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Viv’s eyes flew open in alarm as I cursed, clutching my chest. “That was a close one.”

“What was that?” Viv cried.

“Lightning,” I said. “I think it must have hit really close by.”

I’d been tracking the distant flashes of lightning and counting the seconds until their accompanying booms of thunder in the back of my head all morning, but I’d gotten distracted by our conversation, and I hadn’t noticed how close they’d gotten.

“Don’t worry. We’re safe here. These houses have been here for literally centuries, and they’ve survived far worse storms. Plus, unlike in the U.S. where homes are all wood, here they’re all stone and plaster.”

“Why does that matter?” Viv asked, pulling her gaze from her open bedroom door to frown at me.

“Less fire risk in case the lightning strikes,” I answered with a confidence that I hoped she couldn’t tell was faked. Her head swung back to her door, and I glanced where she was staring intently, her head cocked to the side like she was listening for something. “What’s wrong?” I asked, a spike of fear shooting through me.

“Where’s Merry?” she asked in a terrifyingly calm voice.

“Playing with his LEGO in his room. Why?”

“He’s terrified of thunder,” she said. “Always has been. It’s why we ended up in your bed last night. So⁠—”

“Where is he?” I asked, dread pooling in my gut.

Lightning flashed outside her window again, so bright it left a jagged yellow line imprinted on my vision that I was still blinking away when an even louder boom than before shook the building hard enough to make Viv’s light fall over on her nightstand.

She let out a tiny shriek of surprise and jumped off her bed. Her eyes widened as she glanced at the heavy sideways rain pelting her window.

“What if—” she started.

“He wouldn’t—” I started at the same time.

The same thought dawned on us, and we turned to look at each other in horror.

“Where did Pipsqueak go?” Viv whispered hoarsely. “Pipsqueak?” she cried, running for the door.

“Merry?” I called. Please, just be playing where I left you. Please, just be playing where I left you, I chanted to myself as I raced after Viv.

I got to his room a second after her and almost crashed into her when she came to a dead stop in his doorway.

“He’s not there,” she said, her voice tinged with dread.

Toys were scattered across the floor with a little boy-sized clear spot in the middle of the mess, as though he’d vanished into thin air. I knew better, though. He had an uncanny ability to walk through a minefield of little toys without ever stepping on any. The rest of us weren’t quite as good at it.

“Check under his bed,” I said, nudging Viv. “Maybe he’s hiding.”

“You go check under his bed!” she snapped back. “You’re the grown-up!”

“Fine!” I huffed, steeling myself for the treacherous journey across Merry’s room. “Merry, sweetheart? Are you hiding under your bed? You can come out, if you are. I promise it’s safe out here,” I cajoled as I tiptoed around his discarded toys.

I made it all the way across without incident and got cocky at the end, dropping to my knees without making sure the ground was clear and barking a colorful curse word when my knee landed on a sharp building brick.

Biting back a few more, I rubbed my knee as I leaned forward to look under the bed. “Oh, for crying out loud,” I muttered to myself, reaching under the bed.

“What? Is he there?” Viv cried.

“Nope,” I answered, shaking my head. “But I did find the kitchen tongs that have been missing all week. And this.” I held up the tongs which I’d used to grab a moldy, partially eaten apple.

“Gross,” she said, making a disgusted face. “I’ll go check under your bed and in dad’s closet. You check his. I don’t want to know what he has stashed in there.” She turned and bolted for the stairs before I could protest.

The closet contained no further unpleasant surprises, and no little boy hiding from the storm.