by Morgan Rice
“Preposterous,” he sneered.
Just then, Oliver noticed a small mouse had scurried out from the shadows in the corner. It sniffed the spilled coffee on the floor.
“Look!” Oliver cried.
Armando turned his gaze to the mouse. It licked the coffee spill. Then in an instant, its whole body went stiff and rigid.
It fell to its side, dead.
Everyone froze. The guards stopped dragging Oliver.
They all turned to Armando.
Armando stared at Lucas, and slowly, his expression changed. It became pained. A look of betrayal.
“Lucas?” he asked, his voice heartbroken, disbelieving.
Lucas’s face flushed with shame.
Armando’s face hardened, and slowly, he pointed a finger at Lucas.
“Take him away,” he instructed the guards.
Immediately, the guards released Oliver and rounded on Lucas.
“This is madness!” Lucas screamed as they roughly pinned Lucas’s arms behind his back. “Armando! You’ll believe this scrawny little boy over me?”
Armando said nothing as the guards dragged Lucas away.
The old man’s face contorted with rage. He screamed, looking as deranged as Hitler had when Oliver had broken his bomb.
“This isn’t over, Oliver Blue!” he yelled. “I’ll get you one day!”
Then he was dragged through the door and disappeared from sight.
Oliver let out a deep breath of relief. He’d done it. He’d really done it. He’d saved Armando’s life.
He looked up at the old inventor, standing there in the chaos of his office looking shocked and stunned. For a long moment, they held one another’s gaze.
Then, finally, Armando smiled.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to see you again.”
CHAPTER TWO
Malcolm Malice took aim with his crossbow. He steadied himself. Then he let it fly.
It sliced through the air at lightning speed before smashing into the bull’s-eye. A perfect shot. Malcolm grinned.
“Great work, Malcolm,” Coach Royce said. “I’d expect no less from my star pupil.”
Filled with pride, Malcolm handed him back the crossbow and went to stand beside the rest of his classmates. They narrowed their jealous eyes at him.
“Star pupil,” someone mimicked.
There was a smattering of laughter.
Malcolm ignored their teasing. He had more important things to think about. He’d only been at Obsidian’s for a few months but already he’d leapfrogged kids who’d been here for years. He was a powerful seer. Atomic—the strongest kind, with a rare blend of cobalt and bromine.
So what if none of the other kids wanted to hang out with him? He’d been friendless before coming to Obsidian’s. It didn’t make much difference to Malcolm if it remained that way. He wasn’t here for friendship anyway. He was here to excel, to become the best seer he could possibly be, so that when the time came he could crush those Amethyst losers into dust.
Suddenly, he felt something smack against the back of his head. It stung and his hand instinctively went to it. When he took it away, he saw a dead bee in his palm.
Someone had used their powers on him. He turned sharply, glaring for the culprit. Candice was barely hiding her smirk.
Malcolm narrowed his eyes. “You did that.”
“It was just a bee sting,” she replied sweetly.
“I know it was you. You have a biological specialism. If anyone did it, it was you.”
Candice shrugged innocently.
Coach Royce clapped his hands loudly. “Malcolm Malice. Eyes to the front. Just because you can do this easily doesn’t mean you can mess around while your classmates try. Show some respect.”
Malcolm sucked his cheeks in. The injustice stung just as much as the bee had.
Malcolm tried to focus on his classmates as they took turns practicing their aim. It was a usual gloomy day at Obsidian’s, with a light fog hanging in the air, turning everything misty. The large playing field stretched all the way up to the imposing manor house that was Mistress Obsidian’s School for Seers.
Candice went up to take her shot. The arrow went flying over the top of the target and Malcolm couldn’t help but smile at her misfortune.
“This is exactly the sort of skill you need to perfect,” Coach Royce called out. “When it comes to fighting the Amethyst seers, it’s this kind of mastery that really knocks them for six. They’re so focused on their seer specialisms, they’ve forgotten all about good old-fashioned weaponry.”
