House On Mango Street Short Stories

In Another Multiverse

Whenever I go to sleep, I always think back to the days when I talked to her. The first day of summer just started, and I suddenly got a snap. I opened it. Looking at her beautiful black eyes, straight elegant hair, and heartwarming smile, I asked myself, “Who is this beautiful girl?” From then on, we became friends and we got to know each other better.  Deep down, I always knew in my heart that we were meant for something greater than just friendship.

A few days went by and suddenly, the goodnight and good morning messages started to appear. For some reason, I felt this feeling in my heart that I have never felt before. It felt like a rush of warmth that swelled through my chest along with a feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach.  At this moment, the curiosity inside of me arose. The curiosity was urging me to find out if this girl really liked me or not so I decided to text her friend. “Emily,” I texted. She replied with, “What.” From then, I was continuously asking her for answers, dying to know. In the end, Emily finally said, “Yes, she feels the same.” As soon as those words reached my eyes, I felt nothing but joy purging throughout my veins. Little did I know that she was not the one.

After a month of talking, I received a text one day that would drastically change my life. The words “I think we should stop talking” are still stuck in my head to this day.  I was so surprised when this happened because I thought that everything was going well. Each day that we spent together was perceived as contented and loving. Whilst, I now knew that this feeling was not mutual. It turned out that she never had any true feelings for me and only talked to me because she was bored during the summer. I’ve been led on for the past few months… Even though this happened, I now know something very important; that everybody is not what they seem to be and anything can happen at any time in your life. 

 Painting My Way Into Adulthood

Summer just started and I needed to find a way to make money. Money is a key essential that I need in my life in order for me to buy clothes and have fun. I thought that I would have a regular job like working at a fast food restaurant or being some type of assistant. Little did I know that this was not the case. One afternoon, I was talking to my mom about money and jobs, when she told me some exciting news. She said, “Your friend Leo’s dad was talking to me about how you two boys should work for him.” This idea instantly got me hyped knowing that I could be making money while working with my best friend. “What type of job?” I asked. “Painters,” she said. Suddenly, my excitement dropped. Being a painter was not the type of job to be excited about because it requires a lot of hard work and time. At that time I was desperate for money and decided to say yes. The next day, work began. I woke up to my dad calling me at 7AM telling me to get ready for work. Keep in mind that this was the first week of summer and I felt very lazy. I didn’t know what to wear so I came in my PJS. I thought to myself that painting houses should be an easy job that does not require a lot of experience. Unfortunately, I learned that there were many important aspects to know when painting a house. There was prepping, using a ladder, taping, and so much more. It turns out that painting houses were much more complex than I thought. Leo and I started off by painting his house for experience. A week passed by and we finally finished. Looking at our work, his dad said that we did a pretty decent job. He then explained to us how a paint job like this could cost a few thousand dollars. Wow I thought. This was a goldmine. By the end of the summer, we had painted at least 3 houses and made a lot of money. Additionally, I also gained a lot of experience and knowledge about the real world. There was no goofing around and it required seriousness when it comes to working. Summer ended, and I entered sophomore year with more money, but most importantly, comprehension of adulthood.

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