The house Nextdoor

Chapter two: The Oak tree pact

Two months after the bicycle race that had changed everything, Sophia Morgan had come to a startling realization.

Zayn Mitchel was impossible. Not occasionally or sometimes, but always completely and undeniably impossible.

The realization came on a warm Saturday afternoon while Sophia sat on one of the low branches of the old oak tree behind her house.

The tree was ancient.

Nobody knew exactly how old it was, but Sophia’s father claimed it had been standing long before any of the houses on their street were built. Its thick trunk required three adults holding hands to wrap around it, and its sprawling branches stretched across half the backyard like the arms of a sleeping giant.

To Sophia, it was the best place in the world. Even after their little clubhouse fell apart, the tree stood tall.

When she climbed onto its branches, she could see over the neighborhood fences. She could watch birds building nests. She could read in peace.

Or at least she could have read in peace if Zayn Mitchel hadn’t decided it was his favorite place too.

A small acorn bounced off her shoulder.

Sophia frowned.

Another acorn followed.

Then another.

She slowly lowered her book and placed her right hand on her forehead.

“You’re not funny.”

A familiar laugh echoed from above her.

Sophia looked up and there he was.

Perched on a branch several feet higher than hers, grinning like he’d just invented comedy itself.

His dark hair stuck out in every direction. One shoelace was untied and there was dirt on his cheek. But somehow he looked entirely pleased with himself.

“You looked too serious,” he said.

“I was reading.” said Sophia.

“Exactly.” Zayn declared. Like that alone made his point abundantly clear.

Sophia scrunched up her eyebrows.

“Books are for reading, reading makes you look serious, serious people are boring people,” Zayn tried to explain.

Sophia gasped dramatically.

“Take that back.”

“No, why should I?” Zayn asked.

“That's not nice, take it back,” Sophia insisted.

“Nope.” Zayn said. Making sure to pop the “p”

Sophia grabbed an acorn and threw it.

It missed.

Zayn laughed harder.

Sophia rolled her eyes dramatically.

“You know,” she said, “normal people say hello.”

“Normal people are boring.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet you keep talking to me.”

She threw another acorn.

This one bounced off his knee.

His eyes widened.

“Oh, so we’re fighting now?”

“We’re not fighting,” said Sophia.

“You threw an acorn at me,” he replied.

“You started it!” Sophia exclaimed.

“That’s not important,” he declared.

Sophia rolled her eyes.

Everything with Zayn eventually turned into an argument.

Strangely, she no longer minded.

Not as much, anyway.

The truth was that they’d slowly somehow fallen into an unexpected friendship.

Every day after school they found themselves together.

Sometimes they explored the creek behind the neighborhood.

Sometimes they played catch with the other kids. Sometimes they simply sat beneath the oak tree and talked about absolutely nothing.

Neither would have admitted how much they enjoyed it. Especially not to each other.

Below them, Mrs. Morgan stepped onto the back porch.

“Sophia!” she yelled.

“Yes, Mom?” Sophia answered.

“We have company tonight!” Her mother yelled.

Sophia’s face brightened.

“Really?!” she exclaimed.

Her mother smiled.

“The Mitchell’s are coming for dinner.”

Zayn leaned forward from his branch.

“Does that mean your dad is making burgers?” he asked. Mouth almost watering.

Mrs. Morgan laughed.

“Maybe,” Sophia replied.

“Definitely burgers,” Zayn announced confidently.

Sophia groaned.

“You only come over for the food.”

“Not true.” Zayn replied indignantly.

“Then why do you come over?” Sophia asked, eyebrows raised.

Zayn opened his mouth. Then closed it. A strange expression crossed his face.

Finally, he shrugged.

“I don’t know.”

For some reason, Sophia felt pleased by that answer.

Dinner at the Morgan house was always loud. The adults talked over one another. Mr. Morgan told terrible jokes, Mr & Mrs. Mitchel laughed at all of them anyway. Sophia and Zayn spent most of the evening trying to kick each other under the table without getting caught.

Unfortunately for Sophia, Zayn was very good at this game. She yelped when his shoe connected with her ankle.

Mrs. Morgan looked up and asked, “Everything alright?”

“Fine,” Sophia muttered.

Across the table, Zayn looked suspiciously innocent.

Sophia narrowed her eyes.

This meant war.

⸻

Three days later, war officially arrived.

The annual Summer Festival was announced at school.

Every year the neighborhood hosts games, food stalls, and a talent showcase for local children.

Mrs. Ramirez, their teacher, stood at the front of the classroom holding a clipboard.

“This year,” she said, “everyone will work in pairs.”

The class immediately erupted into excited chatter.

Mrs. Ramirez smiled.

“Sophia Morgan and Zayn Mitchel,” she called.

The classroom burst into laughter.

Someone in the back shouted, “Good luck!”

Sophia dropped her pencil.

Beside her, Zayn looked equally horrified.

“Absolutely not.”

Mrs. Ramirez raised an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“We can’t work together,” Sophia protested.

“Why not?” the teacher asked.

“Because—” Sophia looked lost for words.

