The first chapter of “The World Beyond the Attic Door” (Fifth grade)
There is nothing worse than spring house-cleaning on a hot Saturday. And, of course, a rainy week (when I’m free) doesn’t help.
I had been cursing all day: when I whitewashed, dishwashed, swept, vacuumed, and now, when I mopped. “You stupid, idiot, filthy, grossenating mop!” I yelled, when the water tipped over for the sixth time.
Bucket in hand, I shouldered the mop, feeling like a soldier going to war. “Private Macoy!” I heard a voice say. “You’re off to Fort Bathroom!” I saluted, picked up my mop (which I had put down to salute), and did a military turn, and marched up the stairs. Once in my parents’ room, I stopped to stare out the window. Outside several children were playing, as if they had never heard of spring cleaning. It reminded me that I had been cleaning for five solid weekends, and school is a vacation to me. I sighed, and dropped the bucket. In a minute, I noticed my shoes were wet, and I looked down. My shoes were soapy, too. “Oh my god!” I yelled as the water inched towards my mother’s prize rug. I wiped it up just before it reached the rug. I decided (so as to avoid seeing my parents) I would use the stairs in my older sister Emmie’s room. I tiptoed down the hall, hoping that Emmie would not see me. I wasn’t allowed to go in the room. I hadn’t been there in about six months. I opened the door, only to see another door! I hadn’t noticed it before. (As I said, I hadn’t been in her room since she put up a sign, “Keep Out This Means You Mandy.”) I decided it was the attic door, and a minute wouldn’t matter. After all, I wasn’t going to hurt anything. I opened the door, and closed it behind me.