An hour later, I was downstairs watching Danger Mouse.
I hadn’t figured out how to tell the truth about the necklace without actually telling the truth about the necklace, obviously. I’m not that brilliant. And even though I’d been sent to bed early, Mom had called me out of my room to eat. Greek parents can never really banish you to your bedroom because they think you’ll starve if you go an hour without eating. She also realized that lying in bed at 6:30 p.m. with a duvet over my head was a pointless punishment.
She came into the living room and said, “Kyria Maria just phoned again.” Her voice was gentler this time. It could still have knocked an elephant over, don’t get me wrong. She sat next to me but I was still angry, so I leaned away from her.
“She called a couple of your classmates after she talked to you. Someone told her who broke the window. She knows it wasn’t you.”
I sucked on my teeth. She could have called any of the eighteen kids in our Greek class, but if she only called a couple, one of them was sure to be Eleni. She must have told Kyria Maria I didn’t break it. Huh. Nice to know she still stood up for me.
I kept my eyes on the TV. A commercial came on about people living this perfect, happy life because they used the right laundry detergent. Which means commercials also lie. Lies, lies everywhere. You can’t get away from them.
“Lex,” Mom said, putting down her kanela tea, “if you knew who did it, why didn’t you say?”
“Because!” I said, turning to Mom in a rage. “Remember the car keys?”
Mom glared at me and held up her finger. “I told you then and I’m telling you now. The best thing to do—always—is tell the truth.”
“That’s not true, Mom,” I said.
“Course it is.”
“No, it isn’t! What if telling the truth hurts someone? Huh? Or you get someone in massive trouble and everyone hates you?”
Mom made a hmm face. Luckily, she didn’t get the hint about the truth hurting someone. It was a risky giveaway clue, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“I know what you’re saying,” she said. “But still. The truth is important.”
I glared at the TV. I wanted to say, Like the truth that you miss Aunt Soph so much, it’s breaking you in half? Like the fact that you cry all the time and won’t admit it? Like pretending the wedding is going to be fine when we all know it isn’t? But I didn’t because I knew saying any of those things would hurt her. A lot. And I didn’t want to do that.
“Ange!” Dad called from the dining room. “Phone! It’s Dimitri.”
Mom didn’t move. She just sat there rigid, like she was afraid.
“Mom,” I said confused. “Phone.”
“He wants to talk about the wedding,” Mom said in a flat robot voice. “And I’m going to tell him we’re not coming.”
“What?”
“He’s not going to like it,” she added. And out she went.
I sat there stunned.
We had to go to Dimitri’s wedding. We had to. Did she mean that?
On TV, Danger Mouse was tied up in a building. A big round bomb lay right beside him with the fuse sizzling and about to go off. The words CRUMBS! and CRIKEY! flashed on the screen in yellow comic font.
It’s about to explode, Danger Mouse! I shouted at him in whale song. Better do something quick!
You can talk! Danger Mouse replied in whale song. Even though he’s a mouse.
And he was right.
When I went into the kitchen, Mom was unloading the dishwasher with a crash and a smash. I’m surprised we have any plates left.
“Well?” I asked.
“He’s not agreeing to it. He said we have to go.”
Relief flooded over me. Course we have to go!
“But I told him we’re not and that’s final,” Mom said, and she continued trying to break all our dishes.