The age-thinned and frayed straps of the backpack dug into her shoulders, but she was afraid to put it down. Everything she owned was in there. Her passport was in there and the little money she'd scraped together before hitting the road. Inside it she'd wrapped everything in the plastic bags she'd smuggled into her room after her Mom came back from the supermarket. Maybe once this backpack had been weatherproof, but not now, now it was about as water resistant as a paper kitchen towel. It was older than she was and the zip got stuck sometimes, but it was all she had.