by Morgan Rice
“What’s the worst specialism for a Seer?” Oliver asked.
Walter pondered for a moment. “Sonar, probably. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m sure my test will show me that I’ve got it,” Oliver replied. “Either that or it will show me I’m not a Seer at all!”
Walter shook his head kindly. “You failed at your first attempt, that’s all. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Don’t get disheartened,” Simon added. “Try and try again.”
“Easy for you to say,” Ralph huffed, clearly growing frustrated with his own failure. “Your specialism is molecular. It’s a close second place after atomic if you ask me.”
They returned to their work. Despite his best efforts, Oliver had no success. He started to feel like the electrodes were hampering him. He understood that they were meant to teach him how to get his mind into the correct state, but he found the pulsing irritating.
He decided to attempt it without the electrodes. Switching his mind into the correct mindset wasn’t easy but Oliver did manage to emulate the same soupy, leaden feeling the pulse had given him. Only this time, his mind was clearer. Counting wasn’t such a struggle. He felt more in control, and the image in his mind of his muscled mouse was easier to hold on to.
Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…
Oliver opened his eyes. He squinted at the mouse, then tipped his head to the side, searching for any sign of transformation.
“It looks a bit bigger,” Walter said.
“No it doesn’t,” Oliver replied. He knew Walter was just trying to cheer him up.
Giving up, Oliver pressed the button that would unfreeze the mouse. He watched it come back to life, scurrying around the box and sniffing. Then suddenly it rose up onto its back legs so that it was standing tall, and flexed its arm muscles.
Oliver gasped. The mouse returned to scurrying around the box. Had he just been seeing things, or had he actually managed to change the atoms inside the mouse? Only a little, and nowhere near the wrestler mouse he’d been attempting, but it was still something! Maybe he wasn’t completely useless after all.
Oliver felt buoyed by his first tiny success. But he knew the test was still to come.
Mr. Lazzarato called an end to the class. Everyone packed up their things and started to leave.
Just then, a fist slammed down on the table in front of Oliver. He startled and looked up. He found himself staring into Edmund’s mean, black eyes.
“Next class we’re playing switchit,” he said, menacingly, “and I’m going to kick your butt.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Oliver followed his friends into the atrium for switchit practice. The room was just as enormous as the food hall and library. It looked in every way like an oversized basketball court except for the fact there were about a thousand different baskets at varying heights. It was enough to give Oliver a headache looking at them all.
But more than the size of the court, Oliver was most overwhelmed by the caged bars at one end of the room, behind which, lurking in the shadows, were the ostreagles. They looked just as mean as normal eagles, only they were ten times the size. The thought of riding one was very intimidating for Oliver.
He turned to his friends.
“How do you even play this game?” he asked. “There are so many hoops. Are there lots of balls as well?”
Walter, who’d made it clear that he thought of himself as some kind of switchit expert, began to explain the rules. “You use your powers to hide the ball or distort it in some way so that the others don’t know who’s got it and what hoop you’re throwing it into.”
Ralph added, “Of course, the best players use their powers to multiply the ball and score in several hoops at once.”
Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “You mean we don’t play in teams? It’s pretty much you versus everyone else?”
“Of course it’s not in teams,” Walter said as though it were obvious. “You get one point for blocking someone else’s attempt to score a bucket, and three points for scoring your own. The person with the most points after sixty minutes wins. So it’s a game of power, strength, and endurance.”
“And aggression,” Ralph interrupted. “I mean, it’s not like there are many Seers who make a career out of defending.”
Hazel nodded her agreement. “That’s true. The winner is usually the person who’s confident and aggressive enough to go for the shots.”
“I told you it was vulgar,” Simon added.
Oliver felt apprehensive. The rules of switchit made the sport sound a little ruthless, not to mention tiring.
“And this all happens on the back of one of those?” he asked, incredulously, pointing to the caged ostreagles. He didn’t like the thought of having a dozen of them chasing after him in one go.
