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R U still there?
BRB, I type.
I keep wanting to ignore the Dr. G thing, but I can’t. It’s stuck in my head now.
Maybe it’s legitimate, I tried to tell myself. Maybe it’s just a real, live doctor who does online consultations.
What did one dead puppy say to the other dead puppy?
I don’t care, I answered. GTG. TTYL, I told him, and then I added, IGSINTDRN. I closed the IM window, taking a little pleasure in the fact that Ira would spend hours trying to figure out what that meant.
I watched a string of other ad ba
It took me to a very professional-looking page that asked me to enter my symptoms. Did I have symptoms? Well, I was overdue for new shoes, and the ones I had were too small, so my toes have been hurting. I entered Toes hurt. Then it asked me about twenty other questions, all of which I answered as honestly as I could.
Are your toes discolored?
No.
Do you live in a cold climate?
Yes.
Are your ankles swollen?
No.
Have you been bitten by a rodent?
Not to my knowledge.
When all the questions had been answered, the website made me wait for about a minute, my anticipation building in spite of myself, and then it gave me a bright blinking diagnosis.
You may be suffering from rheumatic gout complicated by lead poisoning.
To avoid amputation or death, seek a full diagnosis,
available here for $49.95.
All major credit cards accepted.
When I clicked no thanks it took me to a screen that offered pills to relieve my symptoms, which also had the favorable side effect of enlarging muscles and other things.
I tried it three more times. My growling stomach was intestinal gangrene. The crick in my neck was spinal meningitis. The tan line from my watch was acquired melanin deficiency. All could be further diagnosed for $49.95, and all could be treated with the same pills.
I did a lot of pacing that evening. So much that Christina, buried in her homework, actually noticed.
“What’s up with you?” she asked as I paced past her room.
I considered telling her, but instead I just asked, “Have you ever heard of Dr. Gigabyte?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It told me my zit was late-stage leprosy.”
And, grasping at my last straw of reason, I asked, “What if it is?”
“Please, God, let it be true,” Christina said. “Because a leper colony would be better than this.” Then she turned her attention back to her math book.
There are no words to describe the muddy mix of things you feel the moment you realize your friend probably isn’t dying, but instead is co
I still had no proof, only suspicion—after all, Gu
I truly hoped his illness was fake. I’d be relieved if it was—and yet at the same time, the thought was already making me mad. See, I had wasted all that time collecting months for him, thinking I was doing something noble—something that might make his limited time a little brighter—and he accepted those months without the slightest hint of the lie. If this was a con, then everyone had been taken in—there was even that stupid time thermometer by the main office. Sure, I’d be thrilled to know he wasn’t dying—but I couldn’t deny the dark river of anger ru
12. Repossession Is Nine-tenths of the Law, The Other Tenth Is Not My Problem
Mr. Ümlaut was home that night. I had hoped he wouldn’t be, because his presence added an even greater air of tension. His Lexus was in the driveway, but not for much longer, because it was being hooked up to a tow truck.
Good, I thought. If his car is in the shop, maybe he won’t go ru
He stood there in an undershirt, in spite of the cold, watching his car as it was raised. His hands were in his pockets, and his shoulders slumped.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly. “I need to talk to Gu
“Yeah, yeah—he’s inside.”
He didn’t look at me when he spoke, or take his hands out of his pockets, and I got the feeling that if I had asked to see Attila the Hun, his response would have been, ‛Yeah, yeah—he’s inside.”
The front door was open a crack. I pushed it all the way open and stepped inside. Gu
Kjersten noticed me first, but she didn’t smile and say hello. In fact, she didn’t seem happy to see me at all. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t entirely thrilled to see her either, but I told myself not to judge things until I had all the facts.
“Hi,” I said, trying to sound as casual as humanly possible, “what’s up?”
“Antsy, this isn’t a good time.”
Well, call me callous, but I had a mission today and would not be put off by a family squabble. “Yeah, but I need to talk to your brother,” I told her.
“Please, Antsy—just come back later, okay?”
“This can’t wait.”
Kjersten gave a resigned sigh, then threw a sofa pillow at Gu
“Good, you’re just in time to witness this pivotal moment of our family’s history,” said Gu
Kjersten threw another pillow at him. ‛You’re such an idiot!”
“I’m here to talk about Dr. G,” I said, cutting to the chase. “Or should I say, Dr. Gigabyte?”
Then his cool expression hardened until he looked like a stubble-free version of his father. That’s when I knew my suspicions were right. It was all there in that look on his face. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.
“I think there is.”
He pushed past me. “Talk all you want to Kjersten—I’m sure you’d much rather talk to her anyway.” And he was gone, bounding up the stairs. A second later I heard a door slam.
I turned to Kjersten, but she wouldn’t look at me. Not that she was intentionally ignoring me, but she clearly had bigger things on her mind at the moment. Personally, I didn’t think a family argument was bigger than her brother faking a terminal illness. It occurred to me that in my conversation with Gu