“I just wanted to help,” I said softly, feeling a lump in my throat. The mother didn’t respond. She picked up her daughter and hurried away, leaving the bike behind. I stood there, confused and hurt. I noticed one of the neighbors, Jules, walking her dog near my house. She had seen the whole thing. Jules was a peculiar woman. She always wore long skirts, and her eyes were painted with blue eyeshadow, her lips bright with pink lipstick. She was staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “Good afternoon, Jules,” I called out, trying to sound cheerful.She didn’t reply. Instead, she clutched the leash of her small dog and quickly crossed to the other side of the road, muttering to herself. “Why is everyone so unfriendly?”
I whispered to myself. “Is it something I did?” Back inside my house, I sat by the window, looking out at the empty street. “Maybe they think I’m weird or something,” I murmured, trying to make sense of it all. “But they don’t even know me.” I picked up my journal and started writing. “Day three in the new house. The neighbors are still avoiding me. Why are they treating me likе this? I just want to fit in.” Humming to myself, I closed the journal and looked around my empty living room. The house felt big and lonely. I walked on tiptoes to the kitchen, a habit of mine when I was nervous. I made myself a cup of tea and sat back down by the window, watching for any signs of friendliness.“Maybe tomorrow will be different,” I said aloud, trying to stay hopeful. But deep down, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was very wrong. Feeling lonely and unwanted, I decided to change the situation. I couldn’t just sit around hoping things would get better on their own. So, I decided to throw a party. “Maybe they just need a chance to get to know me,” I thought. I spent the whole day preparing. I cooked up a storm—salads, sandwiches, cookies, you name it. I even decorated the yard with fairy lights and colorful paper lanterns, hoping to create a warm and inviting atmosphere. As evening fell, I set up a table in the yard, arranging all the dishes neatly. I put on my favorite pink dress and tied a scarf around my wrist, humming a little tune to keep my spirits up. “This will be great,” I told myself, trying to stay positive.The clock struck six, the time I had mentioned in the invitations I had slipped into each neighbor’s mailbox. I waited, excitement and nerves battling inside me. But as the minutes ticked by, my excitement turned into anxiety. An hour passed. Then another. The food lay untouched, the lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, and my heart sank. No one came. Not a single person. Feeling despairing and close to tears, I began clearing the dishes. “What did I do wrong?” I whispered to myself. Just as I was about to take the last tray inside, I heard a voice. “Hey, need some help?” I turned around to see Jacob standing at the…