The corners of Malcolm’s mouth tugged even further upward. Just the thought of kicking the sappy seers at Professor Amethyst’s school delighted him. He couldn’t wait until the day he was finally face-to-face with one of those losers. Then he’d really show them who was boss. Show them why Obsidian’s was the better school. Why it deserved to be the one and only school for seers.
Just then, Malcolm noticed some of the kids from the second year coming out onto the playing fields, hockey sticks in hand. He noticed Natasha Armstrong amongst them. She was in the private study sessions he’d been attending at the library, the ones for gifted students like him. Though at twelve he was the youngest there, the others were kind to him. Natasha especially. She didn’t tease him for being smart. And she shared the same hatred toward Professor Amethyst as he did.
Natasha looked over and waved. Pretty dimples appeared in her cheeks. Malcolm waved back, feeling his own cheeks growing warm.
Just then, Malcolm heard Candice’s velvety voice whisper in his ear. “Aw, look. Malcolm’s got a crush.”
Malcolm kept his gaze ahead and ignored her taunts. Candice was only being mean because he’d rebuffed her advances. Her spite came from a place of jealousy—that an older girl, one as beautiful and talented as Natasha Armstrong, could be interested in him.
As the other class began their hockey match, Malcolm’s gaze went up to the vast imposing Victorian manor house of Obsidian’s School, all the way to the turret at the top. He could just make out the dark figure of Mistress Obsidian standing at the window. She was looking down at her students. Then her gaze fixed on him.
He smiled to himself. He knew she was keeping tabs on him. She’d hand-picked him for a special mission. Tomorrow, he would have a meeting with Mistress Obsidian herself. Tomorrow, she’d tell him all the details of his special mission. Until then, he could tolerate the bullies and teasing. Because soon, he would be their hero. Soon, the name Malcolm Malice would be known to every seer in every timeline. He’d be in all the history books.
Soon, he would be known the universe over as the one who’d destroyed the School for Seers once and for all.
CHAPTER THREE
Relief coursed through Oliver’s body. Armando remembered him after all. Despite all his actions in the past changing this timeline, somehow his hero had not forgotten who he was.
“You… you remember me?” Oliver stammered.
Armando walked over to him. His gait was straighter, his chin tipped higher. He was better dressed, in dark slacks and a shirt that gave off an air of self-assurance. This was not the same Armando who’d given Oliver refuge the night of the storm; the hunched, scruffy, secretive man who’d spent decades living under the label of “zany.” This was a man who held his head high with pride.
He patted Oliver’s shoulder. “I remember years ago, in 1944, you told me it would all make sense in seventy years’ time. And now it all does. Lucas has been going against my back for years.” He looked away with a troubled expression. “To think he wanted me dead.”
Oliver felt a pang of grief. Armando had trusted Lucas and Lucas had betrayed him in the worst way imaginable.
“But that is in the past now,” Armando replied. “Thanks to you.”
Oliver felt a surge of pride. Then he remembered his conversation with Professor Amethyst. It wasn’t over yet. There was more work to be done. The work of a seer was an endless task. And his destiny was
intertwined with Armando’s. He just didn’t know in what way.
Thinking of Professor Amethyst sent a shard of pain into Oliver’s heart. He touched the amulet with his fingers. It was as cold as ice. Returning to the School for Seers was not an option. He’d probably never return. Never see his friends again: Walter, Simon, Hazel, Ralph, and Esther. He’d never play switchit again or walk the corridors held up by the kapoc tree.
Armando gave him a kind smile. “Since we’ve never technically met, perhaps I ought to introduce myself. I’m Armando Illstrom, of Illstrom’s Inventions.”
Oliver snapped out of his sad reverie. He shook Armando’s hand, feeling warmth spread through his whole body.
