The digital clock on Tom’s bedside table read 10:16. His parents had only gone to bed fifteen minutes ago, but in order to catch the 10:31 Metro-North out of Yonkers, he would have to leave now.

Quietly, Tom rolled out from under his comforter, fully dressed in black like a ninja. The computer printouts, extra pens and notepads, a triple-sealed plastic bottle of hydrochloric acid, two steel shovels, a mallet, and one chisel had already been stuffed into a duffel bag under his bed. Tom had no idea what was waiting for him at mile nine, but whatever it was, he figured he was probably going to have to dig, hammer, or burn his way through something sturdy to get to it.

He held his breath as he slid the heavy duffel bag out into the open, careful not to let the shovels clank against each other.

“Phase one complete,” Tom mumbled to himself.

Phase two: escape.

Tiptoeing toward the bedroom door, he opened it an inch at a time, braced for any telltale whispering or rustling from his parents’ bedroom, but all he could hear were the faint sounds of the local TV news coming through their door.

Then, with his shoes in hand and the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, he stepped into the upstairs hallway.

All night, Tom had been at the computer, researching the history of the New York railroad system. As his bedtime came and went, he could feel the scratch behind his eyelids and the heaviness in his bones. He’d have to keep his wits sharp tonight, and that wouldn’t be easy.

Though the Edison family’s narrow Victorian home had a back staircase, a hidden ladder, a gabled attic, a basement plus root cellar, and a functioning dumbwaiter, the one thing it didn’t have was an easy escape route. There was no sturdy ledge under Tom’s bedroom window, and it was a good twenty-foot free fall to the street. The only ways out were the obvious routes: front door or kitchen door. Tom chose the front.

It took him a full three minutes to creep down the main stairs. After each creak or squeak, he’d catch his breath, frozen in the darkness, praying he hadn’t tipped off his parents, who were probably just dozing off right about now. The living room was a minefield of half-packed boxes, furniture, book piles, and the most dangerous obstacles of all, Rose’s strewn toys. One false move would send Tom crashing to the ground for sure.

After what felt like six lifetimes, he finally reached the front door, stepping through and locking it ever so gently behind him. Outside, the neighborhood was settling down for the night. All along the line of modest homes, lights were being snapped off and doors bolted.

As he continued along the sidewalk, all Tom could hear was the mosquito-like buzz from the streetlights. But no sign of life. Once he’d reached the end of the block, he was welcomed by darkness. And then …

Blink, blink, blink the flashlight signaled in the distance.

Tom practically keeled over with relief as he darted across the street to where Noodle and Colby were crouched behind a row of shrubs, waiting for him.

Like Tom, they were dressed head to toe in black and, like Tom, they both looked sleepy and nervous all at once.

“Ready?” he asked, his breath cold in the sharp spring air.

“Yup. Let’s do this.” Noodle adjusted his black baseball cap low over his eyes as they headed in the direction of the Yonkers train station.

Their journey to Hoboken was complicated, with three transfers each way and little room for error. If they missed a single connection, if one subway or train was more than five minutes late, the entire plan would unravel, and they’d be busted for sure.

Tonight would actually be the second time the three of them had pulled an all-nighter. The last one was on Halloween, also the same night as Colby’s thirteenth birthday. Noodle had decided it would be fun to watch six straight hours of zombie movies to see how scared they could get. Sure enough, all of them had made it to see the sunrise, simply because they’d been too terrified to fall asleep.

“According to my research,” Tom informed them as they jogged toward the station, “the Lackawanna Line was one of the first interstate railroads ever to have originated out of New York City.”

“And by my math,” added Colby, “mile nine, on the old route, will put us a ways away from the riverfront. Somewhere between Palisades and Central Avenue.”

As they turned onto Buena Vista Avenue, Noodle was the first to see the Metro-North train pulling into the station.

“Wait!” he yelled as the three of them started sprinting. “Hold that train!”

The brakes swooshed to a stop as Tom reached the station. The heavy duffel bag knocked hard against his legs, slowing him down, as Noodle and Colby slipped into the departing train.

“Come on!” they yelled.

Tom dashed onto the platform, heaving his bag between the train’s closing doors. Once it began pulling out of the station, Tom had to run to keep up with it—but he couldn’t get through the doors.

“Hit the emergency brake!” Tom yelled.

“We got it,” Noodle called back, as he and Colby pulled on the doors with all their strength, securing it open by two inches.

If he didn’t go for it now, he’d miss the train. Tom inhaled and lunged at the door. He got his torso through, but the doors locked around his waist like a mechanical shark.

“Hold on!” Colby commanded as she and Noodle each grabbed one of Tom’s hands and pulled him in the rest of the way.

Fifteen minutes into the night’s adventure, and they’d almost tripped up at the gate.

They collapsed into the train’s vinyl seats. Colby couldn’t help laughing. “At least now we’re all wide awake.”