He looked at us earnestly and said, “You boys are very brave to do what you’re doing. Most folks would be using that thing on that there—what do you call it?” 

“LightYear,” Bones said. “It’s an app.” Yogi slapped his knee and laughed. “App—that’s what I call the mozzarella sticks I get at Kinchley’s before I eat two sausage ’n pepper pies!” He wiped the tears of laughter out of his eyes, then said, “But seriously, boys. Most people would use that thing to get rich or make themselves important.” 

“Yeah,” Bones agreed. “I’m pretty sure the Suits want to rule the world or something.” 

Yogi chuckled and pulled himself off the couch with a grunt. “Well, first things first. We’ve got to get you to Doc Lopez, make sure your cancer’s in check while you’re here.”

“I’m fine, Yogi, really,” Bones said, waving him off. “I think we just need to figure out how we can get back to Ridgewood, I mean, our Ridgewood.”

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