“Yogi,” the principal said disapprovingly. “I’m sure Aunt Lindy wouldn’t want you sleeping in a car.” 

Aunt? The principal was related to Yogi’s wife? Yogi laughed. “It’s fine! The ’48 Packard Custom Eight Victoria is surprisingly comfortable.” 

The principal sighed and said “OK, fine, you win, Yogi— but just this once. Don’t go gettin’ used to it.” She wagged her finger at him and smiled. 

Yogi laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t.” “Now then”—Kara stood up and walked around her desk toward the door—“we’ve got the boys’ schedules all prepared and I’ll escort them to their first class, it’s already in session.”

The principal smiled and spread her arms wide. “Mathematics!” 

I groaned. “You’ll love it, CJ,” she said. “We have a brand new teacher, fresh out of college. Her name’s Abigail Apostolu and she’s wonderful.” 

Bones snorted. “Lump, it’s Mrs. Apostolu!” He threw back his head and clutched his stomach, roiling with laughter. 

Why he thought this was funny I had no clue. “Oh, you know her?” the principal said. “She got married just last month. How do you know her?” 

“Because we came from—” I elbowed him in the gut. “What Hank is trying to say,” I interjected, “is that our math teacher back home is also named Mrs. Apostolulu. Small world, isn’t it?” 

The principal stared at us, her eyebrows raised. “We, uh, call her, uh, Mrs. Lulu for short,” I said, digging my hole even deeper.

Bones snorted so hard he blasted a snot rocket out of his nose. 

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