[Alex’s POV - 16 years old - A few days after the move]

This town is too loud.

People move in every direction, a human river that flows without pause. A car horn blares, a delivery truck grumbles past, someone on the sidewalk shouts into his phone and the air is pungent with a mixture of freshly baked bread and exhaust fumes.

It’s nothing like home.

Back there, you can hear your own footsteps on the pavement, the wind rustling the trees. Here, everything blends into a persistent drumming of noise.

I glance up at my dad. He walks a few paces ahead of me with a couple of high-end shopping bags in each hand, his long strides confident, like he has already mapped out the entire town in his head. Knowing him, he probably has.

He looks totally unfazed by it all, like he belongs here.

Me? I’m sticking out like a sore thumb.

Today, three days after our big move, my dad announced decisively that we were going shopping together. It didn’t surprise me much. We’d been cooped up inside for the past two days, unpacking, organising, settling into the new house. And I’ve heard him mutter before how “those damned movers” made a box of his clothes disappear. I thought my dad had simply not found it yet. I guess he really did miss a box of clothes if he’s dragging me out of the still unfamiliar house to an even less familiar shopping district.

I glance at the shops we pass—clothing stores, a bakery, a tiny bookstore. It’s all neat and organized, but I feel like there’s too much going on. Too many buildings cramped in a row. I’m used to knowing everyone I pass on the street, waving hello to Mrs. Carter as she waters her garden or Mr. Jenkins as he works on his car.

It’s what I grew up with.

Here? It’s just strangers.

As our walk back home progresses, the busy shopping street merges into a calmer living area, and then turns into a nearly deserted dirt road lined by trees.

“Would you look at that, Dad! I was starting to think that there wasn’t a single tree in this town, but it looks like they grouped them all together along this road!” I joke. My dad huffs a laugh and frowns at me over his shoulder, undoubtedly wondering how serious I am.

“That’s what people call a park, Alex,” he says, half joking, half serious. I stop in my step.

“Wait… Does that mean we’re near a park now?” I ask, my surprise genuine.

“Yes,” Dad chuckles as he stops walking too and turns to look at me. “This dirt road is actually a shortcut at the edge of the park to get to our neighbourhood faster.”

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

“Can I go check it out?” I sound excited and hopeful even to my own ears.

“Of course you can. But be home in time for dinner,” my dad says with a smile. His smile looks a little awkward. That must be my imagination. I can’t imagine why my dad would feel awkward after mentioning the local park.

“Thanks dad!” I say before scurrying off. At first I make sure to simply walk fast, but once I’m sure that my dad can’t see me any longer, I start to run.

I quickly discover that this park is big. Very big! I had noticed earlier that there were enough trees to obscure the rest of the park from view, which gave me hope for more than just a grass plain surrounded by trees, but the actual thing is SO much better! I gasp as I take it all in.

The park consists of three large grass plains, one accentuated by a relatively large duck pond and a large oak tree. A cozy stream winds its way toward the pond, dividing the two other grassy fields. Thick strips of trees act as natural dividers between these fields and surround the entire park.

I shut my eyes as a warm summer breeze blows in my face and makes my hair flutter.

For a moment, my brain tricks me into thinking that I am home again.

I stay there for a moment longer, enjoying the feeling of the breeze, listening to the leaves rustle and notice that the nauseating smell of car exhausts is much thinner here.

When I open my eyes again, I feel a grin spread onto my face and I start walking again. I wander past the playground and the gravel paths, past the benches and carefully trimmed bushes, until I am standing right in front of the massive oak tree near the duck pond that I had spotted earlier. The whole park is filled with beautiful, large trees, but this one is downright impressive! Its bark must be at least two meters in diameter and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was more than fifteen meters tall.

I look up in the foliage, reach out to one of the lowest branches and test it for my weight. The tree doesn’t give an inch. I grin. Perfect! The tree is sturdy and strong.

Before I know it, I have climbed three meters into the tree and pause to brush away some sticky bits of moss that cling to my palm. I take in the nearest parts of the tree around me; Algae clings to the branches and small young twigs grow everywhere.

Nobody has climbed this tree in a long time. It is too wild, too overgrown. This kind of tree would be too much for a beginner. But luckily for me I’ve been climbing trees for a long time.

It doesn’t take me long to reach the top.

The view is absolutely amazing: the ducks on the pond look like miniature toys, as do the people walking on the gravel paths. In the distance, I recognise some of the narrow buildings of the shopping district and can’t help but laugh when the cars that were so noise from up close, look like children’s toys gliding by soundlessly.

I lean back against the trunk and settle into a comfortable crook between two branches. I breathe in deeply. The air is cooler up here, cleaner. Up here, it’s just me, the wind and the quiet rustle of leaves.

This is where I belong.

For the first time in three days, I feel calm. Like this town might be able to become my home. Yet, I feel an inkling of doubt when the wind blows the faint tang of exhaust fumes my way. I can still hear the drumming noise of the shopping district too, although it is very distant.

I look down when the drumming noise is overpowered by the sound of steps on the gravel paths below. It is an older man walking his dog. He doesn’t look up, doesn’t notice me.

I feel the right corner of my mouth pull up in a lazy, relaxed smile.

I’m too sensitive. I need to give this town a chance. But for now, I’ll revel in the thrilling feeling of freedom this height brings with it and only head back down when my dad calls my phone to inform me that dinner is ready.