Lying on his back, staring up at the two riderless ostreagles circling above, Oliver blinked in surprise. Then suddenly, Edmund appeared above him. His face was red with rage.

You idiot! he screamed, grabbing Oliver by the shoulders. You flew into me on purpose!

Oliver batted at Edmunds hands. I didnt mean to! My ostreagle wanted the ball and there was no way I could stop her. I told you to throw it!

Edmunds face was red with rage as he shook Oliver roughly, zaps of electricity sparking from his fingertips, each one like a small stabbing needle.

Oliver wasnt going to lie there and take it. He might have taken Chriss thrashings, but he wasnt going to take it anymore, not here, at the School for Seers, at the place where he finally, truly belonged. It had been building all day, this tension between him and Edmund, and now it was finally exploding.

With all the strength he could muster, Oliver pushed out with his arms. But as he did so, some other force from inside him burst out. His powers. Hed made no attempt to conjure them, and yet his mind had visualized so clearly his hands turning to solid steel that hed made it materialize as a reality before him. And his two steel hands were so strong, they sent Edmund flying.

Time seemed to slow down as Edmund arced through the air across the vast expanse of the court. He hit the ground hard and let out a yelp of pain.

Oliver sat up suddenly, his mouth agape. He had not meant to push out with his mind like that. He touched his head. There was no perspiration like hed felt when using his powers before. It was as if certain situations brought his powers out without effort on his part, like the time when Chris had tried to harm him. His powers had protected him then, as they had now. It had been uncontrolled, unexpected. Hed hurt Edmund badly when all hed wanted was for the bullying to stop. Shame swirled inside of him.

All around him, the class were muttering, whispering; his sudden explosion of power had taken everyone by surprise. He wasnt sure if anyone had seen him transform his own body, though. To go from barely altering the structure of a mouse in Transformation class to doing it with his own body seemed like a huge leap for Oliver.

He looked down at his hands, which had returned to normal. How had he done that? Without even meaning to hed rearranged the atoms of his own flesh, turning skin to metal. Surely that was the sort of power that took years to train to achieve? Could it be, Oliver wondered, that he had an atomic specialism after all? Had his failures not been because he was weak, but because he possessed the specialism that was the hardest to hone?

Suddenly, Coach Finkle was there beside him. He glowered down at Oliver.