I was placing our precious notebooks neatly on the blanket and smoothing the wrinkles left by Anastasia’s big spinachy boots when suddenly I heard a slump-crunch.

I spun my head around in horror.

Eleni had tripped over the stupid hoppy thing and was lying sprawled on the ground. I gasped and felt my stomach lurch. I saw Aunt Soph dart toward her in panic, but she stopped midway because Anastasia was giggling and pulling Eleni up. I wanted to scream at Anastasia that it was so not funny. Not for Eleni. But something stopped me. If Eleni wanted to get sick because of a stupid hoppy thing, then that was up to her, wasn’t it?

I squeezed my hands together until they were white.

Wasn’t it?

What if it wasn’t?

I watched in case I had to run over and help her. A cloud lingered overhead and the sky turned a dull dark gray, or maybe that was just in my head.

Once she got her breath back, Eleni stumbled toward me and flopped on the blanket, panting. “Should…have come. So…much…fun.”

“You OK?”

“Yep,” she said wheezing. “That…hopper…is so cool… How nice is she? I…totally…love her.”

“Mmm.” I glared at Anastasia. She was jogging over to where Nicos (my brother) and Elias (Eleni’s brother) were playing soccer, and the other kids were playing Truth or Dare: I could tell because my cousin Kallie always dares people to walk in the sea with their shoes on, and my sister Kat was at the edge, about to wade in. I saw Kallie whisper in Anastasia’s ear, which was bad news. I wondered what dumb dare it was going to be this time.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out. Eleni was still lying on the blanket, panting, when Anastasia rushed over to one of the picnic tables, grabbed something, and ran toward the sea. After the dash came a flash, then a gasp from the other kids, who scattered in all directions.

Eleni sat up and asked, “What was that?”

I shook my head. That couldn’t have just happened. It couldn’t have.

I was still letting it sink in when, two minutes later, Dad started roaring in his megaphone voice, “For crying out loud! Where are the car keys?”

My eyes opened wide, like I was having goldfish lessons. Dad was not going to like the answer to that question. Not one little bit.

Oh, I knew where they were, all right. I’d seen Anastasia grab them off the picnic table and hurl them backward over her head. I’d heard them fall with a dip-plop and watched round ripples wrinkle the surface of the water. And I’d seen Anastasia clap her hands over her mouth and race down the beach. But it happened so quickly. The adults had been doing a million other things: fussing over foil, rustling packages, and making snapped-box sounds.

“Andy!” Mom screeched, like it was his fault. “The koubes are in the car!” She was desperate to show them off after all her hard work making them.

“Yeah, that’s right, Ange,” Dad bellowed, “panic about the food. Who cares if we can’t get home tonight? The koubes are stuck in the car!”

Uncle Christos burst out laughing.

“I’m not panicking!” Mom shouted. She was totally panicking. She’s very dramatic, my mother. If she was on the stage, she’d be accused of overacting, but that’s how she is in real life.

I sat there, paralyzed, thinking, oh em gee. Should I tell them?

“Check your pockets!” Mom yelled at Dad. “What about the cooler bag?”

“They were right there!” Dad said, pointing at the picnic table.

I watched, feeling sicker and sicker.

“You OK, Lex?” Eleni asked. “You’re turning pale.”

I had to tell them the truth. I had to. The truth was high and holy and hummed with luminous light, a little like a nun version of Tinker Bell. And telling the truth would make me happy, too. It would make everyone happy.

Hadn’t I just learned that?