He looked at me as if he were assessing a bad real estate investment.

“He wants to run a full diagnostic panel,” Richard said.

“A panel that costs two thousand dollars before insurance even kicks in.”

“I’m actually sick, Dad,” I said.

“We’re taking this one step at a time,” Richard said.

“Allison, pack up your prep books.

We need to go over your private tutor schedule before I meet with the doctor.”

Allison tapped her phone screen one last time, gathered up her huge books, and stood.