THE GPS TOOK US to a small condominium community tucked into a tree-lined neighborhood at the south end of San Jose. We parked along the sidewalk and filed out of Luke's SUV. I cringed when I thought about how we might appear to strangers. Eight teenagers wandering around looking like they were up to no good; that's what they'd see. And although Luke's leg had healed, his pants were b****y and torn. He caught me staring.
"Uh, I should probably change," he said, opening up the back of his Suburban.
A moment later he returned, wearing a pair of black sweats and tennis shoes. He looked ready to hit the gym.
"So, what's the doctor's house number?" asked Zander.
"B-13," I said with a wry smile.
Ruthie heaved an exasperated sigh. Wynona scowled, scooting a little closer to Luke. "That's no
