Love's labour lost

Denny Love wanted the best tree house ever. There was no way on earth she was going to go through another summer with all her friends hanging out in Alexa Ruttle's tree house, or more like tree mansion. The thing wasn't even hers. She never built it, she inherited it from the Michaels after they moved to London.
No, Denny wanted all the kids at her tree house. She wanted it to be the talk of the town, the best ever. All through spring term Denny bragged to anyone, within earshot of Alexa, that hers would have a lift, a mini bowling alley and satellite television. By the time summer came every kid in the school had heard of Denny 's tree house which, as the rumour spread from person to person, had developed a helipad, garage and revolving dance floor too. Expectations were high.
Denny spent very little time constructing her tree house. Instead she fluttered her eyelashes at her older brother, Archie, and convinced him to do it for her, promising that she'd do his chores for a month, even though she had no plan to honour that promise. While Archie slaved over a workbench and a saw, Denny laid back on the sun lounger with a cold coke in one hand and her ipod in the other.
When the promised opening day arrived Denny looked up at her brother's creation, nestled in the branches of 'old faithful', the oak tree that had been struck by lightning more times than anyone in its lifetime could remember. Disappointment was etched all over her face. The boards Archie used to build the walls had come from an old wooden warehouse. Half were painted a dull, dirty grey and half weren't; the windows, which were nothing more than open vents, were squint and her planned lift, was a frayed rope ladder.
"Is this what you call a tree house?" she spat with indignation. "I could have done a better job myself. I've got half the school coming to see this."
"I did the best I could," said Archie, apologetically. "If I had more time I might have done a better job."
"Well, there better be a games area up there," she kvetched as she stared up at the leaden sky.
A stiff breeze blew in from the north, fluttering the leaves and swaying the branches of the old oak. But when the first of the eager guests arrived Denny was less than enthusiastic about seeing them . "It's a work in progress," she hurriedly explained as they stared up at her pathetic tree house.
The reaction she got from the kids from her school was not what she envisaged when she came up with her grand plan. She could hear their jibes and snickers even though the wind as it whistled round her garden. The more she heard the more she raged inside. Most of the kids took one look at the tree house, tutted at it and left, muttering about what a total let down it was. Those that stayed were taking bets as to how long it was going to last in the ever strengthening wind.
Soon Denny's tree house began to creak and groan. The sound of something snapping caused the small crowd of gamblers to jump back toward the fence, away from 'old faithful'.
"It's as strong as an ox," boasted Denny. "It can withstand anything. Even a nuclear bomb."
It seemed Denny's bluster was wearing thin as nobody appeared the least bit convinced by her. They shook their heads at her and one kid in the year below her suggested they head over to Alexa Ruttle's. Beneath Denny's cool, calm exterior she was now fizzing with frustration and anger.
It was then that a strong gust of wind spun like a vortex round the old tree. Everyone, Denny included, was transfixed as the force and power the wind generated suddenly crushed the tree house as though it was tissue paper. Denny's tree house was no more.
As she stood, staring at the splintered wood strewn across the garden, she felt knots of anguish and self loathing that she had driven all the kids to her enemy tighten within her.
"Better luck next time, Denny," someone giggled as one by one the kids dispersed.