**Video above is the first chapter in audiobook format - completely voiced by me, and I am by NO MEANS a professional, I did this just for fun and to help with editing. I will be loading the audiobook to each chapter weekly**

I look over at my neatly organized color coded closet, then regard my pink and blue luggage bags. They are empty. There is no way I can decide which of my many precious outfits to take with me. For half an hour I urge my clothes to pack themselves but clearly that is not going to happen. I sigh and start pulling my favorite t-shirts from their hangers and fold them neatly into piles.

I talk myself through the tasks; Okay, now pack your jeans. Good, now pack your shorts and sweaters. It takes a short amount of time to fill the large suitcase and then I jump on top of it, struggling to zip it shut. My brain tries to convince me that this is a sign I shouldn't be going.

"No," I grunt and pull the zipper home. "I will not talk myself out of this."

With a huff, I sit on my small bed and look around at the pictures that plaster my walls. Old friends, new friends, and family smile back at me. My bedroom walls reflect my entire life. There are pictures of me from the time I was born to just yesterday at my "Cya later" dinner. My mom had refused to call it a "Goodbye" party.

I would miss these walls, but I wasn't going away forever. After stumbling my way through my first year of university, I knew I had to get away. I had to immerse myself in a different world and try to figure out what the hell I would do with my life.

Applying to University right out of high school was never my plan. Nobody in my family had ever finished high school. Once we realized I would graduate, my mom started thinking about all the opportunities I could have if I continued my education. It was for her that I applied to University, thinking I would never get in. When that letter came I knew there was no going back; I also knew that it was a good thing. Truthfully, I just felt like it was happening too fast.

During the last week of classes, I booked an open-ended ticket to Vancouver BC. It wasn't far from home, only a one hour and sixteen minute flight, but it was far enough away for me to feel like I was doing something big. Something big and exciting for me. The goal was to come back a different person, somebody who could decide what they wanted to major in at least.

The sound of a car honking outside my house snaps me from my thoughts. I guess this is my cue; it's time for me to go.

With great effort, I heave the suitcase off my bed with a loud thunk and sling my bulging duffle bag over my shoulder before taking a final glance around my room. It's time, I tell myself. The small plastic wheels squeal beneath the weight of my belongings as I pull my bag behind me. I pretend the noise is my walls saying goodbye to me.

No, not goodbye, just cya later.

As I open the front door and take a last look inside my childhood home, I realize just how much I will miss it. Luckily, I don't need to face a tearful goodbye from my mom; we did that last night. With a sigh, I close the door and face the car waiting for me in the driveway.

My best friend Becca is driving me to the airport in her beat up old ford. As I approach her she is frowning, eyeing my overstuffed bags. To say she disagrees with my decision to go to Vancouver is an understatement. I guess it's not that she disagrees with me going; She just hates that I don't want her to come with me.

Becca and I have been inseparable since grade seven when I bit her finger while watching a scary movie at a mutual friend's house, which is a long but true story. We have been through so much together. We were on the cheer team and handball team together in junior high, but come high school sports were not nearly as important as partying and getting drunk. It didn't take long for us to dip into minor drugs and luckily; it took even less time for us to realize how stupid we were being.

There was only one period where we were not sure if our friendship would make it. That is something that neither of us like to talk about. The whole situation was too complicated and traumatic, something two teenage girls shouldn't have dealt with. After that one blip on our friendship, we were always there to support each other and give the other a kick in the butt when needed.

This was something I wanted to do by myself, and although she was angry, she was still supporting me.

"Jeeze, did you pack everything you own or something?" Becca flips her dark hair over her shoulder as she helps me heave my bulging suitcase into the back of her truck.

"Just enough for two months," I cheerfully reply.

She scowls, and the expression doesn't look right on her petite face. No, it isn't just the scowl that doesn't look right; she isn't wearing any makeup. Becca always has a full face of makeup on.

"Where's your face?" I tease.

We climb into the truck; the doors squeak in protest as we slam them shut. "No point in putting on makeup when I'm just going to cry it off. See I thought this girl was my best friend, but apparently she's not because she decided to leave town for the entire summer!"

"Becca..." I begin.

