The sound of a car honking meant a roadway was nearby.

And after heading in the wrong direction of the sound—not once nor twice but thrice—May finally emerged to find pavement and yellow lines. Grabbing her phone, she observed the screen.

Battery life: 1%.

"Shit."

A truck passed by, hay blowing off the bales in the back. It scattered in her face, a piece getting in her mouth. May spit and sputtered and rubbed her eyes, sneezing, for she was allergic to hay.

"Okay, no big deal," she said to herself. "Road means people. That means. . . I have no clue what it means and my legs hurt and I'm about to piss myself."

The weight of her backpack got heavier and heavier, yet she dragged it and herself up the side of the back-country road. Huffing and puffing, May checked her phone to find that the battery had finally died. Sweat dripped all down her forehead, her shirt, and her thighs. The sun beat down on her. When she couldn't take it anymore, she leaned against a 45 MPH sign.

Feeling her stomach growl from hunger, May squinted her eyes to see a sign across the roadway; it had an arrow and said Park Entrance.

Figuring there may be benches or a usable toilet, she rushed across the road. Unfortunately, the academically-gifted college student in her infinite wisdom forgot the elementary rule of looking both ways. A beat-up, old sedan with a bad paint job laid on the horn, swerving inches within hitting her. May yelped, falling off to the side of the road.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she shouted. "Oh God, why am I apologizing?"

Giving up with a dramatic display of tears, May laid there on the ground to cry. However, it wasn't much longer before she saw the shadow of another car fall over her. Looking up, May saw the memorable red Ford Focus.

"Dad!" Scrambling to her feet, she watched her dad climb out of his car to help her. She fell into his arms, finally feeling safe.

"Sweetheart!" He hugged her tight, smelling of bacon and too much Axe body spray; just like how she remembered. "Tell me you're all right."

"I am, now."

Another door opened and shut to the car; out stepped her father. "Mable!" He wrapped his arms around both her and her dad. "God, you gave us such a scare!"

Between the two of them, she felt that sense of safety that returned her to her wonderful childhood.

"Remember how I told you two I wasn't coming home for break?" she said. "Well. . . please?"

"Oh you do not even have to ask," her dad said. He opened the door of the car for her, gesturing in. "You're welcome whenever. Eight days a week, twenty-five hours a day!"

"And you never have to ask," her father said.

Riding in the back of the sedan, May kept both windows down for the breeze to blow through her hair. Sure, she lost a hair tie along the way, but what did it matter? Not only was she out of the literal woods and far away from Phoebe and her weirdness, but she would have a safe place to lay her heart to recover from her break-up. Best of all, she'd be way too far away to walk to T's house and do something unstable.

Along the way, her parents did what they always did best: they took every chance to dote on her.

How much AC did she want? Which radio station did she want? Was she thirsty? Hungry? Did she want anything along the way? Oh, there was a mall—did she want to go buy anything to help lift her mood? It was all the same stuff.

Her only request was as follows as a semi-direct quote from her Tumblr account: "Honestly? I need somewhere to pee. Something to eat. Something to drink. And then I want to shower and sleep for a million years."

Most of the way home, they stopped at a gas station to fuel up. While her dad manned the gas pump, her father leaned back to chat with her.

"You taking intro to philosophy this year?" he asked.

"Just for an elective," she replied.

"I think you'll like philosophy. You know me and Descartes were like this." He twisted his index and middle finger together.

"Trust me, dad—I heard your podcast. I know."

"It just happened to be that. . ." His eyes wandered just then and his voice trailed off. Reaching out, his hand went toward her. Then, he plucked something from the side of her backpack. "Whatcha got going on here, kiddo?"

Her mind still disoriented from the commotion, May watched him remove a piece of paper that had been stuck to the side of her bag. She honestly hadn't noticed it. Observing it in his hands, she saw the words 'files', 'otherworldy', and 'powerful beings' as snippets in a body of larger text.

"Oh, Phoebe must have dropped that," May said. "She's. . . into these. . . weird things. She brought a bunch of books and papers with her. It's strange, you can just throw that out."

But her father stared at this otherwise meaningless paper, a tremble in his hand.

"You hear me?" she asked.

His gaze snapped to her immediately. "Huh? Yes. Yes. I. . . Don't worry, honey, you'll make the team, next year."

"You weren't listening, were you?"

He folded the paper, tucking it into his pocket. She couldn't help but wonder why.