One day until the move.

Dad poked his head through my bedroom door. "How's it going with the packing?"

"Oh, fine. I just need to finish with my clothes and then get my toiletries and stuff," I answered.

He nodded and leaned on the doorway. All of the doorways in our house were higher than normal, because my dad is really tall, so it was funny how he passed on that gene to me. My mom, on the other hand, is more of average height. "All right. Try not to forget anything!"

Dad left the room and I continued to neatly fold and place the rest of my clothes into a suitcase. I then gathered other miscellaneous items and added them in. I then opened Spotify on my phone and started playing some music. There was plenty of space to dance now that the only things in my room were some suitcases, a backpack, and the empty bed frame that we were leaving behind. The sun was shining through my skylight, producing a small spotlight on the hardwood floor. I tucked my wavy hair behind my right ear and my finger grazed my birthmark. I have this weird, small birthmark behind my ear that looks like a misshapen star. My finger tingled for a few seconds when I traced it.

When I walked outside, Mom was tending to the garden. "Hey, what are you up to?" she asked, brushing off the fertilizer from her gloves. Strands of hair stuck to her forehead.

"I just finished packing. I was going to go for a bike ride and, you know, say goodbye to Shorewood," I shrugged.

"Of course. Just be back by supper time, okay?"

I punched in the code on the keypad and the garage door opened silently. I weaved my way around the car and rolled out my cherry red bicycle.

The mid-afternoon sun shone highlights onto my hair. I pedalled all the way down the street and then towards the main area of town, keeping safe to the side of the road. I passed by lots of places and buildings, recalling memories from each one. The mall, where I got my first summer job at a jewelry kiosk; the theatres, where I saw countless amazing movies; the park, where I had many picnics.

I turned a corner and saw an old, decaying building. As I got closer, I realized what it was. 'Ice Cream Parlour', read the sun-bleached pink and green sign that was about to fall off its last rusted hinge. Suddenly, something in my brain clicked into place. I used to go here for ice cream all the time when I was little! It was a little upsetting to see it in such a run-down state. The windows and doors were carelessly boarded up and the whole building had an ominous, 'keep out' vibe to it.

I leaned my bicycle on a nearby tree and walked up closer to it. The main window on the left side was not sealed up very well, as you could still see inside through gaps under the boards. It was exactly like I remembered, except much dirtier and gloomier. The counter had a thick layer of dust on it and the tables and chairs were flipped over and scattered. The wallpaper was peeling off and the floorboards were missing in a few places. I started to walk away when my eyes adjusted to see my reflection in the glass. Except... It wasn't me.

There, staring right back at me, was my reflection. Except one key thing was missing. My eyes. Or, they were still there, but they were not mine. I gasped at the sight before me; everything else was normal except my irises were violet. Kind of a strange, purple-grey colour.

I heard someone chuckle in the distance. I immediately turned towards the sound, only to find nothing there. When I turned back to the window, my eyes were coloured as normal, as if nothing happened. "Maybe it was just the way the light was hitting the glass...?" I settled, unable to even convince myself.

I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see a brawny man, dressed in all black clothes that were dated, almost medieval. His face had several scars on it. He stood a fair distance away, then turned down an old, abandoned alley. He didn't look at me; I wasn't sure if he knew I was there. I swiftly hid behind a tree, peering around the side. He calmly walked down the alley, his hands folded behind his back. He stopped at a lamppost that had been there for decades. I knew very well that it hadn't functioned for years. Yet, with the simple flick of his fingers, he illuminated it. The old, decomposing, unrepairable, useless lamppost that's been there since before I was born, that has never lit up since 1996, was standing about ten feet away from me, glowing. There wasn't even a bulb in it. That guy just lit it. Like it was no big deal.

I blinked forcefully. The man chuckled again and seemingly disappeared into the shadows. The lamppost shut off as soon as he turned the corner. What the hell was that? I thought. Maybe I should check the best before date on those Rice Krispies I ate...

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After that, I couldn't get my mind off of it all day. I was convinced that I had witnessed something supernatural. Maybe it was an optical illusion or something? It just can't be actual magic...

I was so absorbed in the event that I didn't realize how thirsty I was. My throat was dry and parched, so I locked my bike on a bike stand and entered a nearby Starbucks. The cool air conditioning hit me like a blast of mist when I opened the door. It wasn't too packed in the café, but the line was reasonably long. Inside were many people ranging from ages thirteen to thirty or so, casually sipping iced concoctions and checking their phones. I would come here all the time, so I wasn't surprised by the population.

"I can help who's next!" announced a barista, waving her hand in my direction.

"Hi, I'll have a grande orange refresher. Less ice please," I ordered when I reached the counter.

"Name?"

"Chloe."

I paid for my drink before walking over to the pick-up counter. Wow, they actually spelled my name right! I thought, reading the cup and taking a seat at a table. Suddenly, my ears picked up a familiar voice at the cash register. Joy's here?! Damn, I can't catch a break from that girl.

She was angrily trying to explain to a slightly frightened barista what a ridiculously complicated strawberry shortcake frappuccino was. "For the last time! Four scoops of vanilla bean powder, five pumps of white mocha syrup and three pumps of toffee nut syrup. Blended well and shaken! And make it venti!"

