For months, I thought I’d struck gold with my neighbor’s kids—two teens who cleaned up the street every Sunday like they were campaigning for mayor. But when I caught one of them hiding something under a bush, I realized their “good deeds” weren’t what they seemed.
As a woman in my 60s, I’ve seen it all in this neighborhood. The good, the bad, and everything in between. But watching two teenagers, barely out of middle school, sweeping sidewalks and picking up trash every weekend? That gave me hope for the younger generation.
Every Sunday morning, I’d sit by my window with my tea, watching them work. They pushed brooms, hauled trash bags, and made the street look spotless. I was impressed.
They reminded me of my own kids when they were young—before they grew up and moved away. It was almost… inspiring.
One morning, while watering my plants, I saw their mom, Ellen, hurrying out of her house, probably off to work.
“Ellen!” I called, waving. “Your kids are doing a great job cleaning up the street. You must be so proud!”
Ellen paused, giving me a strange look—like I’d said something odd. But then she smiled politely. “Oh, yeah… thanks. They’re… good kids.”
Something in her tone felt off, but I let it go. I figured she was just rushed, maybe late for work.
Over the weeks, I kept watching them—Lila and Tim, I think their names were—out there every Sunday, working harder than most kids their age.
I offered them lemonade once, but they politely said no, explaining they had “stuff to finish.” I thought they were so mature for their age.
Last Sunday, something weird happened. It was their usual routine—Lila and Tim were out there, heads down, moving along the street. I was watching from my window when I noticed something strange.
Tim wasn’t just picking up trash. He was crouching near the big oak tree by my house, brushing leaves aside, and carefully placing something under a bush.
I squinted, trying to see better, but I couldn’t tell what it was. It didn’t look like trash. He seemed sneaky about it, glancing around before standing up and moving to the next house.
I frowned, my curiosity kicking in. Why was he hiding something under a bush?
I decided to wait until they were done. I wasn’t letting this slide. After 30 years in this neighborhood, I know when something feels wrong, and this definitely did.
Once the kids were out of sight, I put on my gardening gloves and headed outside. The cool breeze brushed my hair as I walked to the bush.
I bent down, pushing aside the same pile of leaves Tim had. My heart beat a bit faster—there’s something exciting about solving a mystery, even at my age.
And there it was.
Coins. Loose change, tucked under the leaves. Quarters, dimes, a few shiny pennies. I frowned, my mind racing. Why were they hiding money like this?
I stood up, looking around. Now that I knew what to look for, I couldn’t stop. I checked under more bushes, moved stones, peeked into cracks along the sidewalk. More coins.
Hidden by the street sign, stuffed between curb bricks, even stashed near the storm drain. It wasn’t just a little change either. By the time I finished, I’d collected nearly five dollars.
“Why would they hide money instead of picking up trash?” I muttered, pacing the sidewalk.
I stood there, staring at the coins in my hand, my head spinning with possibilities. Were they up to something? Hiding money for someone else?
Later that afternoon, I saw Ellen again, unloading groceries from her car.
This was my chance to figure out what her kids were doing. I walked across the street, coins jingling in my pocket.
“Ellen!” I called, waving her over.
She looked up, surprised, but smiled. “Hey, everything okay?”
I chuckled, trying to keep it light, though I was dying to ask. “Yeah, I just wanted to say again how great your kids are, you know… cleaning the street every week.”
Ellen’s brow furrowed, looking genuinely confused. “Cleaning the street? What do you mean?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You know, every Sunday, they’re out there picking up trash, sweeping… I see them from my window.”
For a moment, she looked puzzled, then burst into laughter, holding her sides. “Oh, no, no, they’re not cleaning!”
Now I was confused. “Wait, what?”
“They’re on a treasure hunt!” she said, still laughing, wiping a tear from her eye. “Their grandpa hides coins around the neighborhood for them every Sunday. It’s a game they’ve played for years. They’re not picking up trash—they’re hunting for treasure!”
I stood there, stunned, trying to take it in. “A treasure hunt? You’re saying I thought they were model citizens cleaning the street for months, and they’ve just been… playing a game?”
Ellen grinned and nodded. “Exactly. My dad started it when they were little to keep them busy on Sundays. He hides coins—quarters, dimes, sometimes a dollar bill—and they spend the morning searching.”
I stared at her, my mouth open. “So… I’ve been watching them, thinking they’re the most responsible kids around, and they’re just hunting for coins?”
Ellen nodded, still smiling. “Yep, that’s it.”
I leaned against the fence, letting out a long sigh, and then… I laughed. I laughed so hard I nearly doubled over. “Well, I’ll be darned! I thought they were perfect little neighborhood heroes, doing their civic duty, and they’re just playing pirates!”
Ellen joined in, her laughter echoing down the quiet street. “Yeah, sorry for the mix-up! I guess it does look like they’re cleaning, but they’re just in it for the treasure.”
Shaking my head, I pulled the coins from my pocket and held them up. “And this? This is the grand prize I’ve been collecting all afternoon!”
Ellen’s eyes widened. “Oh no, you found their stash!”
“I couldn’t help it,” I admitted, laughing again. “I saw them hiding stuff, and I got too curious. I thought they were up to something shady!”
Ellen waved a hand, still grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell them where their treasure went. They’ll think it’s hilarious.”
We stood there, chuckling together, the air light and easy. Then Ellen gave me a curious look. “So, what did you think they were doing? Really?”
I shrugged, a bit embarrassed but smiling. “Honestly? I thought they were cleaning up the neighborhood to be nice. Like some kind of community service project.” I paused, grinning sheepishly. “I even bragged to you about how thoughtful they were.”
Ellen laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, in a way, they are. They’re keeping Grandpa entertained, and they’re outside getting fresh air, right?”
“True enough,” I said, still chuckling. “But I’ve got to admit, you fooled me. I really thought I was watching future town leaders at work.”
Ellen smiled warmly. “Who knows?” she said. “Maybe they’re learning a bit of responsibility after all. Even if it’s just for a few coins.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But next Sunday, I think I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show… treasure hunt and all.”
Ellen winked. “Sounds like a plan.”
