Tresspassing
San Carlos seems like a boring place. It’s full of elderly people and young parents trying to keep their kids under control. As my friend Nick says, there are two types of kids in San Carlos: stoners and scholars. You either bust your ass to do well in school or just sit on your ass at home, hoping for some sort of entertainment will come your way. This mentality probably explains why nearly half of Nick’s friends are in Juvenile Hall right now. But this unique environment is also what keeps bringing me back to Nick’s house time after time. A few years back is when our trouble began. It was a fine summer day outside. It gets so hot in San Carlos that every day Nick and I would walk downtown to buy smoothies every morning to cool us off. He had a pool but we never thought about using it – there was something more appealing about walking down the streets of the town. It’s a big town, but was rarely full of people, and most of the buildings had such low roofs that you felt like you weren’t really in a city at all, you weren’t just a number. There were plenty of places for the kids to meet through out town – corner shops, parks, youth centers, malls – all kinds of things. We have these things back at home, but no one really seems to use them. Nick lived on pretty big estate on an even bigger hill. His grandfather had made a lot of money through agriculture using his three, now terribly rundown greenhouses located at the bottom of the property. Up above was his house, above that there was a pool, and at the peak of the hill was his grandmother’s house, where most of Nick’s family had been raised. But the rest of the property was covered with trees and grass – and there was a lot of it.