The Magic Factory

Oliver felt buoyed by his first tiny success. But he knew the test was still to come.

Mr. Lazzarato called an end to the class. Everyone packed up their things and started to leave.

Just then, a fist slammed down on the table in front of Oliver. He startled and looked up. He found himself staring into Edmund’s mean, black eyes.

“Next class we’re playing switchit,” he said, menacingly, “and I’m going to kick your butt.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Oliver followed his friends into the atrium for switchit practice. The room was just as enormous as the food hall and library. It looked in every way like an oversized basketball court except for the fact there were about a thousand different baskets at varying heights. It was enough to give Oliver a headache looking at them all.

But more than the size of the court, Oliver was most overwhelmed by the caged bars at one end of the room, behind which, lurking in the shadows, were the ostreagles. They looked just as mean as normal eagles, only they were ten times the size. The thought of riding one was very intimidating for Oliver.

He turned to his friends.

“How do you even play this game?” he asked. “There are so many hoops. Are there lots of balls as well?”

Walter, who’d made it clear that he thought of himself as some kind of switchit expert, began to explain the rules. “You use your powers to hide the ball or distort it in some way so that the others don’t know who’s got it and what hoop you’re throwing it into.”

Ralph added, “Of course, the best players use their powers to multiply the ball and score in several hoops at once.”

Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “You mean we don’t play in teams? It’s pretty much you versus everyone else?”

“Of course it’s not in teams,” Walter said as though it were obvious. “You get one point for blocking someone else’s attempt to score a bucket, and three points for scoring your own. The person with the most points after sixty minutes wins. So it’s a game of power, strength, and endurance.”

“And aggression,” Ralph interrupted. “I mean, it’s not like there are many Seers who make a career out of defending.”

Hazel nodded her agreement. “That’s true. The winner is usually the person who’s confident and aggressive enough to go for the shots.”

“I told you it was vulgar,” Simon added.

Oliver felt apprehensive. The rules of switchit made the sport sound a little ruthless, not to mention tiring.

“And this all happens on the back of one of those?” he asked, incredulously, pointing to the caged ostreagles. He didn’t like the thought of having a dozen of them chasing after him in one go.

“Yup,” Walter said, grinning. He slapped him on the back. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Simon added, “And if you don’t enjoy it, then you’ll be in good company. I thoroughly dislike this game.”

Oliver followed his friends over to where the coach was leading the students, one at a time, into the caged room. Oliver joined the back of the queue, feeling his nerves intensify. From the front, Edmund and Vinnie were whispering and pointing at him. Edmund shook his fist and Oliver gulped.

As each of his friends disappeared into the dark room, his apprehension grew. Then it was his turn.

Coach Finkle was a tall, skinny man with curly ginger hair. He peered down at Oliver curiously as they walked in through the caged gates.

“You’re new,” he stated.

Oliver nodded. “And scared. I’ve never ridden an ostreagle.”

As he said it, one of the huge creatures loomed into view. He balked at the size of it.

“Well, there’s only one way to learn,” Coach Finkle said. He patted the ostreagle’s flank and it let out a chirruping kind of noise. “And that’s to just go for it. Mabel here is very gentle. She’s good with a beginner.”

Oliver trembled as he approached the formidable-looking Mabel. Her eyes were yellow and piercing. He touched her feathered side gently. She let out another chirrup.

Coach Finkle spoke again. “You’ll need this.”

He placed a helmet on Oliver’s head. Right away, Oliver felt a strange pulsing sensation between his ears.

“Not more training aids,” he groaned. “I’m the only one who has to use them! Everyone will laugh at me!”

“They all had to use them once too,” Coach Finkle told him flatly.

But Oliver knew that didn’t matter one bit. Whether the other students had needed aids or not was beside the point. He was the only one using them today. It made him different.

“Come on,” Coach Finkle said impatiently.

Resigning himself to wearing the helmet, Oliver climbed onto the back of the animal. It was surprisingly comfortable. Mabel’s feathers felt soft as he took hold of them in his fists, just by the base of her neck.

With everyone mounted, Coach Finkle went over to the gate and put his hand on a lever. “Ready, set, go!” He pulled the lever and the gate flew upward. The ostreagles shot forward.

Oliver held on tight, the wind whipping in his face from the speed. Then suddenly he was out of the shadows and onto the huge court, flying upward through the air. Above him he could see Hazel. To his side was Ralph. But his mind felt slow. The pulsing from the helmet made him feel sleepy and disoriented.

Suddenly, someone whizzed past him.

“Nice hat, dummy!” came Edmund’s voice.

Oliver glanced all about him, but Edmund had already gone. Then a voice called from above.

“It’s safest at the top!”

It was Simon’s unmistakable British accent. But all Oliver could make out was his pale blond hair.

He felt flustered. The helmet was practically blinding him. If Edmund really wanted to kick his butt, then his near-blindness would certainly give him the advantage!

Far below, Oliver could just make out Coach Finkle holding a basketball. The coach threw it directly up into the air. The game was on.

The ostreagles reacted immediately. It was if the ball contained some kind of homing beacon. Everyone swooped for it. Oliver’s stomach flipped as Mabel soared through the air in pursuit.

“No, stop!” he yelled at her. All he could see were blurs. It made his stomach swill.

Suddenly, Mabel halted. She let out a snort that sounded very much like annoyance.

“I’m sorry,” Oliver told her, breathing slowly to calm his racing heartbeat. “I can hardly see a thing. If I go down there, I’ll get pounded!”

Mabel flew in slow circles. Oliver had no idea if she could understand what he’d told her but she was heeding his instructions nonetheless, letting out disgruntled snorts every now and again.

From his position high above, Oliver watched the frightening sight of the ostreagles as they all homed in on one person. He realized it was Walter they were pursuing. It was like watching vultures circling their prey.