Penny’s yard is huge and has a million trees and a big birdbath fountain without any actual birds in it. Birds can probably sense meanness.

The yard is surrounded by a fence, and on the other side I can see miles of green grass and trees. Penny lives right next to Elm Ridge Golf Club. Not that I’ve ever been to Elm Ridge Golf Club. My parents don’t belong to a golf club. And I’ve never played golf before. But I have played mini golf. I’m pretty good at it, actually. I once got a hole-in-one on the last hole and won a free game.

A gust of wind blows through my hoodie. “It’s kind of cold,” I say. “If we have to play cards, maybe we should play inside?”

“No,” Penny says. “I want to play outside. It’s warm enough and it’s not that windy.”

It is so that windy. But whatever. If the cards start blowing away, I’ll get to say I told you so.

I kind of love saying I told you so.

We all sit down at the table on the patio and Penny starts dealing the cards. Seven to each of us.

“I play with five each,” I say.

“Me too,” Frankie adds, blushing.

“I play with seven,” Robin says.

Humph. Since when?

Penny shrugs. “Well, it’s my house, my rules,” she says.

She really is horrible. Why is Robin even friends with her? I don’t get it.

“Let me take a selfie of us before we start,” Robin says, and pulls out her phone.

Robin is obsessed with her cell phone. She’s not allowed to do much with it besides call her family and take pictures, but it never leaves her side. She has a totally jazzed-up fuchsia pink case, too. Robin’s one of the only kids in our grade with her own phone. Not even Penny has one yet! No wonder Robin loves it so much.

Robin lifts up the phone and holds it over us. “Smile!” she says.

We smile.

Snap.

“Fab,” Robin says.

Then we start the game. Penny flips over the jack of hearts, which means we can either play a jack or a heart or an eight. I have none of those. Great. Just terrific. I reach into the pile of cards and pick up the seven of clubs. Then the ten of diamonds. I pick up another five cards until I finally, finally get a heart. Yes!

Too bad I’m stuck with a million extra cards, though. The goal of the game is to get rid of all your cards.

Robin changes the suit to clubs. Frankie has to pick up a few cards, but then she plays the six of clubs, and then Penny plays the six of hearts, which means I have to play a heart again.

Argh! I pick up more cards. And more cards. I need a heart!

I can’t let Penny beat me after five minutes. I pick up another card. Five of diamonds. Humph.

“Did I tell you guys that I was invited to attend a super-elite art program at the museum downtown?” Penny says, smiling to herself.

I pick up another card. Four of diamonds. Argh.

“I want to do it, but I’m pretty busy with horseback riding,” Penny goes on. “Plus, I don’t think they’re advanced enough for me. I might have to apply to a special program in New York City over the summer. And —”

Is she seriously bragging about herself while we’re in the middle of a game? I turn over another card. Seven of clubs.

“— I’m sure I would get in. And I would get to stay in a college dorm! How fun would that be?”

Is she trying to distract me? She is. She so is. I turn over another card. Three of diamonds.

“I have to show you guys the paintings I did of the stable. They’re really good.”

“Penny!” I yell.

“What?”

“Can you stop?” I say.

Penny’s eyes widen in surprise. “Stop what?”

“Talking! You’re trying to distract us!”

“I am not,” she huffs. “How could I distract you, anyway? All you have to do is pick up a card. There’s no skill involved.”

She has a point. But whatever. “You’re making it hard to focus.”

Frankie and Robin look at me. Then Penny. Then back at me. It’s like they’re at a tennis game. I wish one of them would jump in, but I know they won’t. Frankie’s too timid to get involved and Robin doesn’t like to choose sides.

“Excuuuuse me.” Penny crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I’ll stop talking.”

“Thank you,” I say. I flip over another card. Two of spades. ARGH. Did Penny hide all the hearts on the bottom of the deck?

“Good focusing,” she says with a smirk.

I flip over another one. Queen of hearts. Finally! Wahoo! I did it! “There,” I say, but just as I’m about to slam the card down in victory, a gust of wind blows it right out of my hand. “Hey!” I cry as I watch the card fly over the patio and onto the grass. “Come back!”

“Just pick another card,” Penny barks.

“No way,” I say, jumping out of my seat. “It was the queen of hearts. I want that card.” But the card continues floating away from us like a kite without a string. “I told you it was too windy to play cards!”

“Forget the card, Abby,” Penny snaps. “Don’t be difficult.”

Difficult? Me? I’m the one who’s being difficult? I’m not the one being difficult! She is the queen of being difficult! “I’m getting it,” I say, and jump down the three steps off the patio.

“I’ll help!” Robin cries, and I hear her stomping down the steps behind me.

Hah! She’s helping me. Take that, Penny. Robin is following me. Not you. Me.

“Where’d it go?” I ask.

“It’s right there,” Robin says, pointing to the edge of the birdbath fountain.

“Good eye,” I say.

