The door I was standing in front of popped open. Mrs. Streep let out a startled sound. She said, "Oh my, oh my goodness." She put a hand on her chest. "Oh, you startled me. Oh, I know who you are. You're Timmy." She smiled down at me. Looking up at her sweet, rosy-cheeked face, unblemished by any flame, something inside my chest hitched, like my heart beat half a beat and stopped. It felt a lot like a side stitch that you get, only it didn't hurt as much. It was like I had an emotion that was trying to come out, and it didn't have a way or a name.

I opened my mouth to try and say…

I don't know what.

Anything.

But all I managed was a weak smile. A tear crept out of the corner of my eye. I sniffed and wiped at it, mumbling an excuse that I had something in my eye. Mrs. Streep didn't seem to notice.

"Oh, it's okay, dear. You are here at just the right time, you know. I've been wanting someone to take something to the office for me, and you could save me the trip. I can't help but notice you're out of class." She winked at me. "You weren't sneaking around the halls, were you?" Then a thought seemed to occur to her. "Oh my. Were you coming to see me? Are you feeling okay?"

I nodded. "Let's go with the sneaking," I said. "What would you like me to deliver?"

If she thought I was breaking the rules but didn't want to get me in trouble, I didn't feel the need to argue.

"Just a tick, dear," Mrs. Streep said. She stepped back into the room and then came out and handed me an envelope. "Could you be a dear and just pop this over to the office? It's the second building across the yard."

She pointed.

I nodded. "I know where it is, thank you."

"What a smart boy you are. They did say to expect good things. Yes, good things." She smiled, shaking her head, and went back into her office.

I felt a relief that was hard to put into words. I hadn't known that I needed to see her. I mean, I wanted to see her, but I hadn't known that I needed it. My feet had carried me to her door, but I had lacked the courage to open it. The horror of what I had seen wasn't erased. I could feel the pain of having held her hand as she died. And the strange thing I found was knowing that she was now okay did not erase that pain. It helped, but it didn't take it away.

I wondered at that. It didn't seem fair. She was okay, so why couldn't I be okay too? The luck helped. I don't think I could have made it through today without the luck. I was ready to give up. I could feel it.

I let my feet carry me out of the school, lost in thought. As I passed the locker, the last one on the left, the one with a little dent hash mark scratched on it, I remembered Kaye flicking the locker open. I had to go find her again.

I sighed. I had to try and explain everything again. I had to get better at doing that. I needed her to teach me. She had used luck like a sledgehammer to use telekinesis. But not only that, she had used pyrokinesis. What else could she do? How did I use pyrokinesis? This was an important question.

And then I remembered a detail. She had said she needed to borrow energy from the tree. That was weird. Instead of heading to the office, I walked toward the tree. I needed to test out whether or not trees had luck.

I sketched the now familiar symbol on my hand as I walked. Standing underneath the tree, I studied it. The patterns in the rough grooves of the bark were mesmerizing, their gray tones and surfaces becoming more of a familiar friend to me than many people that I had known. I had spent so many hours underneath this tree.

As I stood there, I hesitated. Bad things had happened to all of the people from whom I had taken luck. Just a little was OK. A mouse gremlin would hide your keys. What would happen to this tree if it had luck and I was able to take it from it? Looking the tree up and down, I didn't see any shining core of energy. I didn't see any scintillating ropes of luck.

I decided to give it a try and set my hand on the tree.

My palm did the same magnetic slap that I was used to. I was hesitant to draw from the tree. I didn't understand why I cared so deeply about a tree, but I had become fond of it and I didn't want to kill it.

But before I could draw, something completely unexpected happened. The tree began to push something into me. It was similar to the clear, scintillating cords that I pulled from people and that I had ripped from that strange cloaked figure. But these cords were different. They had a slower energy to them. They had a green tinge in my vision. And I wasn't taking. The tree was giving.

I stood staring, watching the process as the tree, I began to understand, had an aura. I just had not been looking for it correctly. Its aura was almost completely white, some aspects of it clear. And as I cautiously reached out and touched it, I felt peace and comfort. The tree was pleased to be giving this—without a better word for it, I'm just going to call it tree luck—to me. I stood for a long moment until two cords had been pushed into my core. They didn't join the knot of clear luck; instead, they were doing their own dance.

The process was slower. It wasn't like how I could rip luck from a human or apparently a heart-napper, but the process, I had the instinctive grasp, was natural. The tree was not only happy but seemed grateful.

The world was bigger and stranger than I understood.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,” I whispered.

I wondered if I could become a vampire vegetarian. The thought was so absurd, I began laughing. Standing there, underneath the tree, my hand on its trunk, I laughed until tears began streaming down my face.

