Traffic at the Pier

The blare of Carla's voice through the phone, screaming about missing our flight, jolted me. It was finally happening: my first vacation without my family. A rush of excitement, tinged with a nervous flutter, went through me as I hurried downstairs, double-checking my bag for the tenth time.
After quick goodbyes to my dad and little brother, I practically dove into Carla’s car, ready for the adventure. Vanessa, already seated, eyed Carla’s bulky attire with a smirk. "What are you wearing? You look like you stole your clothes from a homeless man in winter," she chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You do know we're going to the beach and not the North Pole...right?"
I rolled my eyes at their usual banter. "Haha, you guys are so funny," I retorted, though a small smile played on my lips. "It's cold on the airplane and airport, so I'm just comfy and warm."
Carla, ever the practical one, chimed in, "Yeah, but that's too much. Why are you wearing such a big jacket? A hoodie should have done it."
Their teasing was a familiar comfort, a prelude to the freedom of vacation. We were finally free from high school, ready for whatever this trip threw at us.