“Yup,” Walter said, grinning. He slapped him on the back. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
Simon added, “And if you don’t enjoy it, then you’ll be in good company. I thoroughly dislike this game.”
Oliver followed his friends over to where the coach was leading the students, one at a time, into the caged room. Oliver joined the back of the queue, feeling his nerves intensify. From the front, Edmund and Vinnie were whispering and pointing at him. Edmund shook his fist and Oliver gulped.
As each of his friends disappeared into the dark room, his apprehension grew. Then it was his turn.
Coach Finkle was a tall, skinny man with curly ginger hair. He peered down at Oliver curiously as they walked in through the caged gates.
“You’re new,” he stated.
Oliver nodded. “And scared. I’ve never ridden an ostreagle.”
As he said it, one of the huge creatures loomed into view. He balked at the size of it.
“Well, there’s only one way to learn,” Coach Finkle said. He patted the ostreagle’s flank and it let out a chirruping kind of noise. “And that’s to just go for it. Mabel here is very gentle. She’s good with a beginner.”
Oliver trembled as he approached the formidable-looking Mabel. Her eyes were yellow and piercing. He touched her feathered side gently. She let out another chirrup.
Coach Finkle spoke again. “You’ll need this.”
He placed a helmet on Oliver’s head. Right away, Oliver felt a strange pulsing sensation between his ears.
“Not more training aids,” he groaned. “I’m the only one who has to use them! Everyone will laugh at me!”
“They all had to use them once too,” Coach Finkle told him flatly.
But Oliver knew that didn’t matter one bit. Whether the other students had needed aids or not was beside the point. He was the only one using them today. It made him different.
“Come on,” Coach Finkle said impatiently.
Resigning himself to wearing the helmet, Oliver climbed onto the back of the animal. It was surprisingly comfortable. Mabel’s feathers felt soft as he took hold of them in his fists, just by the base of her neck.
With everyone mounted, Coach Finkle went over to the gate and put his hand on a lever. “Ready, set, go!” He pulled the lever and the gate flew upward. The ostreagles shot forward.
Oliver held on tight, the wind whipping in his face from the speed. Then suddenly he was out of the shadows and onto the huge court, flying upward through the air. Above him he could see Hazel. To his side was Ralph. But his mind felt slow. The pulsing from the helmet made him feel sleepy and disoriented.
Suddenly, someone whizzed past him.
“Nice hat, dummy!” came Edmund’s voice.
Oliver glanced all about him, but Edmund had already gone. Then a voice called from above.
“It’s safest at the top!”
It was Simon’s unmistakable British accent. But all Oliver could make out was his pale blond hair.
He felt flustered. The helmet was practically blinding him. If Edmund really wanted to kick his butt, then his near-blindness would certainly give him the advantage!
Far below, Oliver could just m
ake out Coach Finkle holding a basketball. The coach threw it directly up into the air. The game was on.
The ostreagles reacted immediately. It was if the ball contained some kind of homing beacon. Everyone swooped for it. Oliver’s stomach flipped as Mabel soared through the air in pursuit.
“No, stop!” he yelled at her. All he could see were blurs. It made his stomach swill.
Suddenly, Mabel halted. She let out a snort that sounded very much like annoyance.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver told her, breathing slowly to calm his racing heartbeat. “I can hardly see a thing. If I go down there, I’ll get pounded!”
Mabel flew in slow circles. Oliver had no idea if she could understand what he’d told her but she was heeding his instructions nonetheless, letting out disgruntled snorts every now and again.
From his position high above, Oliver watched the frightening sight of the ostreagles as they all homed in on one person. He realized it was Walter they were pursuing. It was like watching vultures circling their prey.
I’m going to be terrible at this game, Oliver thought. Not only was his mind feeling far too slow to keep up, he didn’t want to even touch the ball if it meant all those birds bearing down on him!
