It was a hot summer day. Amy was burning up in the back seat of the car listening to old country tunes. Her family was on the road from Pennsylvania to Arvada. Let's go back a little bit to moving day, when Amy's family was hectically loading up the moving truck and frantically running around the house packing up any last minute items. Amy was in her room saying good bye to her old house and checking it for any forgotten items. She peeked her head in to the closet and let her eyes adjust to the dim light. It looked empty, but huddled up in the corner was a 6 inch ball of fuzz. Amy picked it up and turned the fur ball over. Staring back at her was a familiar face. It was May-May. Amy had thrown her in her closet the day of the garage sale. She wanted to be away from her painful childhood memories and the humiliation from her friends. She had cried and cried over May-May but brought her self to the reality that it was a toy. And if she kept this toy, she would never have any real friends. So she threw the furby in the closet, giving the matted ball of fuzz one last look.