Teagan watched the familiar scene unfold from his perch on the wooden fence outside his house. He couldn't help but grin as he saw his friends exchange wedgies with their usual exuberance. In Wedgietown, it was more than a greeting—it was a tradition, a ritual that bonded them all. "Another day, another wedgie," he chuckled to himself, tugging playfully at his own waistband.

Jace approached a group of kids, hands in his pockets, and instead of reaching for their waistbands, he simply said, "Hi, everyone!" The crowd around him paused, exchanging confused glances. Teagan felt the air shift, a ripple of surprise passing through the square. He was intrigued by this strange boy's audacity to break the norm.

"Why'd you just say 'hi' instead of giving a wedgie?" Teagan asked, his eyes widening with genuine interest. Jace shrugged, "I just think it's nice to greet people with words. Sometimes, a simple 'hi' can mean a lot." Teagan pondered this, the idea settling in his mind like a pebble creating ripples in a pond.

As Teagan walked through the crowd, he noticed some kids mimicking Jace, exchanging 'hi's' instead of wedgies. A group of adults frowned, whispering disapproval. Teagan felt torn, the weight of tradition pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Teagan found Jace by the ferris wheel, and with a newfound resolve, he greeted him with a friendly, "Hi, Jace." Jace beamed, "Hi, Teagan." In that moment, Teagan realized that change wasn't about abandoning the past, but about embracing new ways to connect. The festival continued around them, but for Teagan, a new tradition had begun, one that celebrated both the old and the new.