Classes are almost over for the year, but today is anything but peaceful. The hallways buzz with the chatter of students packing up backpacks and whispering goodbyes to friends. My locker screams open and shut as I stuff in a few last books, papers flying everywhere.

A bell sounds too soon and I dash down the empty corridor. Students rush past, duffels in hand, their faces showing mixed emotions—excitement for break, anxiety over what comes next. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a classroom window, seeing my own tired eyes, hair mussed from hurried tying.

The courtyard is chaotic with kids congregating in small groups, laughing and tossing around frisbees. A couple jumps up to the safety netting above, trying to perfect their flip before landing. Laughter rings out, mingling with shouts of “Last day!” as classmates high-five or fist-bump.

At a table, a senior is helping a freshman load books into a huge backpack, joking good-naturedly about how it’s the size of a suitcase. The junior next to me starts singing along with his headphones, and I can’t help but smile. Even if this year was challenging, seeing these moments makes it all worth it.

I spot my friend Jessa across the courtyard, already half-packed. We bump into each other at our table, laughing as we spill papers onto the ground. “Can you believe this is really it?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” I reply, leaning on the table. The final bell rings out, and a wave of students rush to us, eager for their break. We grab our things quickly, my backpack feeling suddenly heavy with all the small items I’ve added at the last minute.

We walk out the front doors together, Jessa pausing in the sunshine. “Summer!” she exclaims, her face breaking into a grin that lights up her whole being. “Let’s have an awesome summer,” I add, trying for a joke but both of us know it’s true.

As we push through the thronging students to our bikes, the world around us hums with the energy of freedom and the promise of rest. This last day is already fading into memory, replaced by the reality of summer ahead.