Ellie Pearson pressed her nose against the car window, watching identical houses blur past as her family’s station wagon wound through the streets of Levittown. The summer heat shimmered off the pavement, distorting the perfectly manicured lawns and cookie-cutter homes.
“Almost there, kiddo,” her father called from the driver’s seat. “You excited?”
Ellie mumbled a noncommittal response, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose. Excited wasn’t quite the word. Anxious, maybe. Terrified, definitely. She’d never been good at making friends, and now here she was, thrust into a new neighborhood in the middle of summer vacation when everyone else already had their social circles firmly established.
The car pulled into the driveway of their new home - a tidy Cape Cod with robin’s egg blue shutters. As her parents bustled about directing the movers, Ellie stood on the sidewalk, taking in her new surroundings. Kids on bicycles whizzed by, giving her curious glances. A group of girls about her age huddled on a nearby lawn, giggling and whispering. Ellie felt her face flush as she caught them staring at her wild mop of red curls.
“Why don’t you go introduce yourself?” her mother suggested gently, noticing Ellie’s discomfort.
Ellie shook her head vigorously. “I think I’ll just… go unpack my room,” she mumbled, darting inside with her box of books clutched to her chest like a shield.
Safe in her new bedroom, Ellie methodically arranged her prized collection of novels on the shelves. She lost herself in the familiar ritual, finding comfort in alphabetizing authors and grouping series together. A shout from outside startled her from her task.
“Incoming!”
Something small and hard pinged off her window. Ellie peered out cautiously to see a boy about her age standing on the sidewalk, waving enthusiastically. His hair was buzzed short in a military-style crew cut, and his face was a constellation of freckles.
“Hey new kid!” he called. “Come out and play!”
Ellie hesitated, torn between curiosity and the urge to hide. The boy’s friendly grin won out. She made her way outside, approaching him shyly.
“I’m Tommy,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Tommy Watkins. You just moved in, right?”
Ellie nodded, shaking his hand tentatively. “Ellie Pearson. We got here this morning.”
“Cool! Want to see my army?” Tommy held up a bucket overflowing with little green plastic soldiers.
Despite herself, Ellie felt a smile tugging at her lips. “You have a whole army?”
“Sure do! C’mon, I’ll show you the best spot for battles.”
Before she knew it, Ellie found herself following Tommy down the sidewalk. He chattered away, filling her in on all the neighborhood gossip.
“That’s where Old Man Jenkins lives - he yells if you step on his grass. And over there’s the Wilsons. They have a pool, but they never let anyone use it. Oh, and see that house?” Tommy lowered his voice dramatically, pointing to a small white bungalow set back from the street. “That’s where the witch lives.”
Ellie’s eyes widened. “A witch?”
Tommy nodded solemnly. “Mrs. Abernathy. Nobody ever sees her come out. Some kids say she eats neighborhood pets that wander into her yard.”
“That can’t be true,” Ellie protested, though she eyed the overgrown yard warily.
“Maybe, maybe not. But I wouldn’t let your cat out if I were you.”
They settled on a grassy patch near the curb, and Tommy dumped out his bucket of soldiers. Ellie was surprised to find herself having fun as they set up elaborate battle scenarios. Tommy had an impressive knowledge of military history and regaled her with tales of famous campaigns.
“My dad’s a colonel,” he explained proudly. “He’s stationed overseas right now.”
As the afternoon wore on, other neighborhood kids drifted over, curious about the new girl. To Ellie’s relief, Tommy’s easy acceptance seemed to smooth the way. By the time her mother called her in for dinner, Ellie had made more social connections than in the entire previous year at her old school.
“Looks like you had fun,” her mother observed as Ellie helped set the table.
Ellie nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
Over the next few weeks, Ellie and Tommy became nearly inseparable. They spent long summer days staging epic battles with Tommy’s ever-growing collection of toy soldiers. Ellie contributed her own flair for storytelling, weaving complex narratives around their plastic troops.
One sweltering afternoon found them sprawled in the shade of a large oak tree, surrounded by the detritus of their latest campaign.
“We should do a real mission,” Tommy declared suddenly, idly spinning the propeller on a toy plane.
Ellie looked up from the book she’d been reading. “What do you mean?”
“You know, like real soldiers. Recon, intelligence gathering, that kind of thing.”
Ellie’s brow furrowed. “On what?”
Tommy’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Mrs. Abernathy’s house.”
A thrill of excitement - and a touch of fear - ran through Ellie. “I don’t know, Tommy. What if we get in trouble?”
“We won’t! We’ll just watch from a distance, see if we can figure out what’s really going on in there. Don’t you want to know the truth?”
Ellie hesitated. Her natural caution warred with her curiosity - and if she was honest, her desire to impress Tommy. “Okay,” she said finally. “But we have to be careful.”
Tommy grinned triumphantly. “Of course! First rule of covert ops - don’t get caught.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon planning their “surveillance mission” with all the seriousness of seasoned operatives. Ellie insisted on creating detailed maps of the neighborhood, while Tommy contributed a pair of old binoculars liberated from his father’s study.
The next morning, they put their plan into action. Dressed in what they deemed appropriate camouflage - dark clothes and caps pulled low - they crept through backyards until they reached the tall hedge bordering Mrs. Abernathy’s property.
“Remember the code words,” Tommy whispered as they settled into their hiding spot. “If anyone comes, yell ‘red alert’ and we scatter.”
Ellie nodded, heart pounding with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. She peered through a gap in the foliage, taking in the overgrown yard and peeling paint of the small house. It did have a distinctly neglected, almost sinister air.
For the first hour, nothing happened. Ellie was just about to suggest they call it quits when she noticed a flicker of movement at one of the windows.
