For months, I thought I’d hit the jackpot with my neighbor’s kids—two teens who seemed to spend every Sunday morning cleaning up the street, like little public servants in training. But then, one day, I saw one of them hiding something under a bush, and I realized their so-called “good deeds” weren’t quite what they seemed.
As a woman in my 60s, I’ve seen a lot in this neighborhood—the good, the bad, and everything in between. But seeing these teens, just out of middle school, dedicating their weekends to tidying up the streets? It gave me a spark of hope for the younger generation.
Every Sunday, I’d sit by my window with a cup of tea, watching them sweep the sidewalks and haul away trash bags. They reminded me of my own kids when they were younger, before they grew up and left the nest. I admired their hard work.
One morning, I saw their mom, Grace, hurrying out of her house, probably late for work. I couldn’t help but call out to her. “Grace! Your kids are doing a wonderful job cleaning up the street! You must be so proud!”
She stopped and looked at me with a strange expression, almost like I’d said something odd. Then she forced a polite smile. “Oh, yeah… thanks. They’re good kids.”
Her tone seemed off, but I brushed it aside, thinking she was just in a hurry.
Weeks went by, and I kept watching Becky and Sam—yes, I think those were their names—hard at work every Sunday. Once, I even offered them lemonade, but they politely declined, saying they had to “finish up.” I thought how mature and responsible they were for their age.
Then, last Sunday, everything changed. As I watched from my usual spot, I noticed something strange. Sam wasn’t just picking up trash—he was crouched near the big oak tree in front of my house, sweeping leaves aside, and carefully tucking something under a bush.
I squinted, trying to see what it was, but I couldn’t make it out. It didn’t look like trash, though. He was acting secretive, glancing over his shoulder before moving on. My curiosity was piqued.
Once they finished and disappeared around the corner, I decided to investigate. I slipped on my gardening gloves and shuffled outside. The breeze played with my hair as I bent down near the oak tree, pushing aside the leaves Sam had carefully arranged.
There it was—a small stash of loose change. Quarters, dimes, and even a few shiny pennies. Confused, I stood up and looked around. Intrigued, I began checking other spots along the sidewalk, and sure enough, I found more coins hidden behind street signs, between bricks, and even near the storm drain.
By the time I was done, I had nearly five dollars in change! But why were they hiding money instead of picking up trash?
That afternoon, I spotted Grace unloading groceries from her car and seized the chance to solve this mystery. I walked over, the coins jangling in my pocket.
“Grace!” I called, waving her over.
She looked up, a bit surprised but smiling. “Hey! Everything alright?”
I chuckled, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, I just wanted to mention again how thoughtful your kids are, cleaning up the street every week.”
Grace furrowed her brow, looking genuinely puzzled. “Cleaning up the street? What do you mean?”
I blinked, taken aback. “You know, they’re out there every Sunday, sweeping up and picking up trash. I watch them from my window all the time!”
For a moment, she looked completely confused. Then realization hit her, and she burst into laughter. “Oh, no, no, no! They’re not cleaning!”
I stared at her, baffled. “Wait, what?”
“They’re on a treasure hunt!” she said, still giggling. “Their grandpa hides coins around the neighborhood for them to find every Sunday. It’s a game they’ve been playing for years. They’re not picking up trash—they’re searching for treasure!”
I stood there, stunned. “A treasure hunt? So for months, I thought they were being model citizens cleaning up the neighborhood, and they were just playing a game?”
Grace nodded, still grinning. “Exactly! My dad started it when they were little to keep them entertained. He hides coins—quarters, dimes, sometimes even a dollar—and they spend the morning hunting for them.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I’ll be! Here I was thinking I was watching the most responsible teens on the block, and all along, they were just playing pirates!”
Grace joined in my laughter. “Sorry for the mix-up! I guess it does look like they’re cleaning, but trust me, it’s all about the treasure.”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out the handful of coins I’d collected. “And this? This is the grand prize I found under the bushes today!”
Grace gasped. “Oh no, you found their loot!”
“I couldn’t help myself,” I admitted, chuckling again. “I saw them hiding something and thought they were up to something sneaky.”
Grace waved it off with a grin. “No worries. I’ll let them know where their treasure went. They’ll get a kick out of it!”
We stood there for a moment, still giggling. Then Grace asked, “So, what did you think they were doing all this time?”
Embarrassed but still smiling, I shrugged. “Honestly? I thought they were being good Samaritans, doing some kind of community service. I even complimented you on raising such responsible kids!”
Grace shook her head, still laughing. “Well, in a way, I guess they are. They’re keeping Grandpa entertained, and they’re getting fresh air, right?”
“True,” I said with a smile. “But next Sunday, I think I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show… treasure hunt and all.”
Grace winked. “Sounds like a plan.”
