And thats when he saw them. Just as he was transitioning into his daydreaming state, he noticed two people standing by the tree. A woman and a man who looked remarkably like him, like they could easily be mistaken for his parents. They had kind faces and they smiled at him as they held one anothers hands.
Oliver jumped back from the window, startled. For the first time, he realized that neither of his parents looked anything like him. They both had dark hair and blue eyes, as did Chris. Oliver, on the other hand, was the rarer combination of blond hair and brown eyes.
Oliver wondered, suddenly, if perhaps his parents werent his parents at all. Perhaps that was why they seemed to hate him so much? He looked out the window but the two people were now gone. Just figments of his imagination. But theyd looked so real. And so familiar.
Wishful thinking, Oliver concluded.
Oliver sat back against the cold wall, tucking himself into the alcove that was his new bedroom, pulling the covers up over him. He brought his knees up to his chest and clasped them tightly, and was struck by a sudden strange sensation, a moment of realization, of claritythat everything was about to change.
CHAPTER TWO
Oliver woke with a sense of trepidation. His whole body ached from sleeping on the hard floor. The blankets hadnt been thick enough to keep the cold from getting right into his bones. He was surprised hed slept at all, considering how anxious he was feeling about his first day at school.
The house was very quiet. No one else was awake. Oliver realized hed actually woken earlier than he needed to thanks to the dull sunrise seeping through the window.
He heaved himself up and peered out the window. The wind had wreaked havoc through the night, blowing down fences and mailboxes, and throwing trash all over the sidewalks. Oliver looked over at the spindly, crooked tree where hed seen a vision of the friendly couple last night, the ones who had looked like him and made him wonder if perhaps he wasnt related to the Blues at all. He shook his head. It was just wishful thinking on his part, he reasoned. Anyone with Chris Blue as their older brother would dream they werent actually related!
Knowing he had a little bit of time before his family woke up, Oliver turned from the window and went to his suitcase. He opened it up and looked inside at all the cogs and wires and levers and buttons hed collected for his inventions. He smiled to himself as he looked at the slingshot booby trap that hed used on Chris yesterday. But it was just one of Olivers many inventions and it wasnt the most important one, not by a long shot. Olivers ultimate invention was something a little more complex, and a whole lot more importantbecause Oliver was attempting to invent a way to make himself invisible.
Theoretically, it was possible. Hed read all about it. There were actually only two necessary components to make an object invisible. The first was bending light around the object so it couldnt cast a shadow, similar to the way swimming pool water bent light and made the swimmers inside look strangely squat. The second necessary component to invisibility involved eliminating the objects reflection.
It sounded simple enough on paper, but Oliver knew there was a reason no one had achieved it yet. Still, that wasnt going to stop him from trying. He needed this in order to escape his miserable life, and it didnt matter how long it took him to get there.
He reached into his case now and took out all the bits of fabric hed collected in search of something with negative refractive properties. Unfortunately, he hadnt found the right fabric yet. Then he took out all the coils of thin wire hed need to make electromagnetic microwaves to bend the light unnaturally. Unfortunately, none of them were thin enough. In order to work, the coils would need to be less than forty nanometers in size, which was an unfeasibly small size for the human mind to comprehend. But Oliver knew that someone, somewhere, someday, would have a machine to make the coils thin enough, and the fabric refractive enough.
Just then, from upstairs, Oliver heard his parents alarm clock jingle. He quickly packed away his items, knowing all too well that theyd go and wake Chris up next, and if Chris ever got wind of what he was trying to make, he would destroy all his hard work.
Olivers stomach groaned then, reminding him that Chriss bullying and torment were about to begin anew, and that hed better get some food in him before they did.
He passed the still broken dining table and went to the kitchen. Most of the cupboards were empty. The family hadnt yet had the chance to go grocery shopping for the new house. But Oliver found a box of cereal that had come over in the move, and there was fresh milk in the fridge, so he quickly made up a bowl and scarfed it down. Just in time, too. A few moments later, his parents emerged into the kitchen.
Coffee? Mom asked Dad, bleary-eyed, her hair a mess.
Dad just grunted his yes. He looked at the broken table and with a heavy sigh, fetched some packing tape. He got to work mending the table leg, wincing as he did so.