He squinted, trying to see what was happening. Walter was moving through the atrium so fast Oliver’s slurred mind could hardly make out what was happening.
Walter’s specialism for magnetism clearly lent itself well to switchit. He used his power to imbue the ball with a strong magnet. It was attracted to one of the hoops and whizzed across the atrium so fast it was barely perceptible. Then it went straight through the hoop.
A claxon sounded. Walter punched the air with triumph.
“Three points, Walter Stroud,” Coach Finkle shouted.
But there was no respite, Oliver realized, because Coach Finkle already had a new ball in his hands. He threw it up and the game began again.
Beneath him, Oliver could feel Mabel growing more frustrated. She desperately wanted to join in the fun. But Oliver’s head spun. He couldn’t stay focused on anything around him. He could hardly tell who was whom, let alone whereabouts of the small ball in the enormous atrium. It was frustrating. There was no way he’d score any buckets like this.
“Come on, Oliver,” he heard Hazel call out. “Join in!”
He glanced over to see a blurred shape whoosh past him. The only thing that made it unmistakably Hazel was the color of butterscotch. His desire to join in grew even more. He didn’t want to be like Simon and miss out on all the fun.
Then suddenly someone was racing right toward him. Oliver felt a sudden electric shock zap through him. Mabel shuddered in pain and Oliver lost his grip on her feathers. There was a collective gasp as Oliver slid off her side.
Panicking, he grasped forward and gripped her talons by his fingertips. He was now dangling hundreds of feet in the air, barely clinging on. With all his strength, Oliver heaved himself back onto Mabel’s back.
As his adrenaline subsided, Oliver noticed another ostreagle hovering beside them. On its back, he could just make out Edmund.
“Told you I’d kick your butt,” he scoffed.
Oliver felt incensed. Edmund had used his powers to zap Oliver and his ostreagle. It was a dirty trick. He already had the upper hand without the helmet, which made it an even cheaper shot. Oliver wasn’t going to stand for it.
Oliver reached up and detached the helmet. Right away, the horrible pulsing feeling disappeared. His vision refocused. He locked eyes with Edmund then dropped the helmet to the ground.
“Think you can do this without your powers?” Edmund said with a smirk. “Good luck!”
“Powers or not, at least it will be a fair fight,” Oliver shot back.
Edmund glared at him coldly. Then he kicked his ostreagle’s flank and the creature darted away.
Within seconds, Edmund had the ball. He whizzed upward in a zigzagging motion. Little bolts of electricity trailed behind him, keeping the pursuing ostreagles off him. Then Edmund threw the ball toward a hoop. But instead of the ball going into the hoop, it completely vanished.
All the ostreagles stopped mid-flight, casting their hawkish gazes around the court, waiting for the ball to reappear somewhere else.
It did, right beside Hazel. She’d used her power to make the ball jump from one location to another. The claxon sounded out for Hazel’s block point and below Coach Finkle announced, “One point, Hazel Kerr.” Oliver was thoroughly impressed, not to mention glad that Edmund hadn’t scored.
Hazel went to grab the ball. But a sudden pulse went through the atrium, like the rippling of a pebble on water. It pushed the ball away from Hazel’s fingers and floated it right into Esther’s hands. Her ostreagle raced to the closest hoop. Esther dunked the ball for a bucket. The claxon sounded.
“Three points, Esther Valentini.”
“Awesome,” Oliver said aloud. He was getting a feel for the game now that he could actually see what was going on.
Far below, Coach Finkle was ready to launch a ball up to begin play.
Clutching onto Mabel, Oliver asked her, “Are you ready? I want to join in this time.”
She snorted happily.
Coach Finkle threw the ball. Mabel went flying. Oliver’s stomach flipped as he plummeted through the air.
Suddenly the ball disappeared. Mabel stopped soaring downward, making Oliver’s stomach flip again. Then the ball reappeared right beside Oliver. He suspected Hazel had done this, to give him a chance at a shot.
