Leo arrived next door with a scuffed pair of red sneakers and a bright grin. He spotted me on my bike and sprinted across the fence.
My dad waved him over and handed him the hose. Leo sprays the carrots with a giggle. Then he accidentally waters my tomato plants instead.
The tomatoes turned bright orange for three whole days. Dad just shook his head and laughed. Leo pretended he meant to do it.
On my birthday, Leo appeared at my window with a slightly squashed store-bought cupcake and three candles stuck at weird angles.
We ate it on the roof while the candles dripped wax on our fingers. 'Happy birthday,' Leo said. We both laughed until our sides hurt.
Leo started school and came home with a crumpled drawing of us holding hands under a lopsided sun. He held it up like it was the most important thing in the world.
Leo climbed the big oak tree behind our houses and sat at the top branch, waiting for me. I climbed up too and we swung our legs together.
We watched our dads mow the lawn below. The machines buzzed like giant angry bees. Leo kicked his heels against the bark and grinned.
Leo got taller and slower. The ball didn't always get chased anymore. But some things never change.
He still bumped into my doorframe when he ran inside. And he still said my name the exact same way.