Its that bed, he muttered as he worked. Its wonky. And the mattress is too lumpy. He rubbed his back to emphasize the point.
Oliver felt a swell of anger. At least his dad had slept on a bed! Hed had to sleep on blankets in an alcove! The injustice stung him.
I have no idea how Im going to get through an entire day at the call center, Olivers mother added, coming over with the coffee. She placed it on the now tentatively fixed table.
You have a new job, Mom? Oliver asked.
Moving house all the time made it impossible for his parents to keep full-time work. Things at home were always harder when they were unemployed. But if Mom was working that meant nicer food, better clothes, and pocket money to buy more gizmos for his inventions.
Yes, she said, letting out a strained smile. Dad and I both. The hours are long, though. Todays a training day, but after that well be doing the late shift. So we wont be around after school. But Chris will keep an eye on you, so theres nothing to worry about.
Oliver felt his stomach sink. Hed prefer Chris to not be in the equation at all. He was perfectly able to look after himself.
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Chris suddenly bounded into the kitchen. He was the only Blue who looked refreshed this morning. He stretched and let out a theatrical yawn, his shirt riding up over his round, pink belly as he did.
Good morning, my wonderful family, he said with his sarcastic grin. He flung an arm around Oliver, pulling him into a headlock cleverly masked as brotherly affection. How are you, squirt? Looking forward to school?
Oliver could hardly breathe, Chris was holding on so tight. As always, his parents seemed oblivious to the bullying.
Cant wait he managed to say.
Chris let Oliver go and took a seat at the table opposite Dad.
Mom came over from the counter with a plate of buttered toast. She placed it in the center of the table. Dad took a slice. Then Chris leaned forward and snatched up the rest, leaving nothing for Oliver.
HEY! Oliver cried. Did you see that?
Mom looked at the empty plate and let out one of her exasperated sighs. She looked at Dad as if expecting him to step in and say something. But Dad just shrugged.
Oliver clenched his fists. It was so unfair. If hed not preempted such an event hed have missed another meal thanks to Chris. It infuriated him that neither of his parents ever stood up for him, or ever seemed to notice how often he had to go without because of Chris.
Will you two be walking to school together? Mom asked, clearly trying to sidestep the whole issue.
Cant, Chris said through his mouthful. Butter dribbled down his chin. If Im seen with a nerd Ill never make friends.
Dad raised his head. For a second, it seemed as if he was about to say something to Chris, to chastise him for calling Oliver names. But then he clearly decided against it, because he just sighed wearily and let his gaze drop back down to the tabletop.
Oliver ground his teeth, trying to keep his growing fury at bay.
Doesnt bother me, he hissed, glaring at Chris. Id prefer not to be within a hundred feet of you anyway.
Chris let out a spiteful bark-laugh.
Boys Mom warned in the meekest voice ever.
Chris shook his fist at Oliver, indicating quite clearly that hed get him back for it later.
With breakfast over, the family quickly got ready, and left the house to start their respective days.
Oliver watched as his parents got into their battered car and drove off. Then Chris stalked away without another word, hands in his pockets, a scowl on his face. Oliver knew how important it was for Chris to establish immediately that he was not to be messed with. It was his armor, the way he coped with turning up at a new school six weeks into the school year. Unfortunately for Oliver, he was too skinny and too short to even attempt to cultivate such an image. His appearance only ever added to how conspicuous he was.
Chris stormed ahead until he had disappeared from Olivers sight, leaving him to walk the unfamiliar streets alone. It was not the most pleasant walk of Olivers life. The neighborhood was tough, with lots of angry dogs barking behind chain-link fences, and loud, beat-up cars swerving along the potholed roads with no regard for the children crossing.
When Campbell Junior High loomed up ahead of him, Oliver felt a shiver run through him. It was a horrible-looking place made of gray brick, completely square, and with a weather-beaten facade. There wasnt even any grass to sit on, just a large asphalt playground with broken basketball hoops on either side. Kids jostled each other, wrestling for the ball. And the noise! It was deafening, from arguments and singing, to shouting and chatter.
Oliver wanted to turn around and run back the way hed come. But he swallowed his fear and walked, head down, hands in pockets, across the playground and in through the large glass doors.