“Tommy!” she hissed. “Look!”
They both strained to see, but the curtain had fallen back into place. Another hour crawled by with no further signs of life from the house.
“Maybe she really is a witch,” Tommy muttered. “Using magic to spy on the neighborhood.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s probably just a regular old lady who doesn’t like going out much.”
As if on cue, they heard the creak of a door opening. Ellie and Tommy froze, hardly daring to breathe as they watched a stooped figure emerge onto the front porch. Mrs. Abernathy was rail-thin, with wispy white hair and a face etched with deep wrinkles. She moved slowly, leaning heavily on a cane as she made her way to a battered mailbox at the end of the walkway.
“What’s she doing?” Tommy whispered.
“Getting her mail, obviously,” Ellie replied, though she too watched with rapt attention.
Mrs. Abernathy retrieved a small stack of envelopes, then paused, lifting her face to the sky as if savoring the warmth of the sun. For a moment, her severe expression softened into something almost wistful. Then, with a small shake of her head, she turned and made her way back inside.
Ellie and Tommy looked at each other, slightly deflated. Their great surveillance mission had revealed nothing more exciting than an old woman checking her mail.
“Well, that was boring,” Tommy grumbled as they snuck back to his yard.
Ellie nodded, but she couldn’t shake the image of Mrs. Abernathy’s face in that brief, unguarded moment. There had been something there - loneliness, perhaps? - that tugged at her.
Over the next few days, Ellie found her thoughts returning to Mrs. Abernathy. She began to notice little details - curtains twitching as they played on the sidewalk, a light on late at night when she got up for a glass of water. It occurred to her that maybe Mrs. Abernathy was watching them just as much as they had been watching her.
“I think we should try talking to her,” Ellie announced one afternoon as she and Tommy lounged on his front porch, slurping popsicles.
Tommy nearly choked. “Are you crazy? She’d probably turn us into toads or something.”
Ellie sighed in exasperation. “She’s not a witch, Tommy. She’s just… alone. Don’t you think that must be awful? To never talk to anyone?”
Tommy looked unconvinced, but he could see the determination in Ellie’s eyes. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “But if anything weird happens, we run for it, okay?”
The next day, they stood nervously on Mrs. Abernathy’s cracked front walkway. Ellie clutched a plate of cookies she’d baked with her mother, while Tommy fidgeted beside her.
“You knock,” he whispered.
“Why me?”
“It was your idea!”
Before Ellie could work up the courage, the door creaked open a crack. A rheumy eye peered out at them suspiciously.
“What do you want?” a quavering voice demanded.
Ellie swallowed hard. “Um, hello Mrs. Abernathy. We’re your neighbors, and we thought… well, we baked you some cookies. To welcome you to the neighborhood.” She winced at the lie - Mrs. Abernathy had clearly lived there far longer than they had.
There was a long pause, then the door opened wider. Mrs. Abernathy regarded them with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.
“Neighbors, eh?” she said gruffly. “Didn’t think anyone around here remembered I existed.”
Ellie held out the plate of cookies. After a moment’s hesitation, Mrs. Abernathy accepted them.
“Well, come in then,” she said grudgingly. “No sense standing out there letting the cool air out.”
Exchanging nervous glances, Ellie and Tommy followed her inside. The house was dim and cluttered, but scrupulously clean. Every surface was covered with framed photographs and knick-knacks. Tommy’s eyes widened as he spotted a collection of military medals displayed in a case.
“Are those yours, ma’am?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Mrs. Abernathy’s expression softened slightly. “My Harold’s,” she said. “He was a war hero, you know. Saved his whole unit in the Pacific.”
As she launched into the story, Ellie noticed Tommy hanging on every word. Soon, they were all seated in the living room as Mrs. Abernathy regaled them with tales of her late husband’s exploits. To Ellie’s surprise, she proved to be a gifted storyteller, painting vivid pictures of far-off battles and daring escapes.
Before they knew it, the afternoon had slipped away. As they said their goodbyes, Mrs. Abernathy pressed the empty cookie plate back into Ellie’s hands.
“You’ll need this back,” she said gruffly. “For the next batch.”
Ellie beamed. “We’ll come visit again soon,” she promised.
As they walked home, Tommy was uncharacteristically quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked. “Weren’t her stories amazing?”
Tommy nodded slowly. “Yeah, but… did you see how many pictures she had? All those memories, and she’s just sitting there alone with them. It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”
Ellie felt a lump form in her throat. “Maybe we can help with that,” she said softly.
Over the remaining weeks of summer, Ellie and Tommy became regular visitors to Mrs. Abernathy’s house. They helped her with small chores, listened to her stories, and gradually coaxed her out of her self-imposed isolation. By the time school started, it wasn’t uncommon to see Mrs. Abernathy sitting on her front porch, waving to passing neighbors.
On the last golden afternoon before classes began, Ellie and Tommy sprawled on the lawn, idly pushing toy soldiers through the grass. Mrs. Abernathy sat nearby in a creaky lawn chair, knitting and occasionally offering strategic advice for their battle plans.
“You know,” Tommy said thoughtfully, “I think this was our best mission yet.”
Ellie smiled, looking from Tommy to Mrs. Abernathy. “Definitely,” she agreed. “Mission accomplished.”
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the perfectly manicured lawns of Levittown, Ellie felt a warm glow of contentment. She might have come to this neighborhood as an outsider, but she’d found something she’d never really had before - true friendship, and a sense of belonging. And in helping Mrs. Abernathy reconnect with the world, she’d discovered a kind of bravery in herself she never knew she possessed.
The summer of 1962 was drawing to a close, but for Ellie Pearson, it felt like the beginning of something wonderful.