Lissa has always been a bit of a scatterbrain, a dreamer, someone on the outskirts. She lets it slide off her back, cool as a cucumber, and tells herself that she is a genius misunderstood in her time. She tells her parents everything is fine, and puts on a smile, and they believe her. It's easy to get them to believe her, somehow.

But eventually, something has to break. Finally, it gets to be too much, and one night she finally starts packing. Various granola bars in sweet flavors, a bag of jerky, several changes of clothes, the fancy water bottle with a built-in filter that her dad bought from a catalog and then never used (filled), a Swiss army knife that jams on occasion, all the small free samples of body wash and shampoo and conditioner she can find around the house (bagged), her sketchbook and pencils, her wallet, her library card, her phone (location sharing disabled), a random survival guide from the living room, and a pair of fresh apples as a treat.

She steps out the door, locking it behind her, and takes a step out onto the street.

And then she's not on the street.