“I’m Oliver Blue. Of…”
He paused. Where did he belong now? Not the School for Seers, nor the factory in this new reality where he and Armando had never met. And most definitely not his home in New Jersey with the Blues, who he knew now were not his real parents.
Sadly, he added, “Actually, I don’t know where I belong.”
He looked up at Armando.
“Perhaps that is your real mission, Oliver Blue?” Armando said in a soft, firm voice. “To find your place in the world?”
Oliver let Armando’s words sink in. He thought about his real parents, the man and woman who appeared to him in his visions and dreams. He wanted to find them.
But he was confused.
“I thought my mission in returning was to save you,” he said.
Armando smiled.
“Missions are multilayered,” he replied. “Saving me and finding out who you really are—the two are not mutually exclusive. After all, it is your identity that led you to me in the first place.”
Oliver pondered that. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps his return in time was not as simple as one mission; perhaps it was fated for a number of reasons.
“But I don’t even know where to begin,” Oliver admitted.
Armando tapped his chin. Then his eyes suddenly lit up.
He hurried over to one of his many desks, clicking his fingers. “Of course, of course, of course.”
Oliver was puzzled. He watched curiously as Armando rummaged in a drawer. Then he straightened up and turned to Oliver.
“Here.”
He walked over and placed a circular bronze object in Oliver’s hands. Oliver inspected it. It looked ancient.
“A compass?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
Armando shook his head. “On its surface, yes. But it is something much more. An invention I’ve never been able to decipher.”
Oliver stared at it in awe, at the myriad dials and strange symbols on its surface. “Then why do you own it?”
“It was left on the steps of my factory,” Armando said. “There was no note to explain where it came from. My name was on the package but I realize now I was not the intended recipient. Look on the other side.”
Oliver turned the compass over. There, etched into the bronze, were the letters O.B.
Oliver gasped and almost dropped the compass. His gaze snapped up to meet Armando’s.
“My initials?” he said. “How? Why? Who would send you something intended for me?”
Armando took a deep breath. “I was supposed to be a guide for a seer, Oliver. You. I got it wrong at first, thinking it was Lucas. But when you arrived in 1944 and showed me your powers, I realized my mistake. I was cautious after that, waiting for a seer to come to me. Oliver, this compass was left on my doorstep eleven years ago. On December second.”
Oliver gasped. “That’s my birthday.”
Armando delivered the final blow. “I believe now that this was left by your parents.”
Oliver felt like he’d been punched. He could not believe it. Was he really holding a little piece of them in his hands? Something that had belonged to them, that they had sent on to Armando for safekeeping?
He whispered under his breath, “My parents?”
Surely it was a sign. A gift from the universe herself.
“What makes you so certain it was from them?” Oliver asked.
“Look at the dials,” Armando told him.
Oliver’s gaze tipped down. He saw that amongst the dozen or so dials, only one was pointing directly at a symbol. The symbol reminded Oliver of Egyptian hieroglyphics in style, scratchy black line drawings. But what it was depicting was clear. A man and a woman.
Oliver was in no doubt now. This was definitely a sign.
“What else do you know?” he demanded of Armando. “Did you see them leave the package? Did they say anything? Say anything about me?”
Armando shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid I know nothing more, Oliver. But perhaps this will help guide you in your quest to find out where you truly belong.”
Oliver’s eyes fell to the compass again. It was so strange, covered in symbols and dials. He may have no idea how to decipher it, but he knew it was important. That somehow, it would be a part of his mission to find his parents. To find out who he was and where he came from. Just holding a part of them in his hands gave him strength to search.
Just then, he noticed that one of the dials was moving. Now it was hovering over three squiggly lines that made Oliver think of water. He reached forward and rubbed his thumb against the symbol. To his surprise, as the dirt lifted, he saw that the symbol beneath was colored. The water lines were made in the most vivid, brilliant blue.
“I know where to start,” Oliver said decisively.