"But get this," she continues in a scandalous voice "this girl, that I thought was my best friend, doesn't even want me to go with her!"

I roll my eyes. "This is something I need to do on my own." We have been over this nearly every single day, since I booked my plane tickets. It's not as if I told her she couldn't come and visit. In fact, she had already decided that she would fly in for my last week so we could fly home together.

"Whatever," she snarls, ending the conversation.

We drive in silence and it feels so wrong. This isn't us. Becca and I don't sit in silence; we talk, laugh, and crack jokes. The airport is approaching in the distance and so I have to break the silence.

"Becca, you are my best friend and I don't want to leave like this."

"I don't want you to leave." She snaps back at me. I don't say another word. I know she was hoping I would cave and tell her to come with me. It shocks me she hasn't packed a bag just in case I change my mind.

When we pull into the airport we sit for a moment, waiting for the other to say something. Then, as we often do, we speak at the same time. It is impossible not to laugh. Things like this happen all the time with us; that's just how close we are.

Back in junior high, we were always saying the same things at the same time. Sometimes we would show up at school with matching clothes without ever meaning to. Our teachers would even joke about us sharing a brain. They would say 'Becca you must have the brain today.' when I would get a question wrong. It would make everyone laugh, I never took it hard considering I knew Becca was smarter than me.

Now she pretends to take the brain from her head and places it in my hands. I roll my eyes and place the imaginary brain in my head. The simple gesture brings tears to my eyes. I know my decision to go upsets her, but this means forgiveness. "You better be careful." she growls as she pulls me in for a hug. She smells fruity and so like Becca it makes the tears brim over.

I silently cry as she helps me drag my bags into the airport. We load them onto a rickety trolly and hug for a long time. People around us probably think we are a couple having a tearful goodbye, but we are just best friends. Best friends that have seen each other almost every single day for the last seven years. Best friends that are not good at saying goodbye.

"I will see you in a few weeks." We brush each other's tears away and smile. "Good thing you didn't wear any makeup," I tease.

Becca nods in agreement.

"I have to check my bags in."

"Alright, so move it!" She shoves me away from her playfully and gives a small pathetic wave once I am a few steps away. I return the wave and then I turn my back on my best friend, walking towards the first adventure that I will ever take alone.

My oversized bags are easy to find at the luggage carousel and neither of them busted open during the flight. I wheel my belongings to the nearest exit and wave down the first taxi I see. The driver helps heave my bags into the trunk and I give him the address of where I am staying.

Luckily, I found a cheap place to stay for my two-month trip. My initial plan had been to stay at a hotel, but that turned out to be extremely expensive. Instead, I found a wicked Airbnb and would be staying in a condo only a few blocks from the beach.

After contacting the couple that owned the place and telling them about myself and why I was coming to Vancouver, they gave me an unheard of deal. It was costing me only 500 dollars a month to stay at the Hutch's condo. As if that deal wasn't sweet enough, they also reassured me that if I needed anybody to show me around, their granddaughter would be happy to show me around Vancouver.

"She is quite the party girl, our Jennie, but she's a good girl," Mrs Hutch had said.

As we drive, I take in the sights of the city. It's beautiful. Trees, hedges, flowers, bushes. Every which way you look there is a plant of sorts thriving so brightly you can't deny that they are alive. Nothing grows so vibrantly back home.

I see downtown Vancouver approaching in the distance, the tall buildings reflect the sunlight back at me, and a buzz of excitement erupts in my stomach. Before I know it, we are crossing Granville Bridge, and I get my first view of the beach I will spend a lot of my time at. The water sparkles in the sunlight, calling for me to jump into its depths. Mentally, I check off the beach as the first place to go explore.

After a short two-minute drive from the bridge, we pull in front of a tall building with a large, ornately decorated wooden sign that reads "Beachside Condominiums." I stuff two crumpled twenties in the cab driver's hand and he helps me carry my bags to the front door of the building. Beautiful planters holding an assortment of red, white, and purple flowers line the walkway, swarming me in a lovely floral scent.

I buzz apartment number 1804 and a friendly voice rings through the speaker. My new landlady greets me and directs me to take the elevator to the 18th floor. The door clicks, I pull it open and excitement flows through me; time to check out my home for the summer.