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Malaka ,” the man spat at Ari.
    Daphne made her way back to Evie and Popi. “Nice try, cousin,” Popi said as Daphne took her seat. “Did you really think you were going to stop that man?”
    Daphne lifted her trembling arms and pulled Evie close, then buried her head in the girl’s lavender-scented hair. “Are you okay, honey? That was just a silly man behaving very badly. Don’t let it upset you, all right?” Daphne leaned in to speak to Popi. “I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. Look at all those guys sitting over there. None of them did anything until I tried to.”
    “Isn’t that the way it is, Daphne?” Popi said. “They think they are the braver, stronger sex, but we know the truth, don’t we?”
    “Yes, yes, we do.” Daphne hugged Evie tighter and looked across the water. She could finally see the port of Erikousa getting closer.

Four
    E RIKOUSA
    S UMMER 1992
    Daphne had been gone since morning, and she knew that now, as the sun began to set, Yia-yia was beginning to worry. She could picture her grandmother waiting at home on the flower-filled patio, pacing the outdoor kitchen back and forth under the shade of the lemon and olive trees. Mama had always told Daphne that since the Lord had chosen to bless them with only one child, it was Mama and Baba’s divine obligation to keep Daphne safe. Back home in New York, even at fourteen years old, Daphne was never let out of the sight of her overprotective parents, let alone allowed to disappear for an entire day. But this was different. This was Erikousa. This was the island paradise where Daphne could spend her summer exploring, swimming, and doing exactly as she wished, as long as she made it home in time to share a meal with Yia-yia.
    “Yia-yia! Yia-yia!” Daphne shouted as she reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the patio where her grandmother waited.
    Yia-yia stood on the lush patio, her petite body overwhelmed by the shapeless black dress that was her uniform, her salt-and-pepper braids obscured by the black headscarf knotted under her chin. She looked down and scanned the garden path. A wide smile crossed her wrinkled face as she spotted her granddaughter.
    “There you are. Come. Come now. I’m making your supper,” Yia-yia said as she waved her arms up toward the sky.
    Daphne bounded up the steps two by two. Not bothering to change out of her wet swimsuit, she just wrapped her towel around her body and sat on a rickety old chair next to her grandmother. Daphne watched as Yia-yia dipped her wooden spoon into a pan of boiling olive oil and removed a perfectly browned batch of fries. The young girl snatched a crispy specimen from the steaming pile and nibbled as Yia-yia peeled and cut more potatoes with her small, sharp knife. It was incredible to Daphne how her fingers sliced and diced so quickly and effortlessly. Even after all these years of being indulged by Yia-yia’s cooking, Daphne was still amazed by the perfection of Yia-yia’s delicious round fried potatoes. They were divine, so much better than the greasy stick fries sold back home. Making perfect fries was just one of Yia-yia’s many talents.
    “How was the beach?” Yia-yia asked as she carried twigs to the outdoor cooking fire. She knew the oil needed to reach just the right temperature for the fries to come out crispy on the outside and slightly soft on the inside, the way Daphne liked them.
    “It was nice. Quiet. I went to the cove again. I like it when no one’s around,” Daphne replied as she reached over and grabbed another.
    “Why don’t you try the beach tomorrow? The other girls usually go swimming in the afternoon. It would be nice for you to have some friends to spend your day with, instead of always being alone or talking to an old woman like me. Okay, koukla ?” Daphne was Yia-yia’s koukla —her little Greek doll.
    Yia-yia knew that Daphne wasn’t like the other American girls who came for the summer and traveled in a pack, sunbathing,