After school the next afternoon, Victor was waiting in the Lamborghini by the gate. As he helped me into the car, I noticed a small white bag on the car’s dashboard.
“That bag is for you,” Victor told me as he climbed behind the steering wheel. “Findlay picked them up from Dr. Martin’s office this afternoon.”
“Is that my contact lenses?” I felt pangs of both anxiety and excitement as I picked up the bag and peeked inside.
The bag held two plastic cases, each with two round wells that unscrewed and a squirt bottle of contact solution.
I knew from an instructional video that the solution was for cleaning and storage of my contacts, but I was surprised to see that there were two pairs of contacts in the bag.
“Why two pairs?” I asked.
“Because contact lenses have a way of getting droppe
