Морган Райс: The Orb of Kandra

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.

“Where have you been?” Mom demanded. “And what are you wearing?”

Oliver didn’t have an explanation for the blue workman’s overalls. But that didn’t matter because he didn’t get a chance to speak. Dad launched into a tirade.

“We’ve been worried sick! We called all the hospitals! Called the headmaster at Campbell Junior High to give him an ear-lashing! We even called the press!”

Oliver folded his arms, remembering the newspaper article in which they’d appealed for financial aid. It had happened in a different timeline but that didn’t mean if Oliver had not returned home this evening, it wouldn’t have happened in this one too.

“Of course you did,” he said wryly.

“Why weren’t you on the school bus?” Mom demanded. “Chris managed to catch it. Why didn’t you?”

“I think I know,” Dad interjected. “Oliver’s head was so far in the clouds he didn’t even think to. You know what he’s like, always lost in his imagination.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll have to call the school in the morning to apologize. Do you know how embarrassing that will be for me?”

Mom tutted and shook her head. “Where have you been? Wandering the streets? Aren’t you cold?” Then she folded her arms and huffed. “Actually, I hope you are cold. At least that way you might learn your lesson.”

Oliver listened to his parents’ tirades silently. For the first time their words bounced right off him. Their angry faces no longer made him tremble. Their harsh words didn’t sting.

Oliver realized how much he had changed. How much the School for Seers had changed him, not to mention discovering that the Blues were not really his family. It was like becoming a seer had wrapped an invisible bulletproof coat around his shoulders and now nothing could hurt him.

He stood before them confidently, waiting patiently for a pause in their rambling anger.

But before he got a chance to say his piece, thundering footsteps came from the staircase behind him. And there was Chris.

“What are you doing here?” he bellowed. “I thought you died in the storm.”

“Chris!” Dad scolded.

For a brief second, Oliver thought maybe his parents were going to stand up for him. Stand up to their bully son. But of course, they did not.

Oliver folded his arms. He wasn’t scared of Chris anymore. His heart rate hadn’t even increased.

“I was hiding. From you. Remember how you chased me down with your friends? How you threatened to beat me up?”

Chris pulled an incredulous expression. “I didn’t do that! You’re a liar!”

Mom buried her face in her hands. She hated arguing but never did anything to stop it.

Oliver just shook his head. “I don’t care if you call me a liar. I know the truth and so do you.” He folded his arms. “And anyway, none of that matters. I came here to tell you I’m leaving.”

Mom’s head popped up from her hands. “What?”

Dad glared at Oliver with horror. “Leaving? You’re eleven years old! Where are you going?”

Oliver shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But the thing is, I know you’re not my real parents.”

Everyone gasped. Chris’s mouth fell open. The whole room went silent.

“What are you talking about?” Mom cried. “Of course we are.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “No. You’re not. You’re lying. Who are they? My real mom and dad. What happened to them?”

His mom looked like she’d been caught out. Her eyes darted all over the place, as if searching for an escape.

“Fine,” she suddenly blurted. “We adopted you.”

Oliver nodded slowly. He thought her words would be hard to hear, but really it was a relief to get even more confirmation that the two people from his vision were his parents, not these awful people. That Chris wasn’t his real brother either. The big bully looked like he was about to faint from shock at the revelation.

Mom continued. “We don’t know anything about your real parents, okay? We weren’t given any information about that.”

Oliver felt his heart sink. He’d been hoping they would provide a piece of the puzzle of his identity. But they knew nothing.

“Nothing?” he asked sadly. “Not even their names?”

Dad stepped forward. “Not their names, not their ages, not their jobs. Adopted parents don’t get to know that stuff. It’s luck of the draw, you know! You could be the offspring of a criminal, for all we know. A lunatic.”

Oliver glared at him. He was certain his parents were neither of those things, but Mr. Blue’s attitude was still horrible. “Why did you even adopt me in the first place?”

“It was your mother,” Dad scoffed. “She wanted a second. I’ve no idea why.”

He sank onto the couch beside Mom. Oliver stared at them, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. “You never actually wanted me, did you? That’s why you treated me so awful.”

“You should be grateful,” Dad muttered, not meeting his eye. “Most kids get lost in the system.”

“Grateful?” Oliver said. “Grateful that you barely fed me? Never gave me any new clothes or toys? Grateful for a mattress in an alcove?”

“We’re not the bad guys here,” Mom argued. “Your real parents abandoned you! You should take it out on them, not us.”

Oliver listened without reaction. Whether his real parents had indeed abandoned him or not, he had no evidence either way. That was another mystery for another day. For now he would take Mom’s words with a grain of salt.

“At least the truth’s finally out,” Oliver said.

Chris’s mouth finally shut. “You mean to say that pipsqueak isn’t my brother after all?”

“Chris!” Mom scolded him.