At the end of the street, there was a house nobody ever went into. The paint was peeling, and the door was painted a bright yellow.
Lulie and Nini stopped walking and stared down the street. Nini tugged Lulie's sleeve. Let's go see what's inside.
They marched right up to the yellow door and pushed. It didn't budge. Let's try the other side, Nini said.
They walked around the house together, their shoes crunching on dry leaves. Nini pointed at a window — blue curtains were waving all by themselves.
They climbed through the window and landed with a soft thump on a wooden floor. Dust floated in a golden beam of sunlight. Lulie found a rusty key under a stack of old newspapers.
They stepped into the backyard and gasp. A treehouse sat in the biggest oak tree, built from mismatched boards and painted with stars.
They climbed the rickety ladder and pushed open a tiny door. Inside, a small wooden box sat on the windowsill.
Nini opened the box. Inside was a faded crayon drawing of two girls holding hands. Written below in wobbly letters: For my best friend.
They ran back and hung a brand-new drawing on the fence between their houses. It showed two girls standing in front of a bright yellow house.
Nini squeezed Lulie's hand. The empty house at the end of the street no longer felt empty at all.