutes before springing out of bed, pulling in your comfy trousers and baggy shirt. You decide to forgo tying your laces.
---
Your legs swung back and forth over the wooden edge of your treehouse, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone. You'd been waiting for half an hour, but it didn't bother you; you had to get here before the trespasser did.
"Hey!" Called an unfamiliar voice from below, causing you to look up- er, well, down?- from your phone. It was a tall boy with a tank top and shaggy, dark brown hair. You knew who it was; Daniel Diaz, he was classed as the 'weird kid', never fitting in with one group and just hanging out alone.
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"What are you doing here?" You ask rudely, crossing your arms.
He raises a hand to his chest and points to himself, glaring, "This is my treehouse, get lost. I found it first."
"It's my treehouse, my dad built it with me," you reply, irritated.
He looks down at the floor, not being much of the talkative type after having 2 unfortunate deaths in his family, having to move from Seattle to live with his mother alone. Daniel raises his head and sighed, "Can I at least use it while you're at school?" He gave up rather easily, something you haven't seen from him during classes, those of which he hasn't actually attended in a month, "I'll stop leaving messes up there."
You didn't know whether it was the sadness in his voice or the big brown eyes staring up at you, but you relent. "Fine," you make it sound like you were annoying, but in truth you weren't, "I guess... you can come up here with me sometimes too."
"Wait, really?" He grins, jogging over to the wooden steps nailed into the trunk of the tree, "Awesome possum!"
