“Chloe,  come  on!” my dad called from the cheery kitchen of our rented apartment. I groaned, and looked in the scratched mirror.

“In a minute!” I hollered over my shoulder.  My hair was frizzy and wouldn’t stay put in any of the hairstyles that I arranged it in. I was going to see my best friend for the first time in four years, and everything had to be perfect. It had happened that my family and I and my best friend and her family were going to be in Paris at the same time, so nothing could go wrong. I was so nervous that Taya would be different, or that I would be different, or that we just wouldn’t have the same kind of friendship that we used to. What if she is really stuck up, or she wasn’t as fun as she used to be? I had been waiting to see her for such a long time, but now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see her. And now, my hair was turning into a giant puffball!  Finally, I just pulled my hair back in a boring  ponytail and shoved a pale blue bow into my scalp. Not perfect, but it was fine for touring and walking around all day.After looking in the mirror one last time, I was satisfied and quickly shuffled  down the narrow wooden hallway.

“Come on Casey, we are leaving in five minutes” my mom told my lazy little sister.  She sat at one of the itchy woven straw chairs, slowly eating sugary cereal out of a glass bowl. And I was the one who needed to hurry up. My mom and dad stood at the door, attempting to persuade Casey to finish getting ready.

Finally, she was ready, and we scrambled into the tiny glass elevator while my parents  climbed down the steep spiral staircase. She would shriek in delight and pound on the glass every time we saw our parents through the elevator, her voice high-pitched and giggly. What was it about riding in a cramped elevator that made her so happy? It seemed like little kids never worried about anything, unlike me.  After 15 seconds of Casey screaming at the top of her tiny lungs  and the  queasiness of the elevator descending, it was a relief to squeeze out of the elevator and into the small, vacant lobby of the building. “I’ll open the door!” my sister yelled, rushing to open the giant old-fashion doors, her light brown hair flying. She proudly pushed it open, and held it open as the  french people smiled at her antics.

  My family spilled out onto the old, cracked sidewalks and strolled down the road. Even after staying in Paris for over a week, the sights of Paris blew me away. The old-fashioned balconies on the top floors of stone apartment buildings towered above the pavement, and street performers slouched on the sidewalk, playing their instruments and nodding at tourists whenever they felt kind enough to give them a bit of money.  Tiny cars beeped at ignorant pedestrians, and taxis swerved along the narrow street.  After walking for a few moments, we found the place where we would meet my friend’s family

“It’s only 9:45” my mom said, squinting against the blinding sun at her slender watch “ They probably won’t be here for a few more minutes”.I tried to calm myself by gazing at the scenery, but it did little to relax me. Tourists from all countries rushed by us, chattering in their strange languages. I wished that I knew how to speak different languages. What were they saying? Did they wish that they spoke English? When I realized that I was effectively distracting myself trying to understand the languages, my nerves came back.

“Maybe we came to the wrong place?” I said to myself, wishing that I could just relax.  My heart hammered against my chest and my fingers squeezed the hem of my shorts so hard that my knuckles were white. I stood on my tiptoes and gazed around the giant group of tourists, looking for Taya’s wavy red hair. Was she going to be the same? Would we still be friends even if we hadn’t seen each other  in such a long time? The excited chattering in countless languages built to my excitement.

  “Hey!  There they are!” my mom said, walking toward a random fountain. I couldn’t see over so many people, but all of the sudden, I saw them. They stood out against the crowd of dark-haired people and seemed to be lost. There she was! I couldn’t believe it. Was she as nervous and excited as I was?

  “Taya!” I yelled, waving frantically at her. She turned around, and her smile was so wide that it took up most of her face. I was surprised that she looked so different, but then again I hadn’t seen her since second grade.

  “Hey!” she said, hugging me. After staring at each other for a minute, we started laughing. It felt like a dream. How often do you get to see your long-lost best friend in Paris? “Are you ready to go?” she  she  asked  in  her  familiar  Australian  accent, still   smiling  and  looking  around  at  the  gorgeous    buildings,  taking  it  all  in.

    “Yep.” I  responded instantly,  and  we  walked over to join  our  families  to  see the sights of Paris one last time.