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tube dipped underwater for a moment and I accidentally blew bubbles? Not only would I get caught, but I’d die with inky blue lips. Real heroic.
    Hold it together, Zeke…
    I heard noises above the surface, but couldn’t make them out. The men were clearly shouting. Frustrated at something. The flashlights had come to rest directly above my hiding spot. I breathed in and out as slowly as I possibly could. The pen tube was incredibly slim and still tasted kind of nasty. I only had a few more seconds before my arms would cramp up.
    Then the lights were gone. The shouting was growing distant. I peeked my eyes above the surface. The goons were walking back up the riverbank toward the car. They were leaving.
    â€œMr. Le Carré is going to be pretty peeved,” one of the goons said.
    â€œ You were in the backseat with him. He’s a freakin’ kid, and you couldn’t restrain him?”
    â€œLay off; there’s a reason Mr. Le Carré sent three of us. This isn’t an ordinary kid.”
    â€œWe know that now,” the driver said. “We only have one choice.”
    â€œNo…him? You’re going to call him? ”
    The goon said the word him like “him” was the last person you’d ever want to meet in a dark alley.
    â€œWe can’t. He can kill Lance with his pinky finger.”
    They were too far away. I couldn’t make out what the driver was saying. All I heard was something that sounded like, “ Call hag rock. ”
    I didn’t know what a “hag rock” was, and even though it sounded silly, if it was bad enough to have these goons quaking in their penny loafers, it was bad enough to make me want to get the heck away from it.
    I waited until the car had driven away, then slowly swam to the riverbank, launched myself onto the muddy grass, and breathed in deep, thankful gulps of air. I sat there in the mud and gloom for what must have been an hour. I wanted to make sure the goons were gone—and that they weren’t coming back. Every so often I would hear the roar of traffic, the honking of horns, see glimpses of headlights. And each time, I hunkered down, ready to dive back into the murky depths should the goon squad realize I had been able to shake them.
    When I was reasonably certain they were gone, I stood up. I shivered. The night air was cool, but my soaked clothes only made it worse. I took off my shirt and wrung it out. Then I took off my pants. They were caked in grass and leaves and grime. I washed them off in the river, then tied them around my waist. They would dry while I walked.
    The whole night seemed surreal. Just a short while ago I had been twirling spaghetti around my fork, ready to hunker down and study ancient Rome, and now here I was, rolling around in the dirt, evading a bunch of evil dudes who may or may not be serious in doing me bodily harm.
    I had no idea where I was. We had been driving for between thirty and forty minutes before the, um, spaghetti incident. My best guess was that I was between twenty and thirty miles away from home. I didn’t have a phone on me, or any money or identification. All I had were my wits.
    Which meant I was kind of screwed.
    Come on, Zeke, I thought. You’re not as dumb as you think.
    Okay. I used to love reading about constellations. Stars and their alignment in the sky. I used to peruse maps of the sky, dreaming of becoming Sagittarius, the Archer, and doing battle with the Hydra, the deadly Water Serpent.
    I looked up, trying to use the map of the sky to determine where I was. I scanned the thousands of tiny specks, looking for a clue, something that would allow me to gain my bearing.
    Then I saw it. Auriga, the Charioteer. At ten times the size of the sun, Auriga is one of the brighter constellations. I couldn’t miss it for the world.
    Then, slightly above and to the right of Auriga was Perseus, named after one of Zeus’s children (it also happened to be the name