The corridors of Campbell Junior High were dark. They smelled of bleach, despite looking like they hadnt been cleaned in a decade. Oliver saw a sign for the reception area and followed it, knowing hed have to announce himself to someone. When he found it, there was a very bored, angry-looking woman inside, her long red fingernails typing away into a computer.
Excuse me, Oliver said.
She didnt respond. He cleared his throat and tried again, a little louder.
Excuse me. Im a new student, enrolling today.
Finally, she turned her eyes from the computer to Oliver. She squinted. New student? she asked, a look of suspicion on her face. Its October.
I know, Oliver replied. He didnt need reminding. My family just moved here. Im Oliver Blue.
She regarded him silently for a long moment. Then, without uttering another word, she turned her attention back to the computer and started typing. Her long fingernails clacked against the keys.
Blue? she said. Blue. Blue. Blue. Ah, here. Christopher John Blue. Eighth grade.
Oh no, thats my brother, Oliver replied. Im Oliver. Oliver Blue.
Cant see a Oliver, she replied, blandly.
Well here I am, Oliver said, smiling weakly. I should be on the list. Somewhere.
The receptionist looked extremely unimpressed. The whole debacle was not helping with his nerves one bit. She typed again, then let out a long sigh.
Okay. There. Oliver Blue. Sixth grade. She turned in her swivel chair and dumped a folder of paperwork on the table. Youve got your schedule, map, useful contacts, et cetera, all in here. She tapped it lazily with one of her shiny red nails. Your first class is English.
Thats good, Oliver said, taking the folder and tucking it under his arm. Im fluent.
He grinned to indicate that hed made a joke. The side of the receptionists lip twitched up, just barely, into an expression that might have resembled amusement. Realizing there was nothing more to be said between them, and sensing that the receptionist would very much like him to leave, Oliver backed out of the room, clutching his folder.
Once in the corridor, he opened it up and began to study the map, searching for the English room and his first class. It was on the third floor, so Oliver headed in the direction of the staircase.
Here, the jostling kids seemed to be even more jostly. Oliver found himself swept up into a sea of bodies, being pushed up the staircase with the crowd rather than of his own volition. He had to fight his way through the swarm to get out at the third floor.
He popped out onto the third-floor corridor, panting. That was not an experience he was looking forward to repeating several times a day!
Using his map to guide him, Oliver soon found the English classroom. He peered through the little square window in the door. It was already half full of students. He felt his stomach swirl with anguish at the thought of meeting new people, of being seen and judged and evaluated. He pushed down the door handle and walked inside.
He was right to be scared, of course. Hed done this enough times to know that everyone would look over, curious about the new kid. Oliver had felt this sensation now more times than he cared to remember. He tried not to meet anyones eyes.
Who are you? a gruff voice said.
Oliver swirled to see the teacher, an old man with shockingly white hair, looking up at him from his desk.
Im Oliver. Oliver Blue. Im new here.
The teacher frowned. His beady eyes were black and suspicious. He regarded Oliver for an uncomfortably long time. Of course, this just added to Olivers stress, because now even more of his classmates were paying attention to him, and still more were streaming in through the door. A greater and greater audience watched him with curiosity, like he was some kind of spectacle at the circus.
Didnt know I was getting another one, the teacher said, finally, with an air of disdain. Wouldve been nice to have been informed. He sighed wearily, reminding Oliver of his father. Take a seat then. I suppose.
Oliver hurried to a spare seat, feeling everyones eyes following him. He tried to make himself as small as possible, as unobservable as possible. But of course he stood out like a sore thumb no matter how much he tried to hide. He was the new kid, after all.
With all the seats now filled, the teacher began his class.
Were carrying on with where we left off last class, he said. About grammar rules. Can someone please explain to Oscar what we were talking about?
Everyone started to laugh at his mistake.
Oliver felt his throat get tighter. Um, sorry to interrupt, but my name is Oliver, not Oscar
The teachers expression turned instantly cross. Oliver knew immediately that he wasnt the kind of man who appreciated being corrected.
When youve lived sixty-six years with a name like Mr. Portendorfer, the teacher said, glowering, you get over people pronouncing your name wrong. Profendoffer. Portenworten. Ive heard it all. So I suggest you, Oscar, ought to be less concerned about the correct pronunciation of your name!