Justin Demyan
E. Doyle
English 11AP (7)
21 December 2018
The
Neighborly Conflict
I grew up on a
street where about twenty young athletes would gather and play any
sport you can think of. We were all friends, but there was a smaller
group of us who would play roller hockey regularly. The spot where we
played was at our cul-de-sac. We called it the "Big Circle". It
is a large circle at the end of my street, surrounded by woods. The
pavement is flat all around and there is a line of tar on the far end
that marked off a small zone of about a quarter of the circle. We
used this as the "take back area": the area to which the player
has to take the ball back before scoring when there is only one net.
It was a perfect sized rink for a group of young kids to play roller
hockey. It is four houses past mine. I was the closest out of the
bunch. That meant I was in charge of the net. I was in charge of the
goalie pads. I was in charge of getting food or water when needed. I
was essentially in charge of everything. But there was always one big
problem, Mrs. Smith.
Mrs. Smith is
beyond ridiculous. She lives across from me, right next to the Big
Circle. Ever since we were young, she has always started problems
with us kids. We didn't really get along with the Smith children,
they liked to do different things than my friends and I. But because
we are around the same age as them, Mrs. Smith would not have any of
our sporting activities. For some reason I would always feel her
watching me from her house. Her wrinkled, restless face was always
covered by a white foam visor from the dollar store, even if it
wasn't sunny out. She wore the same shirt every single day, an old
pink polo shirt. I would always feel her harsh glare through the
window of her tan "Town and Country" minivan as she drove by me
every day. I remember this so well because she scared the living
daylights out of my young self, and the images in my head still haunt
me. It felt as if I was being bullied by a grown woman, and I still
do not understand exactly why. No one does.
One
day, we were minding our own business, playing our game of roller
hockey, when Mrs. Smith came out to her car. Though, she didn't get
in her car. She stared at us. We couldn't tell if she was glaring
or she just wanted to watch. We continued to play as Jim took a slap
shot and went top right corner on Bob in goal. After a few minutes we
stopped and looked at her and the oldest of our group, Bill, said,
"What do you want?" She walked over with her back hunched looking
like an elderly gorilla who wanted trouble.
"You aren't
allowed to play here", she said. Even as young kids, we knew that
this cul-de-sac was public property and she was out of her mind. But
also, we were young kids, which meant we were still going to listen
to adults. We were there for a while and she effectively killed the
competitive mood, so we decided to just leave anyways.
It was our annual
Stanley Cup playoffs of roller hockey. We were ecstatic. It was
during winter, our favorite time to play because the weather was
cold, everyone was around, and it was in the midst of hockey season.
We all had our new jerseys, new sticks, new roller blades, and new
hats from Christmas. We played about half a game and then Mrs. Smith
decided to interfere. She was very angry. She came out of hiding and
said, "Uh-uh! Not today! You are not playing today!"
We looked at her
as if she was from a different planet. We ignored her and kept
playing as she yelled, "Are you kidding me? You are just going to
ignore me? This is part of our property." She was crazy. She stood
on the grass and just watched us play.
At her first
opportunity, when the ball came into her range, she grabbed it. She
then, hunched over, stormed into her house with our only hockey ball.
We then knocked on her door, demanding our ball back from her husband
who wanted no part of this. He said, "Guys, I don't want
involvement in this, but she did throw your ball deep into the woods.
I'm sorry guys." We couldn't believe this. Who did she think
she was deciding what to with our own property? We were done for the
day, very upset as our parents began to contact this witch about her
actions. She got a few angry phone calls and maybe a few pranks from
various members of the neighborhood, but we wills still never know
who did it.
Another day, not
too long after, we were playing our game in the evening and she came
out again. This time, instead of staring, Mrs. Smith looked in our
direction and quickly turned around to go back in her house. About 15
minutes later, a police car came to the Big Circle. We thought it was
doing a routine pass through our neighborhood but he stopped and
rolled down the window. He told us that he got a complaint from
someone nearby about us playing. He saw how young we were and he saw
that we were just innocently playing street hockey. He then told us
out of kindness, "Don't hit any houses. Don't cause any
problems". I recall him also saying, "Yeah, I'm not really sure
why I got sent here". We could see the frustration on his face,
having to waste his time, driving out to a cul-de-sac to find kids
playing. That was the first experience I've ever had with a police
officer.
It was a cold
winter day. There was snow rimming the curb of the Big Circle. We had
a large shoveling team and it took no time at all. We were playing
with two nets this time. Also, there was more people this time,
usually we only have around four or five players and a goalie, but
this time we had five players and a goalie on each team. It was one
of the most fun games we have had in a while. Everyone was scoring
and hitting. Then, out of nowhere, Jim suddenly stopped. He was
looking right at the Smith's window that directly faced the Big
Circle. "Hey look at that," Jim said, "Mrs. Smith set up some
cameras". We could see it. There was a faint blinking light coming
from that window, exactly as a camera would. We also noticed a human
shadow continuously appear at the window frame. If it wasn't
actually a camera, we had a creepy stalker watching us play street
hockey from their window.
We decided it did
not matter and continued with our game as if no one was filming us.
It was a long game, we had been playing for hours. Then, Bob yelled,
"Next goal wins!" It became a frenzy, everyone who had no gas
suddenly had a full tank and it turned into a highly competitive
finish. I noticed that Bill had the puck behind our own net. I snuck
behind the defense and he flipped it high in the air. I had a
breakaway. Me against Luke, the goalie. I faked the shot, went to the
backhand and scored. That was that. We were all
done for the day so we sat on the curb, talking and doing various
things on our phone.
As we were
preparing to go home, a realization hit me. I was tired of lugging my
hockey net back and forth between the cul-de-sac and my house. So I
thought, what would be the harm in leaving the net at circle? It's
public property but there was a basketball hoop that lasted a couple
years there. I left the net and went home to get some warmth.
The next day, I
came home from school and my net was gone. I was outraged! At first,
I couldn't believe someone really stole my net. How would they have
done that? Brought a pickup truck and decided that this beat up
hockey net was worth taking? My dad called the township to see if
they had any idea where it was. It turned out that they had it. Who
gave it to them? Mrs. Smith did. She called the township and made
them take it. So we had went to the township building to get it back.
Once we got the
net back, we were ready to play. We went up to the cul-de-sac with a
smaller group composed of only 4 of us. We started playing and not
too far into the game, Mrs. Smith came out and instead of stalking
us, she wanted to talk. She said, "I am willing to talk this out
and compromise. Bill you are the oldest, so you can be the
spokesman." She was a weirdo. She went on and said, "You guys can
play on the weekdays after school until five".
Bill's response
was, "Yeah you're crazy. This is not your property. We can play
here as we please." She then angrily shook her head and walked back
inside.
About a day
later, we got a letter in the mail from the township inviting the
parents of the roller hockey kids to a meeting to discuss these
issues. My dad attended the meeting. Mrs. Smith was there. My dad
thought it was the most stupid, waste of time. So he immediately
chimed in and said, "A cul-de-sac is a public property. If you try
to keep kids from playing there, you won't be able to enforce it.
This is the dumbest waste of time."
After that, Mrs.
Smith and the township staff were quiet. It was as though there was
no purpose in being there after that. From then on, we did not have
further problems with her. Though, whenever we see her now, we'll
get dirty looks and ignorance from her as her sour self continues to
live across from me.
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