Blue. The Blues. His so-called parents. The man and woman who’d raised him as their own. If anyone had any answers about where he came from, it would be them.
And besides, he had a score to settle.
It was way past time to finally put Chris in his place.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the dark and stormy evening, Oliver headed out of the factory and along the streets of New Jersey. Debris from the storm lay strewn across the sidewalks, blowing in the wind that still blew strongly.
As he walked, Oliver was shocked to see that although everything was the same in terms of the buildings, roads, and sidewalks, nothing looked as it had before. The whole area had been transformed. It looked newer, cleaner, more affluent. There were shrubs and flowerbeds in the front yards rather than broken down washing machines and beat up cars. There were no potholes in the asphalt, no rusted, abandoned bikes attached to the street lamps.
Oliver realized that the fact that Illstrom’s Inventions had not closed down meant many local people had kept their jobs. The knock-on effects of his actions in the past seemed very far reaching. Oliver felt somewhat overwhelmed by the enormous responsibilities that came with being a seer. Just one change in the past seemed to affect everything in the future. But he also felt a sense of pride because things had changed for the better.
Oliver waited at the bus stop, its sign shiny now instead of rusted. The bus arrived and he climbed onboard. This one didn’t smell of onions and greasy fries like the one of his old timeline, but of lingering aftershave and polish.
“Aren’t you a bit young to be out this late?” the driver asked.
Oliver handed him some money for the fare. “I’m just heading home now.”
The driver looked concerned as Oliver took his seat.
Even the drivers are nicer than in my old timeline! Oliver thought.
As the bus pulled away, Oliver tried to remind himself what moment in time it was that he’d be returning to. As far as Mr. and Mrs. Blue were concerned, Oliver had failed to return from school on the bus during the storm. It was such a strange thing to wrap his head around. For Oliver, he’d had a whole adventure. He’d gone back in time and come face-to-face with Hitler, played a crazy game on the back of a genetically spliced creature from the year 3000, and made friends with kids from all different eras. And most important of all, he’d learned that he had a mom and dad, real ones, not the mean Blues. As far as they were concerned, Oliver had failed to come home from school during the storm and he doubted they’d even be relieved to see
him back in one piece. They’d probably just complain about the worry he’d caused them.
As the bus jostled Oliver, he took Armando’s gift out of his pocket. It filled him with awe to look at. The brass was burnished and it was in need of a good polish. But other than that, it was a remarkable instrument. There were lots of arrows and dials and at least a hundred different symbols. With a sense of wonder, Oliver tried to imagine his parents with the compass. What had they used it for? And why had they sent it to Armando?
Just then, Oliver realized he’d reached his stop. He jumped up and rang the bell, then hurried to the front of the bus. The driver pulled over and let him out.
“Careful, kid,” he said. “The winds might start up again any second.”
“I’ll be fine, thank you,” Oliver told him. “My house is just there.”
He hopped off the bus. But the scene that met his eyes took his breath away. It was not what he expected at all. The once rundown neighborhood looked much nicer than when he’d left. It didn’t look like the sort of place his parents could afford. He was suddenly struck with the fear that perhaps this was no longer his home at all.
Quickly, he consulted the compass. The dials were still pointing to the sketchy image of a man and woman, as well as the wavy blue lines. If he was reading it correctly, then this was the right place. This was still his home.
Heart beating with apprehension, Oliver opened the garden gate and went up to the front door. He tried his key and was relieved to find it fit the lock. He turned it and walked inside.
It was very dark in the house, and very quiet. All Oliver could hear was the ticking of a distant clock and soft snoring. He realized it was nighttime so everyone would be asleep.
But as he walked into the living room, he was startled to discover both his parents inside. They were sitting on the couch, both their expressions pale. They looked disheveled, like neither had even attempted to go to bed.
Mom leapt to her feet. “Oliver!” she cried.
Dad dropped the telephone he’d been clutching in his hands. He looked at Oliver like he was seeing a ghost.