I couldn't stop.

I wanted to stop.

After a little bit, I was tired of laughing, but the laughter just kept coming, peeling out of me in waves. Eventually, it began to hurt. And still, I laughed, my sides cramped. And I continued to hoot and howl with laughter.

I looked over at the school. Sure enough, Mrs. Streep was staring at me out the window. This made me laugh harder. I couldn't contain it. When the luck finally let go, I believe I was stuck to the tree for a good ten or fifteen minutes. I fell to the ground, unable to support my own weight. I was laughing so hard my vision was swimming and my side and belly ached from the uncontrollable laughter.

I blinked and then blinked again as a pair of feet stepped into my vision. They were wearing wing-tipped shoes, buffed to a high gloss, tailored suit pants hitting neatly at the ankle cuff. I didn't have to look up. The shoes smelled of money that no teacher in the school would possess. And there was something else. It was like the gravity I had described around Mr. Pheizer. But this was, if Mr. Pheizer had the gravity of a moon, this was the sun. This was a black hole. This was something else entirely.

My laughter ceased as suddenly as it had come. And I found I was unable to move. A smooth voice, delicate, almost effeminate, but definitely a man, spoke then.

"How interesting. Very, very interesting. What have we here? I don't know you, but I want to." The voice began to cackle. It was not nice laughter. It was like the hysterics I had just been in, but evil. It was the laugh of a villain about to deliver the final words to the hero before letting him know that it was game over. It was a Bond villain cackle. It was the mad, maniacal laughter of the unhinged. And it ceased as abruptly as it had begun. "I don't want to talk to a worm," the voice said. "Rise. Stand from where you lay."

Suddenly, the pressure released, and I was able to get to my feet. I moved slowly, using the same sort of caution that you would when approaching a viper with its hood up, body coiled. Sudden movement felt enormously foolish. The man standing in front of me was wearing an expensive suit. I couldn't tell you the brand or how expensive it was, but it was clear just from the cut that the suit cost more than my mother's house. The man was well-groomed, well-kempt. He could have been on the cover of any movie star magazine or any billionaire update.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

His face was foreign to me. I had never seen it. His features were sharply handsome in an almost impossible way. His eyes were too symmetrical. His mouth was too perfect. His jaw was too unbelievably just right. If you asked the latest model of AI generative technology to make the most handsome man in the world, one who would be Forbes and People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive, it would kick out this impossible measure of perfection. Spicy with uncanny valley.

The man had a tight-lipped smile and eyes that contained the flatness of the great American Midwest. There was no depth to them whatsoever. I was insignificant, and I knew it. He was not amused, and he was not interested. I was not worth his time. In a moment, I knew this man would kill me and never think twice, like stepping on a bug. It was beneath his notice.

I swallowed, trying to work saliva into my mouth, realizing it had suddenly gone dry.

"I received an interesting report," the man said. "One of my local thugs said that he was robbed here. That's not very surprising, given his ineptitude. However, who he was robbed by, was. I put him under the knife to try and get him to tell me the truth. Because no human, let alone a human boy, has ever, and I mean ever," his voice cracked with malicious intent, "robbed one of my underlings in the last six thousand years." The man tilted his chin down slightly, his eyes exuding a pressure that I could feel somewhere deep inside. "So tell me, who are you?"

He didn't know my name.

This felt very important. I'd read in mythology that power that could be attributed to a true name. Some instinct deep inside told me it would be a grave error to reveal it in this circumstance. I felt sure I was not speaking with a man. I also felt sure that just as most people could not see the dark figure, most people could not see the man in front of me.

I grinned at him, putting a confidence on my face that my emotions did not back up. "Me?" I said. "Why, I'm just your friendly neighborhood luck vampire."

The man's eyes flashed, and for a second, I thought he was going to strike me. But he showed a restraint that Billy had never mustered. He nodded, slowly. "I see," the man said. "So, friendly neighborhood luck vampire, what do you want?" he asked.

I was taken aback. What did I want? I thought he was here to punish me. If he was willing to put the cloaked figure under the knife, as he had so colorfully said, I felt certain I was in trouble. The confidence that I put forward, my hollow brashness, came from the knowledge that I still had time left in my loop.

I shook my head. "I don't understand. What do I want? I thought you were here to take what I stole, back."

The tall figure shook his head, a grin spreading across his features. The first inhuman thing about him was revealed. His teeth were too long, longer than any man's teeth had a right to be. It was the blemish on his pristine features. They were crooked, yellow, and they looked like they belonged to a predator.

"No," the man said. "I have not come to take it back. I cannot. You must give it willingly. Would you like to give it to me?" He studied the nails on his hand.

"I could give you money. I could give you power. I could give you influence. You're a bit young, but who am I to judge? I could give you women. Or if you preferred, I could give you men, if you have the taste."

The grin remained on his features. It was very unsettling. I wanted to take a step back but didn't dare move.

"Give to you?" I said.

"Yes," the man said.

"I don't even need what you stole. Work for me. Bow your knee and swear to me."

"Work for you?" I asked. "Who are you? What work would I be doing?"

Curiosity overwhelmed me. With a smile like that, I wasn't even considering it, but I had to know.

The man chuckled. "You may not know my name, and you do not need it. I can give you a gift, and you can bring me what I cannot take by force but must coerce. That," he pointed at my chest, indicating the luck, "is currency, one I require, and one that I dole out very carefully. It was more than the thug you encountered was worth that he allowed such a rich store to be taken. Tell me, luck vampire, can you take from people?"

I chose not to answer that one, instead pursing my lips. "You want me to fetch luck for you?"

The man laughed. “That's what you call it? That explains the moniker. Good enough. Keep calling it that. Yes. I can see by the expression on your face that you can take from people and that you have. How delicious. Tell me, what did it feel like to rip it from them? Did it feel good? Did you get high? Don’t you ache to do it again? You, at this moment, have all you can hold. But you could spend it. I would pay you handsomely. I would meet you daily. I would give you your dreams.”

The man's voice was smooth, but there was a terribleness to it.

"No,” I said, feeling bold, actually feeling it now. He couldn't take it from me. Then I had something he wanted. “I won't. I won't give it to you. I won't work for you. And I won't take from people. Where are your other thugs?" I asked.

"You go too far," the man said, looming over me. Even though he didn't take a step forward, his presence seemed to increase. He was taller than he had been a moment before. Terribly tall. Too tall like his teeth were too long. It was wrong. It was wrong in a way that screamed danger. My senses told me I was facing a growling wolf.

"Maybe," I said. "Tell you what… I was hasty."

The man's presence seemed to diminish a little, and he cocked his head. "Hasty?"

"Yes," I said. "Give me a day to think it over, and tomorrow I will give you your answer."

The man spat on the ground. A sour smell that reminded me of the taste of sulfuric acid rose in the air from where he had spat, and I expected to see the grass blackening, but it didn't. It stank of rot and death, a sour note that approached a similarity to that of a skunk.

"I offer you the world, and you seek to barter," the man said.

I shook my head. "Your offer is generous," I said. “I said I would consider it. That's the best I can do. I'm twelve. It takes me longer to make important decisions."

The man laughed. "You are not twelve," he said. "Nice try. I can see through you. You are unusual. I would like to know more. I will give you five minutes to decide. Come back here to this tree in five minutes and bring me your answer. And if it's no, you're correct. You do have something I want that I would take if I could. But if you're not willing to give it and if you're not willing to serve, I will kill you. You are a nuisance, and I am ready to be done with you."

Then he was gone. There was no fading away or stepping back like he was entering a different place. He was just gone. I blinked as his afterimage was still in my vision.

"Well," I said, "there's only one person that I can talk to for five minutes that will give me any kind of answer."

Thirty seconds later, I was in the school bathroom, standing in front of the mirror. Surprisingly, Not-me still had Kaye’s avatar on, but he wasn't falling apart yet. His skin was still only slightly gray. As quickly as I could, I gave Not-me a rundown of what had happened, and he began to cackle.

Hearing his crass old man cackle coming out of Kaye’s features was very disturbing.

"You punked him," Not-me said. "I can't believe it. You punked him like a little bitch. Oh, man. I had no idea that you would be able to do this. This changes everything. This changes everything!” He was crowing.

"You realize what you've done?" Not-Me said.

"That's why I'm talking to you," I said.

“You just refused to deal with the Tall-man and you punked one of his thugs. I love it! But something even better.”

“What?” I asked, desperate to get to the point. I felt every second burning by.

“You discovered a way to fight back. I felt confident it wouldn't be possible until the future. But you've done it. Kid, you've never found a button that you couldn't press. But this time it worked out. You accidented your way into another world. Lucky encounter. I can't believe you punked him.”

"Just so we're clear," I said, "what do you mean by punked?"

Not-me chuckled. "I mean you slapped his little bitch ass back to where he came from, taking everything that he had that was of any value and getting him in trouble with a big bad."

"Wait," I said, "that was a big bad?"

"Yep, just about as big as they come. Although you don't want to know about the ones that are bigger."