I avoided eye contact and curtained my face with my hair. She left a few minutes later. I didn't realize until after I left that that was the last time I was going to see her. But I was okay with that. I finished my drink and left the green and brown café. The sun was setting lower as I bee-lined home.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

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"Chloe, you should really come inside now."

"Just ten more minutes."

My mom sighed before agreeing. "All right, but your father and I are going to bed. Don't stay out too much longer. Remember to lock the door when you come inside. Goodnight," she said quietly, kissing my forehead and shutting the sliding glass door behind her.

I was lying in a cloth hammock on my back porch, snuggling up in a soft blanket and sleepily watching the sun wink beneath the horizon, leaving a breathtaking trail of pinks, oranges, purples and blues behind it. The full moon was settled high in the sky, a glowing, silvery aura surrounding it. It was beautiful but mysterious. I yawned and pulled the blanket up so it covered me entirely up to my neck.

What time is it? I thought, pulling out my phone.

10:03 PM.

I should go inside.

But I don't want to.

Too comfy.

Sun's gone.

Dark out.

Getting cold.

Blanket's warm.

Lazy.

Can't get up...

Sleepy.

Tired.

I'll go back in later.

Just five minutes...

Five minutes turned into eight hours as I woke up to the sound of birds chirping. The sun was beginning to rise – it was probably about five in the morning. It was light enough to see clearly, but still reasonably dark. I quietly cursed at myself for not getting up when my mother asked me to.

I slipped out of the hammock and carried my blanket inside, making sure to lock the door behind me. I carefully tiptoed back to my room, accidentally stepping on a few creaky spots in the floorboards that miraculously didn't wake my parents. I tucked myself into my sleeping bag on the floor, cherishing the few hours that I got before I had to wake up. Uneasy didn't even begin to describe what I was feeling.

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Moving day.

I decided to get up at about nine a.m. since our flight leaves at noon. I couldn't sleep almost at all that night, I was so anxious. It was this weird mixture of being super excited to move to California, and wishing that I could take it slow and just move some other day. My parents were already halfway done transporting the suitcases into the car when I woke up. I got dressed, throwing on whatever my hands first touched as usual, and began helping arrange things into the back of the car. Approximately one hour later, we were finished, and the house was as empty as ever.

"We should get going," Mom announced, checking her watch.

Dad nodded, clasping his hands together. "Right, we don't want to miss the plane." The three of us swiftly analyzed the entire property, ensuring that we packed everything.

"I think we're good," I stated. "I didn't see anything we missed."

"Me neither," my parents replied in unison.

We stood there in silence for a moment, bidding farewell to the property. Mom and Dad started discussing who should drive and who should navigate while I clambered into the backseat. The back was filled almost to the ceiling. Dad shut the passenger door and pulled out a map.

"Everybody ready to go?" Mom asked, putting the key into the ignition.

Dad and I nodded. Truthfully, I don't think I was ready to leave. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to my first home. But this was for the greater good. I pressed my hand on the window, solemnly whispering goodbye as we drove past Shorewood. I sat back in my seat, adjusting the seatbelt so it would sit more comfortably across my lap. My eyelids were heavy and I didn't even care that I forgot to put makeup on this morning. I rested my chin in my palm, my elbow propped up against the armrest. It wasn't long before I fell asleep to the sound of cars whizzing by and tires turning.

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SMACK!

"Owww!" I yelled, still groggy from my nap. We had hit a pothole and my head flew to the window, hitting me square in the forehead.

Dad turned around. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I grumbled. I yawned and stretched out. There were painful kinks in my wrist and neck. "How much longer until we get to the airport?" I asked, rubbing my head.

"We should be there in about fifteen minutes," Mom answered. "About eleven o'clock."

"Good, I'm starving," I said.

Dad chuckled. "You had breakfast not too long ago! Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time to have a bite to eat before we board."

I laughed, shaking the sleep out of my system. Feeling more relaxed about the move, I took out my phone and scrolled Instagram to pass the time.

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"We're here!" Mom announced. She parked the car and turned it off. I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped outside, suitcase in one hand. Dad unloaded his and Mom's cases before locking the car.

"What's happening to the car?" I asked.

"We rented a vehicle moving service to get it to California. This one will get there sometime tomorrow, and our other car should already be parked in the new driveway. It's all been taken care of," Mom explained.

The airport was huge on the inside, with several walls made of glass windows overlooking the planes outside. There were lots of places to eat and shop, and an abundance of seats and resting areas. People were bustling about, from businessmen in fancy suits to large families with whiny children. You could often hear flight attendants over the intercom, reminding passengers that certain flights were ready to board. The air smelled faintly like leather and sunscreen.

After getting some food, my parents and I sat down in the seating area connected to our plane. I gazed out of the immense window beside me to see a clean, white jet plane with a logo emblazoned on each side. Dozens of men and women in fluorescent orange vests were examining the plane in every single spot, ensuring that absolutely nothing was out of place.

It took forever for the plane to start boarding passengers. I followed my parents into the metal tunnel that connected to the entrance of the jet. My shoes echoed against the floor. Our suitcases were already on the plane, so all I had was my backpack slung across my shoulder. We slowly made our way to first class and found our seats beside each other. I got a window seat. As soon as I could, I settled my headphones onto my ears. Dad soon reminded me to fasten my seatbelt. I watched as the ground got farther and farther away from me as the plane took off into the afternoon sky.

Goodbye, Minnesota. Hello, California.