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and pulled on her clothes, noticing as she did that this was the last of her clean underwear. The jeans didn't matter—she had worn these for three days anyway—but she would have to wash underwear after school today. And socks.
    She found Sam standing in the hall, his hair damp and matted, his face bright pink, his yesterday's clothes wrinkled and wet.
    "I want my pajamas!" Sam yowled.
    Anastasia took his hand and led him to his bedroom. "It's morning, Sam. Time to put on clean clothes for school. You can't wear pajamas to school, silly."
    "I don't want to go to school," Sam whined as she began taking off his clothes. "I hate school."
    Never get sucked into an argument with a three-year-old, Anastasia remembered her mother saying. Because you can't win one. An adult will lose against a three-year-old every time.
    "I know," she said soothingly. "Sometimes I hate school, too. But we have to go anyway. There's a
law
that says you have to go to school." She pulled his shirt off over his head. "Now stop crying, because it makes you all sweaty."
    Then she stared at him. "Sam," she said, "what are all these spots?"
    Sam looked down at his own bare chest dotted with pink. It was so interesting that he stopped crying. "I've turned into a polka-dot person," he said. "Look at me, poking the dots." He began to poke each one with his finger.
    Anastasia turned him around. His back, too, was covered with spots.
    "Dad?" she called through the closed bathroom door. "Something's wrong with Sam. Something
bit
him! Could we have bedbugs?"
    Sam grinned. "Bedbugs," he said. "Millions of bedbugs."
    Dr. Krupnik came out of the bathroom, tying his tie. "Of course we don't have bedbugs," he said. Then he looked at Sam. "Holy—"
    "Holy moley." Anastasia completed it for him. She finished undressing Sam. "
Look.
Every inch of him."
    Now that he was the center of attention, Sam was completely happy. "Every single inch," he announced proudly. Naked, he began to dance around his bedroom. "Puff, the magic bedbug," he sang, "lived by the sea—"
    "What's his doctor's name?" Anastasia's father asked. "Didn't your mom leave a list with all the important phone numbers on it? Where is it? I'd better call the doctor."
    "He's my doctor, too, Dad," Anastasia said. "Dr. Nazarosian. I'll call him. He's in his office early. The list's right by the phone in your bedroom."
    Sam was still prancing around.
    "Do you feel okay, Sam?" Anastasia asked. "I need to tell the doctor all your symptoms."
    "Tell him I'm like a leopard," Sam suggested. "A spotted leopard." He began to crawl across the rug, growling. "Lookit me, being a leopard," he said. He grabbed the corner of the rug between his teeth and shook it back and forth with a ferocious growl.

    "Dr. Nazarosian," Anastasia said on the phone, "this is Anastasia Krupnik. I'm calling because—"
    "Anastasia!" he said heartily, interrupting her. "How
are
you? I haven't seen you in ages. You're one of my favorite patients because you're never sick. Don't tell me you're sick!"
    "No, I'm not. But my mother is in California, so—"
    "California! Getting a little sunshine, is she? Can't say I blame her. I'm getting pretty sick of this snow. Of course if I had time to take a vacation and do a little skiing, I might feel differently. Do you ski?"
    "No," said Anastasia, looking at her watch. She was going to be late for school
again.
"I'm calling because I'm in charge, and it's about Sam. Sam's -—"
    He interrupted her again. "Good old Sam—my very favorite patient, in all due respect, Anastasia. Remember the time Sam fell out the window and—"
    This time Anastasia interrupted
him.
"Dr. Nazarosian," she said, "Sam's entire body is covered with pink spots."
    He chuckled. "Not surprising," he said. "Not at all surprising."
    Anastasia was taken aback. Not surprising to be covered with pink spots?
She
found it surprising. What on earth would surprise Dr. Nazarosian? Blue spots, maybe? Green?
    "They're even on his ears," she went