I remember it was the end of 7th grade and school let out for the summer. I was saying goodbye to my friends and remember being sad. We hugged goodbye and I told them I wasn’t moving and that I’d be back in three weeks. Looking back, it was comical how worried my friends were that they thought my three week vacation in Guyana would somehow turn into me moving there permanently. I remember at the airport, Asha’s bag got checked and she freaked out saying, “I didn’t pack my own bag; my mom did it.” We all died of laughter, because she was so young. I remember my dad telling me to not talk to any boy and to not go swimming. I remember the day we got there. We were playing catch with an unripened guava. Dave was throwing it from the ground up to the balcony where me and Priya were standing. He threw it too hard, and I ducked – not catching it. We all heard a loud crashing sound of glass shattering. We slowly turned around and saw the window had broken, leaving piece of glass all around the balcony floor.