“No, no,” Yogi said. “Stay here, I’m gonna get my truck. We’ll stop in and see Lopey.” He paused at the door and said, “He’s the best. When they told Lindy she had six months left to live, he helped her live a lot longer. You’ll be in good hands.” 

G barked in agreement. Yogi grabbed a set of keys from the wall, which was covered in key chains dangling from nails. “We’ll take the ’52 Chevy. It’s a special trip, so we’re gonna ride in style!” 

G trotted out the door with Yogi, and I watched through the window as they weaved around the piles of junk in the yard. When they disappeared behind a giant stack of old tires, I tapped Stevie’s phone and woke it up. Still no connection, and not enough transport power even if we did have a connection.

I swear I was going to break out into hives. There was too much to worry about. And to top it all off, Bones and I were supposed to be starting eighth grade any day now and I was supposed to be playing on the all-star lacrosse team. Life was so much simpler a few weeks ago.

A wave of homesickness washed over me. Instead of being stressed about making the game-winning goal, I was stressed about saving Bones’ life.

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