I’m about to snatch the card when another gust of wind comes, lifting the card up and sending it soaring right over Penny’s white fence, out of the backyard, and straight onto the golf course.

“It’s gone!” Penny calls. “Pick another card.”

There is no way, no how, no chance I am picking another card. I am getting that card. But how?

“Look, Abby,” Robin says, and I turn around to see her standing on the edge of the fountain. “The fence isn’t that high. We can climb over.”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes! I can definitely climb over the fence. I’ve climbed over a ton of fences before. And yay! Robin’s on my side. Not Penny’s! I step onto the fountain beside Robin.

“What are you doing?” Penny calls nervously from the patio.

“We’re going to get the card,” I say. “Ready, Rob?”

“Guys, be careful,” Frankie warns, biting her thumbnail and standing up from her chair.

“I’m not supposed to go onto the golf course,” Penny says.

“You’re not going,” I say. “We are.”

Robin winks. “One. Two. Three!”

We both climb on top of the fence, and then swing our legs over.

“Come back!” Penny hollers from the patio. “Right now!”

“I see it,” I say, happily ignoring Penny and pointing to the card on the ground. “I’m going to get it. You can just stay up here and —”

Before I finish my sentence, Robin has already jumped off the fence. “Wahoo!” she screams as she goes.

Okay, then.

I guess I’m going, too. I land on the grass with a thud. Ouch.

I stand up and reach for the card. Another gust of wind blows it out of my hand. Tricky little thing.

“Guys!” Penny cries. I turn to see her and Frankie standing behind us, the gate open behind them.

There was a gate? That would have been slightly easier.

I turn back around. From where we’re standing, we can see the entire golf course: short green grass, small hills, and tiny flags.

“There’s the card!” Robin cries, pointing. She starts running through the golf course toward one of the flags.

“What if she gets hit by a ball?” Frankie asks.

Penny shakes her head. “No one’s golfing right now. The course is closed this month. Too cold.”

“I told you it was too cold to be outside!” I can’t help but say. “Also too windy.”

“It’s not that windy,” Penny says as the wind blows her blond ponytail straight up in the air.

“Are you kidding me?” I cry.

Robin stops and whirls around. “I don’t know where it went!” she calls.

Then I see the card. Just sitting there on the grass, right beside Frankie.

“Grab it, Frankie!” I say.

“’Kay,” Frankie says and reaches out. Of course that’s exactly when the wind lifts the card off the ground and away from her. Frankie follows the card up a small hill. The card seems to take a flying leap over the hill … and then it disappears.

“Wait!” Frankie yells and runs after it. And then Frankie disappears.

“Frankie!” I yell, reaching the top of the hill. I don’t see Frankie anywhere on the horizon. Where did she go? What happened?

I take a few steps down and stop right before a massive hole in the ground. It’s about four feet across and deep. Very deep. So deep I can’t see the bottom.

What I can see is Frankie half dangling in the hole, her fingers digging into the ground, trying to keep herself from falling all the way inside.

Oh, no!

“Abby!” Frankie cries, her dark hair billowing behind her, her glasses crooked on her face. “Help me!”

“Oh my goodness!” I say, feeling sick. Why is there a huge hole in the middle of the golf course? Is that where the golf balls go? How does anyone ever get them out?

I reach down and try to grab Frankie’s hand and pull her up, but she’s too heavy.

“Penny! Robin!” I holler.

They appear by my side, huffing and puffing. When Robin sees Frankie, she lets out a strangled cry.

Penny grabs Frankie’s other arm, and Robin holds on to the back of her shirt.

“Come on, guys!” I shout.

“I’m trying!” Penny says.

“I can’t hold on!” Robin says.

Frankie is squirming like crazy. “Don’t let me fall,” she says, sounding panicked. “I don’t see a bottom!”

“We won’t,” I promise. I will not let her fall. I will not. I will NOT.

I lie down flat on my belly to try to get a better grip. But Frankie’s still sliding. Now Penny and I are each holding one of Frankie’s hands. Robin is still holding her shirt.

“Don’t let go,” I tell Frankie, my heart racing.

“I’m trying not to, but Penny’s hands are all sweaty!” Frankie says.

“My hands are sweaty?” Penny yells. “Your hands are sweaty!”

“My hands are definitely sweaty,” Robin says.

“Please save me,” Frankie begs.

“WE’RE TRYING TO!” Penny yells.

“We will,” I say, but Frankie’s sliding farther down. “Can you dig your feet into the sides to give you a better hold?”

She tries to kick her foot to the side, but the swinging motion makes her loosen her grip. The next thing I know, her hands aren’t holding our hands anymore. She’s not holding us at all. Instead, her arms and legs are spread out and she’s screaming — loudly — as she falls down the hole.

“HEEEEELLLLP MEEEEeeeeeeeeeee,” her voice echoes. It gets quieter and quieter the farther she falls.

Until we can’t hear anything at all.