That Love Your Neighbor Thing

By Suzanne D. Williams

How exactly had he ended up here, in the pool with the neighbor girl, talking about love? And why when she looked at him like that did he feel ... funny?

Remington Saddler is hanging around with the wrong kids in the neighborhood. His parents argue all the time, and he feels ignored. So what's a little harmless fun if it takes his mind off his problems? Then he's caught in the act of vandalizing the neighbor's lawn, and, forced to clean up the mess, he runs into the owner's daughter. Literally.

Shylar Raymond aggravates him at first. Plus, she has funny ideas about being kind to others. Yet, the more he hangs around her, the more he learns she's right, and maybe … just maybe … he has the best neighbor of all.

A sweet middle-grade young adult romance from best-selling author, SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS. Heroes girls can dream of and parents can trust.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
• Release date: Jun 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513066073

Suzanne D. Williams

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

Book preview

And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these (Mk 12:30-31).

CHAPTER 1

A rap on the window brought his attention around to the flattened faces of his friends on the other side of the glass. A misted circle forming from their heated breath, one of them motioned upward, and he obliged, pressing one finger vertically to his lips. The hissed whisper of another of the five boys gathered on the lawn crept into his bedroom. Javon Ohr, an okay kid, if a bit too inclined to sneak out at night.

You got the stuff? Javon asked.

Crickets called from deep in the grass, and somewhere in the distance a dog barked.

Giving a nod, he reached behind him for a plastic grocery sack filled with two packs of toilet paper and a carton of eggs.

Take this, he said, handing the bag through the opening. The bag left his grasp, and he leapt over the sill into the flowerbed with everyone else. He pushed the window down with one hand, leaving just enough space to sneak back in, then faced into the circle of boys surrounding him.

Go. Quick, he said.

Crouched low, laughter bubbling from their throats, they dashed across the summer grass, over the sidewalk, and into the street. Angling themselves to the right, they moved up on the other side into the yard of tonight’s victim.

You throw the eggs, he said, nodding toward Javon. The rest of us will do the paper ... and get it high. He pointed upward at the oak tree growing alongside the street. We want it everywhere.

Splitting up, the boys set to work at their separate tasks, the darkness of a moonless night giving them perfect concealment. Tossing rolls of toilet paper up and over tree branches, they coated the lawn and the bushes along the walk as well, making a strange fairyland out of his neighbor’s ordinary back yard.

Javon assumed a baseball pitching position. An egg cupped in his palm, he hauled his arm backward and tossed an egg at the house. It smacked the side, cracking and sliding yellow and slimy down the glossy white paint.

Oh, man, this is gonna be sweet, he said.

He grasped another egg and wound up his pitch this time, determined to throw it harder. However, his aim too far left, the egg sailed high and hit the window glass instead.

A light flicked on inside, and he froze. Run, he shouted. They’re up.

Chaos ensued. Desperate to not get caught, the boys dropped their things where they stood and scampered in different directions. He did the same, leaving a roll of toilet paper where he stood. But in crossing the sidewalk, the toe of his shoe caught the edge, and he fell forward, landing on his hands. The sting of his fall combined with the scrape of the pavement on his skin brought a hiss from his lips and, seconds later, a squawk as a strong, male arm lifted him to his feet.

Remington Saddler, the homeowner spoke. I know you didn’t do this alone, so how about you tell me who all was involved? His grip tight, he turned him around.

Carlton Raymond was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered, six-foot-two or so. He was also angry a lot, forever yelling at him and his friends to stay out of his grass. That had singled him out for tonight’s adventure.

The front porch light flipped on, and a woman wrapped in a floral robe emerged. His wife. Behind her two girls’ faces appeared, one in her mid-teens, the other, younger.

Remington scowled. He wouldn’t rat on his friends. Nobody, he said, defiant.

Nobody, huh? I’m betting it was some of those hoodlums you’ve been trailing after, Mr. Raymond said. I thought your mom told you to stay away from those boys?

She had, but he’d ignored her. And what was the harm in having a little fun now and then anyway?

I see. Well, I think you and me will just walk you on home and explain this to your mother.

Panic set in then. Twisting in Mr. Raymond’s grasp, Remington tried to free himself. I’m sorry, Mr. Raymond. It was just a joke. I’ll ... I’ll clean it up.

No sooner had the words left his lips than Mr. Raymond started walking toward the street, dragging him along at his side. You’re right, he said, firmly. You will. I’m sure your mother will agree with that.

His mom. His mom would be furious. He’d