Mabel surged for the ball. From below, the other ostreagles also surged upward. Oliver didn’t have time to think. He grabbed the ball and threw it with all his might at the nearest hoop.
It soared through the air, right on target. But suddenly electricity zapped all around the hoop, completely melting it. The ball sailed onward, where the hoop had been, but no points were awarded to Oliver.
As the claxon sounded for the block point, Oliver glanced around to see who had blocked him. To his irritation, it was Edmund who’d blocked his point by melting the hoop. He punched the air with frustration.
“One point, Edmund Branner.”
“Nice try!” Hazel called to Oliver as she swooped past.
Oliver knew she’d done everything she could to help him but without using his powers, he’d never get any points.
Once again, Coach Finkle had the ball. He shouted up, “Cavendish! Get involved!”
From the highest point of the atrium, Simon’s ostreagle hovered. Simon waved languorously from its back. He clearly had no intention of joining in the game at all. But Oliver wanted to. He wanted to get a bucket. Three points would be more than Edmund had, and beating him would feel like winning to Oliver.
Coach Finkle threw the ball. Oliver charged downward on Mabel’s back. Edmund got to it first. He grabbed the ball and threw it immediately to the nearest hoop, which just so happened to be at Oliver’s right shoulder.
Everything happened in a split second. Oliver wanted to stop the ball from entering the hoop so much his mind immediately shifted to the place where he could summon his powers. Oliver cast his mind out to the ball, commanding its atoms to change.
Suddenly, the ball transformed in midair, turning from a solid ball into a strange viscous goo. It had been just a mere inch from the ring of the hoop but now it dribbled through the air and turned to a puddle on the ground.
The strain of using his fledgling powers made Oliver’s forehead bead with sweat. But it was worth the effort when he heard the claxon.
“One point, Oliver Blue.”
He’d gotten a point! He’d blocked Edmund’s shot! Even without the helmet, he’d summoned his powers! Oliver felt on top of the world. He’d never been good at sport, and yet here he was having the time of his life, actually exceling. He could get used to this.
“Go Oliver!” his friends started to cheer.
He looked over and Ralph flashed him a thumbs-up. Then he caught sight of Esther. She looked thoroughly impre
ssed and flashed him a gorgeous smile.
But there was very little time to celebrate. The ball appeared once again in Coach Finkle’s hands. Once more he threw it directly into the air.
Quick as a flash, Edmund was there. He looked more determined than ever as he caught the ball.
Oliver’s stomach flipped as Mabel plummeted downward, beelining, like all the other birds, for the ball in Edmund’s hands. But Mabel was faster than the others, more determined, as though their win earlier was driving her on. They pulled ahead of the rest of the flock.
As the distance between Oliver and Edmund diminished, Oliver could see the look of sheer concentration on Edmund’s face. He was clearly trying to summon his powers. By the looks of things he wasn’t succeeding. Sweat was rolling from his forehead. He glanced over at Oliver, his teeth gritted, his expression alarmed at the sight of the ostreagle bearing down on him at its frightening speed.
“Throw the ball!” Oliver exclaimed.
But Edmund was still gripping it, willing his powers to work.
Oliver realized what was going to happen a second before it did. He only had time to cover his eyes with his hands. Then CRASH. His ostreagle slammed into Edmund’s. Both boys fell from their ostreagles and began to plummet toward the ground.
Oliver let out a huge scream as the floor raced up to meet him. But instead of smacking into a hard ground he found the surface he landed upon was as soft as a feather pillow. He bounced gently, the floor yielding to his weight like foam. He realized Coach Finkle had used his powers to change the physical properties of the floor so that it was bouncy, because after a second of bouncing, the floor returned to a solid state.
Lying on his back, staring up at the two riderless ostreagles circling above, Oliver blinked in surprise. Then suddenly, Edmund appeared above him. His face was red with rage.
“You idiot!” he screamed, grabbing Oliver by the shoulders. “You flew into me on purpose!”
