Doc Lopez and Bones joined us in the reception area, chat- ting with each other in Spanish. They both had huge, dopey looking smiles, like they had just left the dork convention. Doc Lopez grinned and said, “Well, this boy is as heathy as they come.” 

Doc must’ve seen my eyebrows shoot up because he added, “You seem surprised, Lumpy.” 

“But—but—but,” I spluttered, “how could he be healthy? He has cancer.” 

Doc Lopez put his arm around Bones and said, “Cancer? There’s none of that!” 

“All right!” Yogi exclaimed. “Come on, boys! Let’s get you to school!” He was beaming like we’d just been told that Bones hadn’t beaten the sniffles, not cancer. 

Yogi hauled himself up out of the orange couch while Bones pumped his fist in the air; I gave him the death stare. I didn’t care what year it was, going to school was nothing to get excited about. 

Doc Lopez laughed. “It’ll be all right, Lumpy. Maybe you can join the cross country team.” He smacked his stomach with the palm of his hand. “It’ll help you lose a few of those extra pounds.” 

They all laughed. “Real funny guys. Laugh it up.” I strode across the room, and stormed out the screen door, slamming it loudly behind me.

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