For months, I thought I’d lucked out with the neighbor’s kids—two teenagers who spent their Sunday mornings cleaning up the street as if they were running for office. But when I caught one of them stashing something under a bush, I realized their “good deeds” weren’t exactly what they seemed.
As a woman in my 60s, I’ve seen just about everything in this neighborhood, from the good to the bad and everything in between. But seeing two teenagers, barely out of middle school, sweeping the sidewalks and picking up trash every Sunday? That gave me hope for the younger generation.
Every Sunday morning, I’d sit by my window with a cup of tea and watch them. They were out there, working hard—pushing brooms, hauling trash bags, and making the street look pristine. It was impressive, to say the least, and they reminded me of my own kids when they were younger, before they grew up and moved away. It was almost admirable.
One morning, while I was watering my plants, I spotted their mother, Grace, rushing out of her house. She always seemed to be in a hurry, probably off to work.
“Grace!” I called out, waving. “I just wanted to say your kids are doing a fantastic job cleaning up the neighborhood. You must be so proud!”
Grace paused, giving me a strange look, like I’d just said something that didn’t quite sit right with her. She smiled politely and replied, “Oh, uh… thank you, they’re… good kids.” Her tone was off, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Maybe she was just late for work.
Over the weeks, I continued watching Becky and Sam—that’s what I thought their names were—working diligently every Sunday morning. I even offered them lemonade once, but they politely declined, saying they had things to finish. I remember thinking how mature they were for their age.
Then, last Sunday, something peculiar happened. As usual, Becky and Sam were out there, heads down, working their way along the street. But this time, I noticed something odd. Sam wasn’t just picking up trash—he was crouching by the big oak tree in front of my house, sweeping leaves aside, and carefully placing something under a bush.
I squinted, trying to see through the window, but I couldn’t quite make it out. It didn’t look like trash. In fact, he seemed secretive, glancing over his shoulder before moving on. My curiosity was piqued. What could he be hiding?
I decided to wait until they left. After all, I’ve lived in this neighborhood for over 30 years, and something didn’t feel right. Once they disappeared around the corner, I slipped on my gardening gloves and headed outside. The cool breeze brushed my hair as I approached the bush. I bent down, moving the leaves aside where Sam had been crouching. My heart raced a little—it’s thrilling to uncover a mystery, even at my age.
And there it was: a small pile of coins. Quarters, dimes, even a couple of shiny pennies. I frowned, my mind racing. Why were they hiding money under a bush?
I kept searching. Once I knew what to look for, I found more coins—tucked behind the street sign, wedged between the bricks of the curb, even hidden near the storm drain. By the time I was done, I’d collected nearly five dollars.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Why would they be hiding money instead of picking up trash? Were they up to something sneaky?
Later that afternoon, I saw Grace unloading groceries from her car. It was the perfect chance to get some answers. I marched over, the coins jingling in my pocket.
“Grace!” I called out, waving her over.
She smiled, looking a bit surprised. “Hey! Is everything alright?”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied, forcing a casual tone. “I just wanted to mention again how thoughtful your kids are, cleaning up the street every week.”
Grace furrowed her brow in confusion. “Cleaning up the street? What do you mean?”
I blinked. “You know, they’re out there every Sunday, picking up trash, sweeping… I see them all the time from my window.”
For a moment, she looked puzzled, then suddenly burst into laughter, clutching her sides. “Oh, no, no, no! They’re not cleaning!” she managed to say between fits of giggles.
Now I was the one confused. “Wait, what?”
“They’re on a treasure hunt!” she exclaimed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Their grandpa hides coins around the neighborhood every Sunday. It’s a little game they’ve been playing for years. They’re not picking up trash—they’re searching for treasure!”
I stood there, stunned. “You’re telling me that for months I thought they were being model citizens, and they’ve just been… playing a game?”
Grace nodded, still grinning. “Exactly! My dad started it when they were little to keep them entertained. He hides coins—quarters, dimes, sometimes even a dollar bill—and they spend the morning hunting for them.”
I stared at her, jaw slack. “So all this time, I thought they were the most responsible kids in the neighborhood, and they were just hunting for coins?”
Grace chuckled, nodding. “Yep, that’s pretty much it.”
I leaned against the fence, letting out a long sigh before laughing along with her. “Well, I’ll be! I thought they were out here doing their civic duty, and instead, they were playing pirates!”
Grace laughed even harder. “Sorry for the confusion! I guess it does look like they’re cleaning up, but trust me, they’re just in it for the treasure.”
I pulled the handful of coins from my pocket, holding them up. “And this? This is the grand prize I’ve collected all afternoon!”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Oh no, you found their stash!”
“I couldn’t help myself,” I admitted, still laughing. “I saw them hiding something, and my curiosity got the best of me. I thought they were up to no good!”
“Don’t worry,” Grace said with a grin. “I’ll tell them where their treasure went. They’ll think it’s hilarious.”
As we stood there, the laughter between us faded into a comfortable silence. Grace then asked, “So, what did you think they were doing, really?”
I shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Honestly? I thought they were cleaning up the neighborhood, like some sort of community service project. I even complimented you on how thoughtful they were.”
Grace shook her head, still chuckling. “Well, in a way, they are. They’re keeping Grandpa entertained and getting some fresh air, right?”
“True enough,” I said. “But I’ve got to admit, you really had me going. I thought I was watching future city council members at work.”
Grace winked at me. “Who knows? Maybe they’re learning a bit of responsibility, even if it’s just for a few coins.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, smiling. “But next Sunday, I think I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show… treasure hunt and all.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Grace replied with a grin.
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