me here. So I’m optimistic.”
Esther grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
They reached the end of the bridge and headed along the main road. The traffic was very busy here, so they took one of the many side alleys that ran parallel to it.
They were only halfway along the alley when Oliver noticed a group of boys, a little older in age than him and Esther, lingering together in the shadows. He felt an instant stab of danger.
As he and Esther got closer to the group, the boys suddenly looked up and fixed their eyes on them. They began to nudge each other and whisper, clearly talking about Oliver and Esther. Their mean glares made it obvious they weren’t friendly.
“Uh-oh, looks like trouble,” Esther said, clearly having spotted them as well.
Oliver recalled the bullies he’d dealt with back at Campbell Junior High. He didn’t feel anywhere near as daunted approaching the kids as he once would have been. But he felt Esther draw closer to him. She seemed intimidated.
“Nice overalls!” one of the boys sneered.
The others began to laugh.
“What are you?” chimed in the next. “A chimney sweep or something?”
Oliver kept his eyes averted. He hurried his pace. Beside him, Esther did the same.
“Hey!” the first boy shouted. “I’m talking to you!”
Suddenly, the group surrounded them. There were five boys in total, forming a circle around Oliver and Esther. Esther looked extremely stressed by the situation.
“Please,” she whispered to Oliver under her breath. “No fighting. I don’t think my shield is strong enough for five.”
But Oliver was calm. He’d seen Esther’s strength. And he had his powers, too. Between the two of them, no one could hurt them. No mortal, anyway.
Oliver kept his chin high. “Excuse me,” he said, politely. “Please let us through.”
The main boy, the tallest of the bunch, folded his arms. “Not until you empty your pockets. Come on.” He held his palm out. “Cell phone. Wallet. Hand it over.”
Oliver stood his ground. He spoke in a cool, determined voice. “I don’t have a cell phone or a wallet. And even if I did, I wouldn’t give them to you.”
From beside him, Oliver heard Esther’s voice, barely above a whisper. “Oliver. Don’t provoke them.”
The main boy barked out a laugh. “Oh really? Then I’ll just have to get them myself.”
He went to lunge for Oliver.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Oliver said.
Immediately, Esther cast out one of her shields, providing a barrier around them. The boy slammed into it. He looked confused. He tried again, lunging forward. But the impenetrable barrier stopped him, like bulletproof glass.
“What are you waiting for, Larry?” the third boy goaded. “Get him!”
“I can’t,” Larry stammered, looking increasingly confused. “There’s something in the way.”
“What are you talking about?” the fourth boy asked.
He, too, launched himself forward. But he slammed into Esther’s barrier and let out a grunt of pain.
Oliver looked over at Esther. She was doing brilliantly, but he could see the strain on her face as she tried to hold the barrier in place. He needed to do something to help.
Oliver retreated into his mind, visualizing the wind whipping through the fall leaves, turning them into tornados. Then he pushed the image outward.
At once, the fallen leaves began to swirl. Columns of wind went up into the air, twirling into tornadoes. Oliver conjured five, one for each of the boys.
“What’s going on!” Larry yelled, the wind making his hair fly wildly all over the place.
Oliver concentrated. He strengthened the winds with his mind, then pushed outward.
In an instant, the boys were battered by the flurry of leaves. They attempted to bat them away, swatting with their arms as if they were being attacked by a swarm of bees, but it was no use. Oliver’s tornadoes were far too strong for them.
They turned and ran for it. The winds were so strong, they tripped more than once.
Oliver grabbed Esther’s hand. She was giggling.
“Come on. Let’s take a different route.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Harvard University was an impressive-looking place. The architecture was beautiful, with lots of tall red brick buildings and turrets. There was a large grassy yard, surrounded by cafes, bars, and bookstores.
“How will we find Professor Nightingale?” Esther asked. “This place is huge!”
Oliver fetched the book Ms. Belfry had given him. He turned to the author bio on Professor Nightingale and read aloud.
“Professor H. Nightingale is a fellow of Harvard University’s Physics Department, where he conducts experiments in the Science Center’s historic Farnworth Laboratory, along with his small team of brilliant PhD students.”
Esther pointed ahead to a building on the other side of the yard. “There. That’s the Science Center.”
Oliver put the book away. They hurried across the grass and headed up the steps toward the building. Standing at the top was a security guard.
“Visitor ID?” he said brusquely, holding out his palm.
“Visitor ID?” Oliver repeated. He started to pat his overalls pocket. “Oh… hmmm. Now where did I put that?”
“Here!” Esther suddenly said.
Oliver watched as she took something from her pocket and handed it to the guard. He realized she must have used her powers to alter something to look like a pass. He hoped she’d done a convincing enough job.
But the guard looked at it with an unimpressed expression before handing it back to her.
“A real one, missy,” he said. He sounded very bored, like a couple of kids trying to sneak into a library was little more than an inconvenience to him. “Not this fake thing.”
Oliver racked his brains. Esther’s attempt to create a credible-looking ID card had failed. He’d have to think of another plan.
He glanced about for inspiration and saw a trash can just the other side of the steps. Quickly, he used his powers to make smoke come from it.
“Oh no! I think the trash can is on fire!” he cried.
The guard quickly ran to attend to it. Oliver and Esther took their chance and ducked inside the building.
“Good thinking,” Esther said as they hurried through the corridor.
It was a bit like a maze inside. It reminded Oliver of a hospital rather than a laboratory, other than the strange chemical smell, of course.
They stopped beside a sign that showed which floor each of the different disciplines occupied.
“Physics Department,” Oliver said, pointing. “Top floor.”
They trudged up the staircase. A long corridor stretched ahead of them. Gold plaques with the names of professors and lecturers were affixed to each door. They began to walk along the corridor, reading the names.
“Here he is,” Esther said.
Oliver turned to see her standing by a door. Professor H. Nightingale. His heart began to race. Was he about to get the answers to his questions?
Oliver swallowed his nerves and knocked.
Nothing happened. It remained completely silent. He tried again.
Again, there was no answer. Oliver looked over at Esther. She shrugged and boldly tried the handle.
“It’s