Bones stepped off of the pile of mulch and onto the grass. “Well, Officer Reilly, I was going to stop, but somebody must’ve messed with my brakes when we were in New York City this morning.” 

The police officer stared at Bones. “Did you say you were in the City this morning? It’s not even noon yet. How could you be . . .” He glanced at his watch, then back up at us, like he was trying to decide if he were liars or just plain crazy.

“OK, boys, let’s put the bikes in the trunk and head down to the station. We’ll call your parents and see what they think about you two skipping school.” 

Bones reached into his pocket and said to me, “Lump, my phone didn’t make it, did yours?” I patted my pocket; my phone wasn’t there either. For some reason, our cell phones hadn’t transported with us. I felt naked without it. 

Now Officer Reilly looked really confused. “Phones?” he said.

“Yeah,” Bones replied nonchalantly. “Can I use your phone to call my mom? She might be worried.” 

I nearly slapped my forehead. Our whole 1978 situation still hadn’t sunk in for Bones. I guess he was so worried about his mom (I called her Marita) that he forgot cell phones didn’t exist here.

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