I turned. She had my bag—and worse, she was holding a small velvet case.
My chest tightened. “Put that back.”
She ignored me, snapping it open. Sunlight caught the medal inside, flashing silver.
The chatter faded.
“Where’d you get this?” someone asked.
Lisa smirked. “Probably bought it somewhere. There’s no way she earned this.”
I stepped closer. “Give it back.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You really think I believe your little war stories? You can’t even handle fireworks.”
“That medal isn’t a prop,” I said quietly. “It stands for people who didn’t make it home.”
“It stands for a lie,” she shot back.
And before I could stop her—she dropped it into the fire.
The ribbon caught first, curling into smoke. The silver star sank into the burning coals.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then—
“NO!”
Eli ran forward.
“Aunt Lisa took it!” he shouted. “Mom earned that!”
He reached toward the grill—too close.
Lisa lashed out.
The crack of her hand echoed across the yard.
Eli’s small body flew backward, striking the concrete with a sickening sound.
He didn’t cry.
He didn’t move.
Everything inside me went silent.
I dropped beside him, checking his pulse, his breathing. Alive—but barely conscious. Head injury.
Around me, people stood frozen.
Lisa stood there, breathing hard. “He was being rude,” she muttered.
I didn’t argue.
I pulled out my phone and called for an ambulance.
Lisa laughed. “Go ahead. My dad runs this town. Who do you think they’ll believe?”
I said nothing.
When the police arrived, her father—Chief Reynolds—walked in like he owned the place.
Lisa rushed to him, spinning her version of events.
