I scrolled through the LightYear app. Maybe it had enough power left to get us back to the present. I put the cursor over the Solar Fusion Meter. It had 2 percent power. Not even close. A notification popped up on the screen: “No Signal. No Transport.” 

And now there was no signal. Of course, because there were no cell towers or cell phones in 1978. Now I was sweating profusely, but not from biking. I felt like the trees were closing in on me and the sky was falling.

Sure, I’m a world-class worrier, but this felt different . . . it felt worse. It was like combining the fear of being at school naked with the fear of knowing a giant monster is under your bed and about to attack you. The fear was that big. Could this be real? Were we really stuck in the ’70s with no way to get home? 

I looked up at Bones. His face was as pale as mine felt. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “Don’t worry, Lump.” He was worried about me worrying.

“What’s the app saying now?” he asked. But I didn’t answer. I was too busy watching a police car that had turned onto our street a few blocks up and was slowly driving down the middle of the street.

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