with a T-shirt wrapped around her waist. Her shoulders and face were sunburned.

 

She knelt and began writing in the surf with her finger. I tried to make out the

letters. I thought my dyslexia was acting up until I realized she was writing in

Ancient Greek.

 

That was impossible. The dream had to be false.

 

Rachel finished writing a few words and muttered, "What in the world?"

 

I can read Greek, but I only recognized one word before the sea washed it away:

nspasrx;. My name: Perseus.

 

Rachel stood abruptly and backed away from the surf.

 

"Oh, gods," she said. "That's what it means."

 

She turned and ran, kicking up sand as she raced back to her family's villa.

 

She pounded up the porch steps, breathing hard. Her father looked up from his

Wall Street Journal.

 

"Dad." Rachel marched up to him. "We have to go back."

 

Her dad's mouth twitched, like he was trying to remember how to smile. "Back? We