“Fascinating,” she said finally.
She leaned back in her seat, her eyes on him. They were filled with curiosity and wonder.
Oliver waited, his stomach squirming with anticipation.
Finally, Ms. Belfry tapped her chin. “May I see this compass of yours?”
He took it from his bag and handed it to her. She examined it very slowly. Then she became suddenly very animated.
“I’ve seen one like this, once before…”
“You have?”
“Yes. It belonged to Professor Nightingale, of Harvard. An old teacher of mine. The most brilliant man I’ve ever met.”
Her excitement was palpable. Oliver watched as she leapt out of her seat and hurried to the bookcase. She pulled down a textbook and handed it to him.
Curiously, Oliver looked at the book. He read from the front cover. “The Theory of Time Travel.” He gasped and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. “I… I don’t understand.”
Ms. Belfry took her seat again. “Professor Nightingale’s specialty was physics—with an emphasis on time travel.”
Oliver’s head spun. “Do you think he could be a seer? Like me?”
He’d thought there were no other seers in his timeline. But perhaps this Professor Nightingale was one. Perhaps that was why the compass had guided him to Ms. Belfry in the first place.
“Whenever he taught me about a new inventor, he talked as if knew them personally.” She held a hand to her mouth and shook her head in disbelief. “But now I realize he actually did. He must have traveled through time to meet them!”
Oliver felt overwhelmed. His heart began to beat wildly. But Ms. Belfry rested a hand on his, giving him comfort.
“Oliver,” she said gently, “I think you are supposed to meet him. I think the way to your parents, and to your destiny, lies through him.”
No sooner had she said it than Ms. Belfry gasped.
“Oliver, look.”
Just then, Oliver saw the dials on his compass were moving. One pointed to the symbol of an elm leaf. The second pointed to a symbol that resembled a bird. The third remained on the image of a graduation cap.
Oliver’s eyes widened with surprise.
He pointed to the elm leaf. “Boston.” Then to the bird. “Nightingale.” And finally to the cap. “Professor.” He felt a huge surge of excitement in his chest. “You’re right. I have to go to Boston. Meet Professor Nightingale. He has the next clue.”
Ms. Belfry quickly scribbled something into her notebook and then tore the page out. “Here. This is where he lives.”
Oliver took the paper and looked down at the Boston address. Was this the next piece of the puzzle in his quest? Was Professor Nightingale another seer?
He folded the paper carefully and placed it in his pocket, suddenly eager to begin his journey. He jumped up.
“Wait,” Ms. Belfry said. “Oliver. The book.” Professor Nightingale’s time travel book was lying on her desk. “Take it,” she added. “I want you to have it.”
“Thank you,” Oliver said, feeling touched and grateful. Ms. Belfry really was the best non-seer teacher he’d ever had.
He picked up the book and headed to the door. But when he reached it, he heard Ms. Belfry call out.
“Will you ever come back?”
He paused and looked at her. “I don’t know.”
She gave him a sad nod. “Well, if this is goodbye, then all that’s left to say is good luck. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Oliver Blue.”
Oliver felt a deep sense of gratitude in his heart. Without Ms. Belfry, he’d probably not have survived those miserable first few days in New Jersey. “Thank you, Ms. Belfry. Thank you for everything.”
Oliver ran out of the classroom, eager to get the first train to Boston to meet Professor Nightingale. But if he was leaving New Jersey forever there was one thing he needed to do first.
The bullies.
It was lunchtime.
And he had one more wrong to right in the world.
He hurried down the steps, the smell of greasy fries wafting up from the lunch room. He and Ms. Belfry had been speaking so long, it was now lunchtime.
Perfect, Oliver thought.
He headed to the lunchroom. It was full of students and extremely noisy. He saw Paul and Samantha, his tormentors from science class. They looked over at him and started pointing and whispering. Other kids turned too, all laughing at Oliver. He saw the kids who threw balls at him in the playground. The kids from Mr. Portendorfer’s class who reveled in the grouchy old teacher’s insistence on calling him Oscar.
Oliver scanned with his eyes until he found his target: Chris and his friends. These were the kids who’d hounded him during the storm. Who’d chased him into a garbage can. Who’d called him a freak and a weirdo and all number of horrible names.
They noticed him, too. The mean girl who wore her hair in severe braids started to smile. She nudged the lanky, freckled boy who’d watched with glee as Chris had Oliver in a headlock. As far as they knew, yesterday they’d chased Oliver through a storm, forcing him to hide in a trash can. Seeing them grin at him made him grit his teeth with a sudden wave of anger.
Chris looked up, too. Any hint of the fear he’d shown toward Oliver back in their living room had disappeared, now that he was surrounded by his bully friends.
Even from across the lunchroom, Oliver could lipread Chris’s words as he said to his friends, “Oh look, it’s the drowned rat.”
Oliver focused all his attention on their table. Then he tapped into his seer powers.
Their trays began to float up off the table. The girl jumped back in her seat, completely terrified.
“What’s going on?”
The freckled boy and the chubby boy leapt up too, looking just as fearful, making scared noises. Chris jumped out of his chair. But he didn’t look scared. He looked furious.
All around the table, other students started to turn to see what the commotion was about. When they saw the trays rising into the air as if by magic, they all began to panic.
Oliver moved the trays higher and higher and higher. Then, when they were about head height, he tipped them.
Their contents came raining down on top of the bullies’ heads.
See how you like to be covered in garbage, Oliver thought.
The lunch hall erupted into pandemonium. Kids started screaming, running all over the place, shoving each other in their haste to get to the exit. One of Oliver’s tormentors—covered head to toe in mashed potato—slipped in the beans that had been spilled. He skidded to the floor, tripping another as they ran.
Through the chaos, Oliver saw Chris standing at the other end of the hall, his narrowed eyes locked on Oliver. His face turned red with anger. He puffed out his huge bulking frame to make himself look more threatening.
But Oliver did not feel threatened at all. Not even slightly.
“You!” Chris bellowed. “I know it’s you! I always have! You have weird powers, don’t you? You’re a freak!”
He barreled toward Oliver.
But Oliver was already two steps ahead. He pushed outward with his powers, covering the floor beneath Chris’s feet with thick, slippery oil. Chris started to wobble, then stagger, then slide. He couldn’t keep his balance and fell flat on his