Page 39 - StickyPinesBlackHoleLake

compass, he took hold of the oars on either side and propelled himself due north.
Soon, Milo was rowing in a comfortable rhythm. The summer he’d spent training with Harvard’s crew team really seemed to be paying off. Dad was right about one thing: it pays to be well rounded.
It was eerily quiet out on the lake, with no sound but the rush of water as Milo paddled. To cheer himself up, he started whistling the first song that came into his head, which happened to be the theme to the 1950s TV show Lassie. “PHEW-EEEE-OOO, WOO-EEE-EEE-WOO- WOO...”
He rowed faster, his whistles echoing across
the glassy water, a song reaching out into the
abyss. Milo was near the middle of the lake, quite
far from shore, when he noticed that his feet
didn’t seem to be getting any drier. He stopped
whistling and looked down. There was a puddle
in the bottom of the boat up to his ankles. His
stomach turned as he realised that the boat was
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