I speed walk down the hallway, my eyes blurry from tears and my face bright red. Those jerks! The kids around me pretended not to see me and busied them self doing who knows what. I took a fast turn into the library and collapsed in the tiny corner in the back that I like to call my secret thinking corner. I cried silently letting my clothes get drenched from my salty tears. I could still feel those bullies laughs tormenting me and acting like I was as important as a school book or something outrageous like a flying feather. That's really unimportant. Here I go thinking again. The thinks are what get me bullied, screamed at by parents, barked at by teachers, but it probably could get me imaginary friends and take me places, like Solasollew. That's more specifically what got me in trouble. Thinking of Sollasollew. It's not unrealistic to think about Solasollew, it's the only place where I can be myself, you would never guess what life is like for a child to never see his dad, the mayor, and have only sisters as company. Sollasollew, it's a place where everything is perfect. I played my head back against the wall and thought about my thinks. They could be real. I just had to prove it. That would show them, all my thinks are true they just have to believe. I got up and without thinking scavenged the library for books on travel, wilderness survival, and dreams. I shoved three big books on the counter and the librarian checked them out, raising her eye brow. I gave a weak smile and raced into the hallway, putting my head down and my black hoodie over my head. As I got home unnoticed I grabbed a compass from my dads office and scissors, paper, pencils, a journal, and a map of Who. As I finished packing my clothing and my hairbrush. I zipped up my booking preparing to leave. "Son have you seen my- where are you going?" My dad asked walking down the stairs. I looked behind me "Dad I need to get out in the world, I need an adventure I need to leave the nest." My dad looked at me curiously. "Metaphorically" I called reaching for the door handle. "Son" "I'm sorry Dad" I whispered and walked out of the open door.