The tradition of the Eden Avenue Sledding Hill and Winter Olympics, on the rare occasion it snowed.

The tradition of Leah and Tess are best friends, and always have been.

New people who moved to Ormewood Park learned these traditions right away, because everyone was quick to share their stories. “Ormewood is a really special place,” someone would usually say. “It’s not like other neighborhoods in Atlanta. We’re one big family, really.”

And that was true.

But as I followed Tess’s backpack down Woodland Avenue, along the familiar cracked sidewalks, I found myself thinking about how it might feel to live somewhere different. Where it wasn’t always the same. Where you could go straight home, alone, on the last day of school, if you were feeling tired, no matter what the traditions were.

The truth was that, on the first last-day-of-school since last summer, it wasn’t the same for me at all. It couldn’t be. And the pretending was painful. Like I’d been carrying something very heavy for way too long and I just wanted to go home and set it down.

When we neared the ice cream shop, Lane and Minnah bolted ahead, and Tess followed them, turning to shout at me, “There’s a massive line, come on!”

So I ran too. Because it didn’t seem fair not to. It wouldn’t feel right without Leah. But running gave me the funniest feeling. Like I was running with my feet, but my brain wasn’t running. My heart wasn’t running.

This is what Leah looks like when she runs, I thought to myself.

This is Leah running to join her friends for celebratory last-day-of-school ice cream. Just like always.

As we ate our banana split, everyone was full of summer plans. Lane was going to see her grandparents in Canada, and Minnah was visiting her family in Vietnam, and Tess was going to New York, like every summer. I listened to them talk and waited for what I knew had to come next. Sure enough, it did. Minnah turned to me, with a mouthful of fudge, and asked, “What about you, Leah? You going to camp like usual?”

I looked to Tess, and her eyes were wide, waiting to see what I’d say.

What could I say?

“No. I’m not really doing anything this summer.”

“Oh,” said Lane, looking a little uncomfortable. “Well, that’s cool. Then you can just relax, right? And maybe there will be some great last-minute surprise thing. A road trip?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so,” I said. “I don’t think my parents are up for surprises this summer.”

Then everyone was quiet for a minute, and we all peered down at our ice cream, scraped at the banana boat with our spoons, trying to find some last bit of goodness, even though it was really all gone.