I do not like the word "neighborhood." It brings to mind memories of a weirdly smiling man holding tennis shoes, and evil deformed puppets. Aside from that, the word always seemed too bright and cheerful to me, maybe just a bit over-friendly. Living in what I think of as a neighborhood would frighten me – I'd worry constantly that a grinning stranger in a baseball cap would arrive and try to give me a Jell-O sculpture. No one seems to agree with me on this. Everything I've heard in class about other peoples' neighborhoods seems so communal and warm, worthy of film-commercial status: children frolicking harmoniously in the streets, barbecues and pool parties all summer. It is not like this where I live.

Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . . zrrrrrrmmmmmrrrrrr . . . FRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . . Good lord, not again. Time to put on the loud music. With a sigh, I get up from the computer. A wistful look at the window. But it's such a nice day... FWIRrrrrrrrrrr . . . I wade through the clothes and old newspapers mustered on the floor to the open window, and resentfully yank it shut. Ah, the joys of summer.

A muffled whir comes through the windowpane. Oh, this is too much. Somehow, I make it over to the CD player, and turn it on for at least the eleventh time that day. With a hateful glance out the window, I pull out my favorite recording of Swedish fiddle tunes. The guy on the moped outside does not seem the folkie type. I shall have my revenge.

With Spaken (or "the Lever") comfortably reverberating in the floorboards, I sit at my computer again. I was halfway through a summer writing assignment when I was interrupted, and now I've lost my thread. Curses. I lean forcefully back in my chair, nearly knocking it over. And suddenly, there comes through the closed window a sound more powerful than mopeds and a massed choir of Hardanger fiddles combined.

"Get off my scooter NOW!"
"I just wanna try it!-" A guilty sound of whirring wheels.
"GET OFF!"
"Sam, get off his scooter naaoow!" echoes a diminutively bossy female voice.
"No!" The thief seems to be trying to make his getaway.
"Gimme my SCOOTER!"

Get up, turn off the music, open the window again. Stick my head out into the metallically glinting light and blink like a surprised turtle. Three skinny, sunburnt little children glare at each other in the sizzling street.

"Caaaaaameron?" He squints frantically up at me.

"Kristin, Sam took my scooter! And he won't give it back!" Sam scuttles past, and Cameron swipes clumsily at him.

"Don't hit him, Cameron! Sam, please give Cam his scooter back. You can ride his skateboard."

"WHAT?" I give the lad my official Big Sister Staredown, only recently legalized in California. "Kristin..." whinges Cameron. "God!" Sam proffers the scooter like Cameron will lunge at him, as indeed he has been known to do. "Thank you," says Cameron with bitter sarcasm, and clumps into the garage for the skateboard. I withdraw my head into my room. The computer has gone into screensaver mode in the meantime, sending busily exploding shapes across the monitor. Swatting at the mouse, I collapse sideways into my chair, poise my hands over the keyboard, and dejectedly hit all of the keys at once. A stream of gibberish floods my so recently pristine essay. Can't think what I was going to say before... lost... so lost... No. Oh no. Not that.

Whirrrrrrrrrr.

This is the end. I can no longer take it.

The sinister hum of the vacuum filters through the house, coming closer and closer. In the hallway now. Up the stairs... up the stairs.

Within mere seconds, I am outside, carrying a bottle of water and my notebook in a green canvas bag. As I walk past the screeching children brawling in the road, I look furtively over my shoulder. It was a near miss. There's a hiking trail nearby – if I hurry, I should be able to make it deep into the woods before suspicion arises. Oh no. My mom has opened the door to my room. Out of the still-open window, I hear, "Kristin? Time to vacuum your room... Kris?" As I break into a run, I begin to sing to myself.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor...