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important, smart enough to come up with some new ideas,” Oswald added.

Chapter Six
    Einstein was correct—time is relative. It had only been about sixty minutes that we’d been sitting here in the auditorium, listening to the mayor speak, but it seemed more like six hundred minutes. Squeezed into the auditorium with every kid in the school, I felt like the oxygen in the room had all been consumed and the only source left was the hot air streaming out of the mouth of the mayor—what a delightful image.
    On stage with the mayor, in two rows of seats, were our teachers and our principal, Mr. Roberts. Watching them squirm and fight to stay awake was my only source of entertainment. And, of course, being in the very front row of the auditorium—the location where Julia as student president insisted on sitting—gave us a great seat for watching but a terrible place for hiding.
    The mayor was directly in front of us, so close that I could see the sweat on his brow. He did sweat a lot. Directly behind him were his bodyguards. They were two huge men dressed in almost identical black suits and wearing identical dark sunglasses. Those sunglasses would sure come in handy—nobody could see if your eyes were closed during the speech. I’d heard that the bodyguards went everywhere with him. Was he expecting an attack from some librarian angry about the shorter hours, or thinking a patron of the art gallery would spray him with a paint gun?
    I forced myself to stay awake and focus on what he was saying.
    â€œAs mayor, I have worked tirelessly to let people know that this city is open for business,” he said.
    Unless you were a library, art gallery or swimming pool, of course, and then you were open less often because of him.
    â€œPotholes have been fixed, red tape has been cut and the gravy train at City Hall has been derailed!”
    I couldn’t help but picture a train off the rails, gravy running through the streets. I wondered if the Wiz had a hotline where I could make suggestions for his next piece.
    â€œBusinesspeople who come to this city need to know that this is a place where businesses and private property are respected. We must fight against those who threaten the public good.”
    I had an image of him dressed as a superhero in a little spandex outfit with a cape—that was one bad image.
    â€œThey are all criminals, whether they wield a gun or a knife or a spray can and whether they rob a bank or deface our public buildings and spaces.”
    What an idiot. He was now equating a gun with a spray can.
    â€œAnd while catching criminals should be left to the police, I have made a personal commitment to remove or paint over any graffiti within twenty-four hours of its being discovered.”
    I was more than willing to bet that his commitment didn’t involve him personally doing any of the actual work, with or without the superhero costume.
    I looked over at Oswald. He was awake and listening, actually on the edge of his seat. Obviously, the mayor had gotten his attention.
    â€œWe are involved in an epic battle to reclaim our city!” the mayor yelled, hitting his hand against the podium.
    â€œWow, an epic battle,” Oswald repeated, loud enough for a number of students to turn in his direction.
    â€œAnd as mayor, I am the commander in chief of that battle!”
    â€œYou’re the man!” Oswald yelled out.
    The mayor started slightly in reaction, pausing for a split second before he started up again. Mr. Roberts glared in our direction, and I wanted a place to hide or a few seats’ separation from Oswald.
    â€œIn conclusion,” he said—now he’d gotten my attention—“it is important that we all work hard to leave our mark on the world. But that mark should be at school, on the playing field or ultimately in the profession that you choose, not on the side of some building. Thank you.”
    There was a slight pause as people