She glanced at Zayn.

He glanced back.

Neither could think of an acceptable answer.

The truth sounded ridiculous. Because they argued too much? Because they challenged each other constantly? Because every conversation somehow became a competition?

Mrs. Ramirez clearly wasn’t interested in hearing excuses. Excuses they clearly didn’t have.

“The pairings are final.”

Sophia sank into her chair looking slightly constipated.

Zayn groaned dramatically.

This was going to be a disaster.

⸻

For the next week, it was. Sophia wanted to perform a dramatic story. Zayn wanted to perform magic tricks.

Sophia insisted storytelling required intelligence. Zayn argued magic was more entertaining.

Sophia accused him of having the attention span of a squirrel. Zayn responded by making squirrel noises every time she spoke.

At one point she threatened to quit.

At another point, he threatened to quit first. Neither actually meant it. But neither would admit it.

Their arguments became so frequent that the other children started taking bets on who would storm away first.

One afternoon, after an especially frustrating rehearsal, Sophia climbed onto the oak tree and refused to come down.

Ten minutes later, Zayn appeared.

Without saying a word, he climbed onto the branch opposite hers.

Sophia ignored him.

He ignored her.

Fifteen minutes passed, and the silence seemed like it was stretching to eternity.

Finally Zayn spoke.

“You’re still mad, aren’t you?” Came out more like a statement than a question.

“I’m not talking to you,” Sophia replied.

“So, yes.” Zayn breathed.

Sophia folded her arms.

“You never listen.” She sulked.

Zayn looked genuinely surprised.

“I listen, i do.”

“No, you don’t.” Sophia replied grimly.

“What am I not listening to?”

Sophia stared at him, then stormed away to the other side of the backyard, exasperated. Zayn looked on after her. He genuinely just wanted her to be happy.

⸻

A thunderstorm rolled in while Sophia was still sulking in the backyard. Dark clouds swallowed the sky. Rain began to fall.

Sophia squealed as rainwater wet her hair and splashed over her shoes.

“We should go inside!” She screamed towards Zayn.

“No!” Zayn shouted back.

His eyes were sparkling.

Before she could stop him, he ran into the middle of the yard and started dancing.

Sophia stared, her mouth gaping.

“Are you crazy?” she asked.

“Come on!” Zayn said, making silly faces.

“No, i’ll catch a cold” she said.

“You’re scared? Pukpuk chicken!” Zayn teased Sophia.

Her eyes narrowed.

Sophia hated challenges. Mostly because she could never resist them. With a dramatic sigh, she stepped into the rain.

The cold water drenched her hair instantly. For a moment she stood frozen.

Then she laughed, the type that comes from the belly.

Soon both children were racing through puddles, slipping in mud, and laughing so hard their stomachs hurt. Mrs Morgan stepped out to call them back in, saw how much fun they were having and decided to let them be.

When they finally collapsed beneath the oak tree, breathless and dripping wet, neither remembered what they had been arguing about.

⸻

“Maybe we could combine our ideas,” Sophia said quietly.

Zayn glanced at her and asked.

“You mean, I do magic whilst you tell a story around it?”

He considered it.

“That could actually work,” he said.

Sophia smiled and said.

“See? I have good ideas sometimes.”

“Don’t push it.” He nudged her.

She shoved his shoulder.

Neither noticed they were smiling.

⸻

The talent show arrived two weeks later, the community hall buzzed with excitement. Parents filled the seats, Children waited nervously backstage.

Sophia clutched her notes.

Zayn fidgeted with a deck of cards.

“What if we mess up?” she whispered.

“We won’t.” He said.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because you’re Sophia.” He replied with so much confidence. She frowned.

“That’s not an answer.” She whispered.

“It is to me.” He whispered back.

Somehow those words calmed her. When their names were called, they stepped onto the stage together. And for the first time, they weren’t competitors. They were a team.

Sophia told a story about a young explorer searching for hidden treasure. At key moments, Zayn performed small magic tricks that made the audience gasp and cheer. By the end, the entire hall erupted into applause.

They didn’t win first place. They came second.

Neither cared.

For the first time, they had created something together.

⸻

That evening, they climbed the oak tree once more. The sunset painted the sky in shades of gold and orange.

Sophia held the small silver ribbon they had received.

“Second place isn’t bad,” she said.

“It isn’t.” Zayn echoed.

She glanced at him.

“We make a decent team.” She smiled.

“A decent team?” He looked offended.

“We’re obviously amazing,” he corrected.

Sophia laughed.

“Fine. Amazing.”

Zayn extended his hand.

“A pact.”

“What kind of pact?” she asked.

“No matter how much we annoy each other…” Zayn said

“We annoy each other a lot,” Sophia interrupted.

“Exactly. No matter how much we annoy each other, we’ll always have each other’s backs,” Zayn continued.

Sophia studied him for a moment. Then shook his hand.

“Deal.”

Neither child realized how important that promise would become.

But beneath the branches of the old oak tree, with the last light of day fading around them, a friendship was quietly taking root—stronger than either of them knew.