Bones followed me outside and grabbed me by the shoulder. “It’s all right, Lump. Everyone’s just having a laugh. When lacrosse season comes, you’re gonna tear it up, you know that!” 

My head was spinning and my heart was pounding, but I couldn’t figure out why. It’s not like I haven’t heard jokes about my weight before, so what was going on? Then finally my brain caught up with me: Bones doesn’t have cancer. 

How could that be possible? We had wanted to go into the future to find the cure for cancer, because, I mean, at some point there had to be a solution to this whole cancer mystery.

But the LightYear app wouldn’t allow it: “Subject does not exist,” it had said. Bones couldn’t go any further into the future than ten months. After that, he didn’t exist. 

Instead of going ahead, though, we went forty years back, thanks to Bones’ dinosaur-sized feet. Was it the flash of the app that had zapped his cancer into oblivion, or had it disappeared simply because we had gone back to time when we didn’t exist, which meant Bones’ cancer didn’t exist either? I rubbed my eyes.

This was so confusing, it made my head hurt. 

Page 103