Personal Narrative-Electomy

I spent most of my childhood years miniature town called Spring. We had an itty bitty house and lived on an extremely long street with a sinister name.... Ambler.... Moving on. The roofs were super easy to get on and my brother and I always dreamed of getting onto the roofs. We sat on our beds for hours at a time planning it all out. But mothers "always know best." But I guess sometimes they do.
I moved into that sinister street and itty bitty house when I was 6. It was my 12th birthday when we decided to hop up on the roof. My mother was gone and he said "we'll only be up there fer a bit. Aint' gonna be a problem" He flashed me a thumbs up. So I hesitantly got up there, too afraid to look down. My brother came second. But it wasn't until

we got settled up there when my mom pulled into the driveway.
Panicking, my brother shoved me off the roof. I landed on my arm with a "THUD" My brother looked at me with a blank expression on his face. "..." It was a long silence. I got up slowly and pretended to be "alright".
Two days later my neighbor tells my mom that he spotted us prancing on the roof like dorks. Two So my mom "interrogates" us and we finally spill the beans. I told my mom about my arm and we went to a minute clinic to get my arm checked out. Turns out there was a crack. We were grounded and forbidden to go outside when my mom wasn't home. (But of course we still do.)
I learned to always tell the truth even if it involves consequences.