“Here goes nothing.” I go to lower my right foot to push off, only to realize that it’s stuck on the scooter. “What the—?” I look down to see Boris’s blue scales spreading over my feet. They unfurl like a second skin, until the cold sliminess has swallowed me right up to the calves. It feels like I’m encased in wet concrete. But at the same time it seems secure, as if I’ve been strapped on tight to a snowboard.

“Ahh!” Emmett shrieks, hopping from one foot to the other. “He’s eating you alive!”

Boris’s ears and wings start to flap, and I grip the handlebars. “Hold on tight, Em!” I yell. “I don’t think I’m the one driving!”

And sure enough, as soon as the words escape my mouth, we start to move. Fast. So fast I don’t even get a chance to close my mouth. The world blurs past us in dark blues and greens, and I’m glad it’s too early for any saram to see us. I’m pretty sure I swallow at least three flies.

We make excellent time and, thanks to the whooshing air, our clothes are now mostly dry and sand-free. I really can’t complain, but I wish we hadn’t left my stomach back at the beach.

When we eventually come to a stop at the pointy obelisk outside the Griffith Observatory, the sun has almost fully risen. It’s hard to tell without our phones, but I’m guessing it’s almost six a.m. I hope Cosette is an early riser.

The blue scales retract from my skin, and Boris lets go of my feet. And it’s a good thing, too, because as soon as Emmett and I stumble off him, we both hurl the contents of our stomachs onto the monument. I guess I didn’t leave mine at the beach after all.

Emmett groans and looks up apologetically at one of the faces carved into the Astronomers Monument. “Sorry, Galileo. But you’ll be happy to know the Earth still orbits the sun.”

With Boris tucked under my arm, Emmett and I make our way to the entrance of the cream-colored domed building. As we’d guessed, the main doors are shut tight. But taped to one of them is a poster advertising the Summer Camp for Future Astronomers program.

I study the building and grounds. “Let’s go around,” I say. “Maybe there’s a back entrance.”

We walk the perimeter of the structure, trying every door in sight, but each one is bolted shut. Eventually, there’s only one left to try.

“Here goes nothing.” I give the handle a slight tug, only to find that this door, like the others, is locked. “Nooo!” I cry, banging my head against the glass.

“Um, Riley?” a female voice calls out. “Riley Oh?”

I look up, startled.