In the attic

The fresh topic of discussion at school had moved from Miss Harris's bird's nest hair do to the cool new website that took photos of your street. All day kids were logging on, checking out the streets of Bickertown.
Tyler was desperate to check out his house, to show off his parent's palacial pad. But his pleas to the kids in the locker room to look at his laptop were drowned out by the guffaws coming from the crowd surrounding Gavin Baxter.
"It's Mickey Finn," said one kid. "On Morrison Street."
"Who's he snoggin'?" said another.
"I reckon it's Penny. She's the only girl I know that piles her hair on her head like a pineapple."
Tyler left the locker room during the chorus of snickers.
When he got home that afternoon the nagging curiosity of seeing his house online drew him to log onto his computer. He entered his address, clicked the mouse and up popped an image of the outside of his house. But the novelty of the innovation quickly wore off when, on closer inspection, he saw a face in the attic window that didn't belong to any of his family.