Lily's escape was successful. All she had to do was gather her things and make herself invisible while walking down the hall. It's a talent that she's had since birth. Somehow, when she concentrates really hard, she can make her skin change color. She's played around with this skill on several occasions, but she never thought that she'd have to use it. She's never had a reason before now.

With her backpack secure on her shoulders, Lily strolls across the island. It's not exactly a pleasant walk. Every sound makes her jump, and every flitter of movement causes her to camouflage instinctively. She's not supposed to be here. If her mother were to find out . . . Well, she wouldn't understand, would she? She hadn't gone through the arduous nightmare of preschool.

. . . Or had she?

Lily knows that her mother is smart. She's both smart and educated, while her father is only one of those things. She would have had to have gone to preschool. Was she teased as much as Lily? No, of course not. Why would anyone tease her mother? Lily has always believed that her mother is the most beautiful person she's ever seen. She is also strong and fierce and powerful, so it's unlikely that anyone would get in her way. But what if they had tried? What if Lily's mother had gone through the exact same thing, and by running away, Lily was proving that she was a coward?

But all of that was impossible. Try as she might, Lily couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would hate her mother. Logically, that would mean . . .

Lily slows to a stop. She is starting to figure things out, and she doesn't like the conclusion she's coming to. If people are teasing her, there has to be a reason, and that reason must be that there is something wrong with her. Is it the fact that she eats plants instead of meat? No, her mother and father do the same, and everyone loves them. Is it something about her personality? No, the other children hated her before they even met her. What was it, then?

When Lily hears a frog ribbit, she realizes that she's near a pond. Forgetting about her troubles, Lily skips over and peeks through the cattails. She doesn't spot a single animal, but she notices something else: her reflection. A beige-skinned, blonde-frilled stegoceratops is staring back at her. She looks like both her mother and her father, but also like herself, which makes sense. Too much sense, in fact. If she's not quite like her mother and not quite like her father, that means she's different. Logically, this would indicate that the lack of respect she receives is based on the way she looks, which means . . .

She's ugly.

Lily gazes at her reflection, touching her face with worry. From the creases around her lips to the bumpy not-quite-plates on her back, not a single part of her looks like her mother or father alone. She's a mishmash of two beautiful people, but somehow, she came out wrong. It's like mixing all the colors on a palette: no matter how pretty the original paints were, all that will come out of them is an ugly brown.

Falling on her rump, Lily buries her face in her arms and starts crying. She doesn't even care that she's making sound. Her shoulders shake hysterically, and she finds that she can no longer hold in her sorrow. She's ugly. She's ugly. She's a disappointment to her parents and the whole world.

Her parents . . .

Lily's mother often says that she's pretty. In fact, she sometimes says that she's perfect. How could Lily be ugly if her mother doesn't think she's ugly? Her mother is always right, after all. It makes no sense!

With a frustrated groan, Lily pulls off her backpack and undoes the zipper. She pulls the plastic stegoceratops out and stares at it. She knows that it's wrong to steal, but she couldn't let the poor thing stay in that dreadful place. The kids were so mean . . .

As Lily turns the toy around in her hands, a second thought dawns upon her. If the children don't like this toy- a stegoceratops that represents the epitome of beauty- maybe there is something wrong with being a stegoceratops in general. But her mother is a stegoceratops . . .

Lily grabs her head and screams. This is all so confusing. Her mother is beautiful, but Lily and this stegoceratops are not, according to the other children. What's the difference? Is it because this toy has no front horn? Lily has a front horn, just like her mother. Is it because her mother has a reddish frill? No, that can't be it . . .

Lily gives a frustrated cry and throws her toy to the ground angrily. Tears stream down her cheeks, and she whimpers pathetically.

"I hate preschool! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!"

She sobs for what feels like an eternity, wallowing in her sorrow. When the blur of tears has cleared from her vision, she sees her toy lying in the grass. Gasping for air, she picks him up and gives him a hug.

"I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . ."

She sniffles and gives him a kiss.

"I think you're handsome, even if the others don't."

Lily stands up, brushing herself off.

"We don't need them. We'll find our own way."

It almost looks like her toy is smiling at her remark. Taking this as a sign, Lily lifts her head and marches into the forest that borders the other side of the pond. She is so wrapped up in her quest that she doesn't notice a warning sign as she struts past it.