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Description
       We pulled up to the apartment complex well after nine. My mom, earlier that afternoon, had moved in most of the second hand furniture that would fill the walls of our temporary home. Three of my mom's brothers had been happy to help; my grandmother had recently passed and the house she raised eight children in had heaps of furniture that no one was enthusiastic about parting with. The timing was nothing short of predominant.
       My older brother, younger sister and I had our duffle bags packed. It was our first weekend in the new apartment, and somehow, being children, we were excited. It was much better than the hotel, where for the past few months we had spent four nights a week, adjusting to the divorce.
       We had grown up playing with the neighborhood kids, and felt vulnerable in the huge complex. Since we knew no one else, my brother and I searched the area together. We found our mailbox, the pool, the gym. We climbed to the top of the highest hill and tried to point out the roof of our house, our dad's house.
       It wasn't long before mom called us in, it was too late for an eleven and a thirteen year old to be wandering around the new location, she told us. We sprinted down the hill and up the cement roadway to our building in a way only kids can run. We had to unpack the clothing we had brought and load it into our dressers. Because of the tight space, Scott and I had to share a bedroom, which also doubled as the computer room. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed by this, but I was optimistic. He was my favorite person in the whole world. And that, in combination with my incomprehensible need to please people, meant I would do anything he asked me to. I had always looked up to his rebellious behavior and now more than ever I was sure I would take part in some of his adventures.
       My mom came in to kiss us goodnight, tucking us under the covers from shoulder to toe, something she still does when I stay at her house over the holidays. Heading for her own room, she closed our door and sealed in an emptiness and silence that felt heavy. I spent a few minutes panicking. Every time I moved the bed creaked, the sheets smelled like my cousins from Texas, and the wallpaper, brown with a floral design that appeared to be the result of a Victorian pattern and a trippy 70s design mating, was stained due to the previous resident's smoking habit. The glow from the computer seemed to only heighten the flaws of the room.
       I was silently telling myself to accept this new environment when I heard a loud creak from the bed beside mine. Scott had jumped up, and was throwing things into his backpack. Some string, a soccer ball, old sheets, paper, markers, tape. I sat upright but didn't utter a word. He zipped his navy Jansport, threw it on his back, and headed towards the window. He unlocked and opened it, and popped the screen out, as if he had done it a hundred times before. As he was sliding the screen under his bed, he met my eyes.
       Are you coming?
       I slid my shoes on without bothering to retie them and followed him out of our window, I had never snuck out before. Keeping as low to the ground as we could we ran  behind our building and towards some trees. We didn't stop running until we were well into the woods. Scott kept a quick pace, and kept scanning the surroundings as if looking for something. He stopped abruptly and started digging in his backpack. He grabbed a roll of string for himself and tossed one to me.
       Tie the string around a few trees to make yourself a room.
       I smiled, and did as told, making a trapezoid shape with four trees.
       When the string is sturdy, throw the sheets over it to make walls.
       He told me that this way, if we ever needed to be alone, we had our own rooms. But that they were still right next to each other, just in case. We would spend the next few nights decorating.
       After hanging all of our walls in place, Scott again grabbed his backpack and continued further away from our mother's apartment. Less than a hundred feet from our new bedrooms we met the edge of the woods. Squeezed between lines of evergreens we found a metal fence. On the other side, was our paradise. Soccer fields, sand volleyball courts, a playground, swings. Scott climbed over first, and I followed.

Description
       We pulled up to the apartment complex well after nine. My mom, earlier that afternoon, had moved in most of the second hand furniture that would fill the walls of our temporary home. Three of my mom's brothers had been happy to help; my grandmother had recently passed and the house she raised eight children in had heaps of furniture that no one was enthusiastic about parting with. The timing was nothing short of predominant.
       My older brother, younger sister and I had our duffle bags packed. It was our first weekend in the new apartment, and somehow, being children, we were excited. It was much better than the hotel, where for the past few months we had spent four nights a week, adjusting to the divorce.
       We had grown up playing with the neighborhood kids, and felt vulnerable in the huge complex. Since we knew no one else, my brother and I searched the area together. We found our mailbox, the pool, the gym. We climbed to the top of the highest hill and tried to point out the roof of our house, our dad's house.
       It wasn't long before mom called us in, it was too late for an eleven and a thirteen year old to be wandering around the new location, she told us. We sprinted down the hill and up the cement roadway to our building in a way only kids can run. We had to unpack the clothing we had brought and load it into our dressers. Because of the tight space, Scott and I had to share a bedroom, which also doubled as the computer room. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed by this, but I was optimistic. He was my favorite person in the whole world. And that, in combination with my incomprehensible need to please people, meant I would do anything he asked me to. I had always looked up to his rebellious behavior and now more than ever I was sure I would take part in some of his adventures.
       My mom came in to kiss us goodnight, tucking us under the covers from shoulder to toe, something she still does when I stay at her house over the holidays. Heading for her own room, she closed our door and sealed in an emptiness and silence that felt heavy. I spent a few minutes panicking. Every time I moved the bed creaked, the sheets smelled like my cousins from Texas, and the wallpaper, brown with a floral design that appeared to be the result of a Victorian pattern and a trippy 70s design mating, was stained due to the previous resident's smoking habit. The glow from the computer seemed to only heighten the flaws of the room.
       I was silently telling myself to accept this new environment when I heard a loud creak from the bed beside mine. Scott had jumped up, and was throwing things into his backpack. Some string, a soccer ball, old sheets, paper, markers, tape. I sat upright but didn't utter a word. He zipped his navy Jansport, threw it on his back, and headed towards the window. He unlocked and opened it, and popped the screen out, as if he had done it a hundred times before. As he was sliding the screen under his bed, he met my eyes.
       Are you coming?
       I slid my shoes on without bothering to retie them and followed him out of our window, I had never snuck out before. Keeping as low to the ground as we could we ran  behind our building and towards some trees. We didn't stop running until we were well into the woods. Scott kept a quick pace, and kept scanning the surroundings as if looking for something. He stopped abruptly and started digging in his backpack. He grabbed a roll of string for himself and tossed one to me.
       Tie the string around a few trees to make yourself a room.
       I smiled, and did as told, making a trapezoid shape with four trees.
       When the string is sturdy, throw the sheets over it to make walls.
       He told me that this way, if we ever needed to be alone, we had our own rooms. But that they were still right next to each other, just in case. We would spend the next few nights decorating.
       After hanging all of our walls in place, Scott again grabbed his backpack and continued further away from our mother's apartment. Less than a hundred feet from our new bedrooms we met the edge of the woods. Squeezed between lines of evergreens we found a metal fence. On the other side, was our paradise. Soccer fields, sand volleyball courts, a playground, swings. Scott climbed over first, and I followed.