(1) time to leave

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LIBBY

***

"When do you leave?" My best friend Lois asks whilst on my speakerphone. I'm still gathering up and folding the last of my clothes, so I need both my hands.

"Two days!" I squeal excitedly and my dog, Jughead looks up alarmed. When he sees I'm not squealing because I'm hurt, he puts his head back down and closes his eyes.

"And you're gone for a whole year?" She asks for the fourteenth time, and she sounds sad for the fourteenth time. Lois, my best friend in all the world, is probably one of the only ones – other than my immediate family – who is sad to see me leave the country for a year.

"Yup. But hey, we can skype all the time. And texting. Lo, trust me, it'll be like I never left," I smile and take her off speaker, putting my phone to my ear.

"I suppose. Have you got everything on your list?" She giggles, knowing me to a tee. I am an extensive list-maker and I stress about things that don't even need to be stressed about.

I giggle, "Maybe."

She laughs down the phone and I'm glad her mood has turned around. I don't like it when she's sad. "I'll leave you to your lists."

"Cool. I'll come round and see you tomorrow, I promise."

"Sounds good. I'm seriously going to miss you, you know. And I know I keep saying it, but you better not meet someone and stay out there..." She giggles knowingly and I can picture her face on the other end of the line, teasing me.

"Lo, come on. I'm there to study. I may meet someone but they'll probably only be fascinated with the accent then get bored," I giggle. "But, more importantly, I'm really going to miss you too!"

I clutch my hand to my chest and swallow back a lump in my throat. I wasn't lying. I was about to go somewhere completely alien, and I wish every day that she'd be right there with me, enjoying and experiencing it all with me. She's the sister I've always wanted and I can't imagine surviving America without her.

"Libby!" I hear a call from downstairs through my open bedroom door.

"Crap, that's Dad. I better go. Love you Lo!"

"Love you too!"

I hang up and drop the phone on my bed before counting my piles quickly. I then head down the stairs towards the call of my dad. Jughead loyally follows and jumps up at my dad, wagging his tail furiously. Dad, however, does a fantastic job of ignoring him.

"Hey Dad, what's up?" I ask, coming and sitting down in the kitchen next to him.

He's home for the next few days because Mum couldn't get it off work. My flight is at eight on Saturday morning, in two days, which means I have to get there by five o'clock in the morning to check-in... and I really was regretting booking it so early now that I thought about it. I'm not a morning person, and I never have been, so I really don't know what I was thinking.

"You all packed?" He asks, taking a slurp of his coffee.

I grab a piece of toast from the plate in the middle of the table and break off a piece, feeding some of it to Jughead, who had been staring at it in my hand. "Nearly. Just need to put it in the actual bag."

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