"I don't understand these weird slang references to this strange supernatural hierarchy you keep alluding to."

Not-me laughed. "Doesn't matter.”

“And another thing,” I said, “this has been bothering me.”

“What? I thought you were on a time limit.”

"I don't care," I said. "Why do you talk like you're as old as my dad? You're me, right? Why aren't you using future slang? Everything you say sounds like it came from a bygone era."

Not-Me laughed again. "Well, I guess I picked up all my speech patterns from the yogi I apprenticed under. Yes, I did apprentice under a yogi. No, it wasn't what you think. Forget about it. You don't even have a concept."

"What do I do?" I asked.

"Find a way to reset the loop before he comes back," Not-me said.

“In the next...,” I desperately wished I had a watch. By my estimate, I had two and a half minutes left. “In two and a half minutes!?” I said.

Not-Me nodded.

"And another thing,” I said, feeling confrontational. “Why aren't you falling apart?"

Not-Me looked down at himself appraisingly. "You know, I don't actually know the answer to that. We should figure that out. What was different about this last person whose avatar I took? She seemed very interested in you."

“Well, she didn't have an aura, for one,” I said.

Not-me nodded. “Well, that’s a working theory. It will require testing before we know whether or not that’s what happened. But perhaps people who don’t have an aura, although they’re a needle in a haystack, create avatars that I can use without them falling apart.”

“I wish you would take a new one,” I said. “It’s really weird seeing someone that I know with your voice.”

“Tough,” Not-me said.

“Okay, so the Tall-man,” I said, “it… he, said that what I was taking was a currency. What does that mean?”

Not-me nodded. “It is a currency. It’s something that humans naturally generate. And these overlords, overseers, big bads, kings in charge, gods if you want, I don’t care what you choose to label them as, need it. They lost their resource chain. Now, the only method that they have for getting more of the resource is humanity. Why do you think the supernatural is so closely tied to humanity? We have something they need. We naturally generate it. Except for you, you little freak. And the only way that they can take it from us is if we give it up voluntarily.”

I nodded. “That’s what the tall man said. He said he couldn’t take it, but I could give it.”

“Did you give him any?” Not-me said, looking concerned for the first time in the conversation.

“No,” I said. “I said I didn’t.”

“Good. Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. The second that you give the Tall-man any of what you’ve got, you are starting down a road that there is no returning from without intervention.”

“Intervention?” I asked.

Not-Me nodded. “The divine kind,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “So, there is a divine?”

“Oh, you bet your ass,” Not-me said. “But that’s scary. That’s real scary. You think you were scared in the presence of the Tall-man? It’s nothing compared to standing in the presence of the divine. You do not want to go there. Don’t even think about it.”

I quickly described the encounter I had had when I was in transition after the first aura wash. I hadn’t bothered to tell Not-me what had happened. After I finished, I said, “I think I already have. It didn’t feel scary.”

Not-Me whistled. “Wow. Wow-wow-wow. You don’t just press buttons. You throw rocks at hornet’s nests, kick over anthills, and travel into a segregated neighborhood, casting a fishing line with racist slurs trying to see who’s angry enough to take you up on your offer of violence.”

“What?”

“It’s a good metaphor. Roll with it.”

“But I’m not racist,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still a good metaphor. Listen, by your own count, you’ve only got a minute left. You need to reset the loop, and you need to reset the loop now.”

“How do I do that?” I asked.

Not-Me looked thoughtful, beginning to pace, walking back and forth in and out of my vision. Finally, he stopped pacing and looked at me. “I’ve got an idea. It would be easier if you just go step in front of a bus, but clearly you’re not going to do that. So, we’re going to try something that may or may not work.”

“What?” I said.

“Think about that divine entity that you encountered. Hold it in your mind, the clearest picture that you can fathom, as if you wanted to use telekinesis, and say this phrase: I commit my spirit into your hands.”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“That’s it,” Not-Me said. “I’ll try and reset the marker back to the beginning of the day. If it works, you dodged a bullet. If it doesn’t work, you better run. You better run as far and as fast as you can. And I recommend stepping in front of the first bus you find.”

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll try it. Is this smart? You said the divine was scary.”

“It is scary. It’s right now your only option if you’re X-naying the us-bay.”

“If I’m X-naying the us-bay?” I said.

“Pig Latin, kid. Jeez, you’re so uncultured. Go on, give it a try. You’ve got ten seconds left."

So, I did. It took me eight seconds to firmly fix the image in my mind. It was seared into my memory. But using my imagination as precisely as I needed to for telekinesis was hard. Then I opened my mouth and spoke.

"I commit my spirit into your hands," I said.

***

Edit: typos