A few tears fall down my face as I hug my best friend. This hug is a special one, we cling together for a solid minute, until our parents pull us apart. I hear her whisper "please, please, don't go." And I felt another tear roll down my face. "I wish I could stay. I love you so much, don't forget about me. We will text and call. I need someone to get me through all the hicks," I see her smile and I smile.

"Let's go, we are going to miss our plane," my mom says, "we will miss you Vanessa, please feel free to visit whenever you want once we get settled."

"Okay. Bye," Nessa says sadly. She gives me one quicker hug and I grab my bags from the car. She climbs in, and waves as the car pulls off. My best friend, essentially my sister just drove off, who knows how long it will be if I see her again, if I ever see her again. People can drift apart easily when there are almost 800 miles between them.

I follow my parents into the airport, its winter in New York, I live in Manhattan with my parents, well, I lived. As in past. We sold our beautiful apartment in the best city in the world to move to Beaumont, South Carolina. I`ve never even heard of this place before, unless it's the town Footloose was set in. I definitely do not want to live there. My parents are both high rolling lawyers who work at some big firm thingy, and they needed a partner group to relocate to South Carolina, and my parents got selected, because since they are married it cuts all the moving costs in half, and as I said, they are both really good at their jobs. Needless to say I don't see them very much, and they think this nearly four hour plane ride will "really reconnect us as a family." Don`t get me started on how "good" it will apparently be for me to have a fresh start.

So I follow close to their suitcases as they lead us to baggage check. We each drop off one huge bag here, so I only have my smaller suitcase and my laptop bag left. The rest of our stuff is shipped by moving people and we can pick it up when we arrive. I put my headphones in and shove my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt as we wait in the security line. I love the cold of New York. I love the atmosphere of the city. It`s my home and I tried and tried to convince my parents to stay. All my friends, my childhood, everything I know and love is in that city. And I`ll be back. As soon as I can escape the hot, sweaty clutches of South Carolina.

I will admit one thing about this trip, I am so grateful that we are flying. 12 or 13 brutal hours in the car with my family is much worse than four on a plane. Just as I smile a bit at this thought, it fades. My bag goes through the little x-ray machine. And a red box pops up on the screen. Immediately, my heart skips a beat, what do I have in there that I`m not allowed to have? Nothing. I'm pretty sure I'm not a drug or arms dealer. I mentally check any possible contraband I packed and I come up empty. Just mostly the essentials, clothes, toiletries, phone charger. The man looking at the screen comes over to me and my bag, "you have been randomly selected for a luggage search," he says nonchalantly as he begins unzipping my bag.

The New York side of me comes out a bit, "what?! You can't just go through my bag out here in front of everyone."

"Actually ma`am we can, unless you have something to hide. We take our passengers security as our number one priority," he flips open my bag. All of the contents explode. I'm terrible at packing and I always overstuff my bag. Plus I always remember other stuff I need and shove that in too and it's just quite the fiasco in there. I blush as he rips through my clothes, my bras and underwear, my little jewelry box, my bag of tampons, my clump of chargers, headphones and wires. He shoves it all back in with no sense of order, zips it up and gives me the all clear, I thank him, pull on my shoes and grab my laptop bag.

My parents are waiting for me just outside the security line. My mother dressed in her usual black pantsuit, black heels, tall enough to be professional, yet short enough to be practical. Its all about the practicality to my parents. "It's only practical, Nicole," they told me as they filled out my transfer papers.

Mom has her small black glasses on the edge of her nose, subdued makeup, framing her deep brown eyes, and dark hair tied in a small knot, her mouth a tight line. She has a suitcase and a briefcase. My father carries the same, but in a gray suit with a striped purple tie. He has a soft smile but I can tell he has a lot on his mind, his hair is like pepper. With his dark hair being replaced by soft silver ones. His eyes are brown like a puppy, but contraire, they can turn to the eyes of a wolf in half a second.

I love them both and I don't resent them, I'm pissed but it is life I guess. I don't really get along with either of them. In my opinion it's not practicality, it's your own happiness that matters the most. I have incredibly curly and fluffy light blonde hair. My mom says it's too much and I should straighten it, but I think it's cute and I love it. I have fair blue eyes. Apparently I get my pale features from my grandmother, I never met her. However I've seen pictures, it's like looking at a picture of myself in black and white. I wear black eyeliner carefully penciled onto my lids with a little wing. I have piercings going all the way up one ear, and two more on the other. I also have a little stud in my nose, and a heart in my belly button that my parents are so far unaware of. I pulled on black skinny jeans and combat boots this morning. As well as my favorite shirt, black with "nirvana" written in faded letters from my parent's glory days. Over that I have a black and red flannel shirt.

This is kind of a biased description though, don't get me wrong, I love piercings and black and band tees, but I also love cute necklaces, braids, pink and heels. I am the quintessential example of "in-between."

I follow two of the well-dressed people in the ocean of professionals to our gate. We arrive practically early and find our seats on the plane, I put my headphones in and blast music so I don't have to hear my heart break as we take off and really leave my home.