CHAPTER THREE
1119 Words
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.
- Writer
