Time to Make Money!

Friday, August 29, 1997 | Oxford, England

POV Oliver

"Wait! Hey! Stop, I said!", the man shouted after Oliver as he followed him.

Oliver stopped, turned around, and looked the man over. He was perhaps in his mid-forties, tall and strongly built, with short hair that was already beginning to grey. His angular face and furrowed brows made him look even less friendly than he already seemed.

"I wasn't the one who asked for an escort," Oliver said before continuing, "I'm more than capable of finding the Dragon School on my own."

Oliver might be seven years old to everyone else, but he was still an adult soul. And he certainly wasn't going to let some random guy push him around!

"Of course you are, little genius," the man replied, opening his mouth to continue.

Oliver had already heard enough. He turned away and was about to keep walking, but the man had already grabbed his suitcase and was looking at Oliver triumphantly.

What kind of idiot is this guy?

"Calm down, kid! This isn't your villa, and I'm not your nanny. The sooner you learn that, the better!", the idiot said.

Oliver stared at him in disbelief before cautiously asking, "Are you really from the Dragon School, or are you just stupid?"

The man froze in anger. His face turned red as a tomato, and Oliver could see the veins in his neck beginning to bulge. Maybe he'd gone a little too far with the insult, but he wasn't the one arguing with a child.

"I'm an orphan!", Oliver hastily threw in before the man completely lost control.

He might have been training in kickboxing, but Oliver doubted that would be enough to stop a grown man from spanking his arse.

The man paused. For a moment, he simply stared at Oliver, then took a deep breath. Slowly, the redness faded from his face and his shoulders relaxed again.

Oliver let out a relieved breath. Being an orphan always works!

The man looked at him for another moment before finally letting go of his suitcase.

"Come with me!", he said harshly and headed towards the exit without hesitation.

The man led Oliver to a dark-coloured car parked a few streets away from the station. Without another word, he opened the boot, waited for Oliver to put his suitcase inside, and got behind the wheel.

The drive to the Dragon School passed in complete silence.

Oliver sat in the passenger seat and looked out of the window while the man drove through Oxford with both hands on the steering wheel. His eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the road, his jaw still slightly tense.

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Hopefully he isn't planning to dump me in some dark alley!

But after only a few minutes, they reached the school.

Several old buildings of pale stone stood among large trees and well-kept lawns. Beyond them stretched the playing fields, while narrow paths wound between the individual buildings.

"My name is Mr Whitaker!", he said suddenly.

Oliver flinched. Whitaker's voice had caught him by surprise.

"I'm in charge of the boys' boarding house, which means I'm also responsible for you—outside lessons, at least," Whitaker said, grinning at Oliver.

Great. His own personal Filch!

"Mr Whitaker, about earlier—I'm sorry!" he said without meaning a single word of it. But he still hoped the situation could be saved. He really didn't need an angry Filch looking for revenge.

"Too late, boy! I'll be keeping an eye on you," he replied, his grin growing wider.

Damn it!

Whitaker led him through the boys' dorm and eventually stopped in front of a door. He opened it and stepped aside to let Oliver enter.

"This is your room," Whitaker said, holding out the key. "The other boys won't arrive until Monday. You get to move in today." His tone made it perfectly clear what he thought of that.

He waited until Oliver reached for the key before pulling it away again.

"And yes, you get a room all to yourself. Another special case."

Whitaker tossed him the key.

"For your courses in Oxford, you're also allowed to leave the school on your own—with a permission slip, of course." He paused briefly before emphasising, "No student at the Dragon School has ever been allowed to do that before."

He looked at Oliver for a moment.

"Quite a lot of exceptions for one little genius, wouldn't you say?"

Ah. That was his problem!

***

Oliver hadn't arrived three days before the other boys by choice. Oxford had wanted him there early to sort out everything for the start of his programme. So, after dropping off his things, he'd made his way into Oxford on his own.

A few hours later, Oliver left the University of Oxford again. He had just met with his new mentor and another child from the programme—a real genius. Not an imposter like himself.

Sufiah Yusof.

A twelve-year-old girl with a supercomputer for a brain. Oliver had never seen anyone calculate so quickly.

He felt a little bad for her—not only because, at seven years old, he was stealing her spotlight, but also because he was currently using her as a tour guide.

"You're incredible," Oliver said as they strolled through Oxford together. "Twelve years old and already at Oxford."

She glanced over at him and shook her head.

"Says the seven-year-old who picked four—" She stopped and took a deep breath. "FOUR subjects!"

"Trust me, Sufiah, it's not the same!", he said, smiling as he remembered the look on his mentor's face. He would have taken even more subjects if it meant spending more time away from the Dragon School.

After all, he'd already completed a degree in Business and Economics in his previous life. Sure, it hadn't been Oxford, but he seriously doubted Swiss universities were that far behind.

"Are you making fun of me?", Sufiah asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Of course not! Hey, look, there's ice cream over there. Let's go cool down your hardware."

They were heading towards the ice cream stand when Oliver suddenly stopped.

"What is it?", Sufiah asked, turning back towards him.

Oliver didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on a notice displayed in one of the windows beside them.

PIANIST WANTED FOR REHEARSALS

His gaze moved from the notice to the building behind it.

Oxford Playhouse.

They must pay for that, right?

But before he could think about it any further, Sufiah was already dragging him away.

"Whose hardware needs cooling down again?", she asked, pulling Oliver along behind her.

A few minutes later, they sat on a bench with two cups of ice cream, watching the people passing by. Sufiah told him a little more about herself and her family before eventually glancing at her watch.

"I have to go. My brother and I still have maths tutoring," she said.

"Tutoring? You?" Oliver looked at her questioningly.

"My father insists. Just because I'm at Oxford now doesn't mean I can start slacking off," she said, imitating her father's voice.

Oliver laughed and wished her good luck.

"Thanks for the tour!", he called after her, waving.

Time to make money!