Chapter 8

Age 16

I ended up in jail.

It might seem unreal for someone who's living their life for a second time. Last time, I was arrested at 25. Now, it only took 16 years.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. It wasn’t a real prison. I was locked up in the juvenile department of the police station. And no, I hadn’t gone off the rails again, nor had I stolen anything. My millions, growing day by day, allowed me to live an honest, law-abiding, and happy life.

So how did it happen that I, a teenage millionaire, ended up behind bars? To put it briefly: I was saving a friend from jail. To explain further, I have to take you back to the events of the last century—to the time when my financial rise began, and Dan’s new life kicked off. Back to when I was 6 years old.

After the kidnapping, when I finally came home in the morning, my crying parents didn’t let go of me for a solid 20 minutes. As I suspected, half the town had been alerted. My father even called an entire unit from his work. More than a hundred people searched for me all night, scouring the entire area.

Once the emotional reunion with my family was over, I faced a long interrogation. First from my parents, then from the authorities. I told them everything—well, almost everything. I left out the part about slashing veins. In my version, I managed to escape as soon as I was out of the van. At the officers' request, I gave a detailed description of the woman, the child, and Gleb. Why not? Let them look for them; maybe they’ll get lucky. By the end of my story, everyone praised my bravery and how I survived the night in the woods.

The whole next week, my parents were too scared to let me outside in the evenings. But I didn’t mind or argue—I got enough of the outdoors during daycare. I quickly put the kidnapping behind me and focused on more important matters. First and foremost, I continued to work on Dan’s strength and character. I did it all through play, so he wouldn’t get bored. Slowly but surely, the guy was breaking out of his shell, growing stronger, and opening up right before my eyes. Even the teacher noticed Dan’s transformation. She proudly told my parents how positively I was influencing my friend.

Aside from Dan, I spent a lot of time thinking about making money through football bets. But this turned out to be much more difficult than I expected. I ran into a serious, unforeseen problem.

I was only six years old!

If you think that going back in time would allow you to make easy bets and cash in, you’ve got another thing coming! No bookmaker would take a bet from a six-year-old, even if they had a pile of real money in hand. The championship was just around the corner, and I had to quickly find an adult—someone I could trust with a considerable amount of money. Someone who wouldn’t cheat me.

Clearly, the only trustworthy person would be a relative. I just had to choose the right one from the ones available. I had firmly decided not to involve my parents. They were the kind of people who didn’t believe in anything supernatural. I was afraid that if I tried to prove to them with concrete examples that I knew the future, they’d have me seeing a shrink. And the only way to convince someone to place a large bet on a football match, when you’re just six years old, is by revealing the truth to someone capable of believing. Someone who could evaluate the evidence and take a child’s words as truth. My parents weren’t those people.

Ideally, I would meet the right person at a large family gathering, like a wedding. But nothing like that was on the horizon. I had almost given up hope of finding anyone before the tournament started, but a miracle happened just a week before the first match. My grandfather was celebrating his 50th birthday, and he invited all our relatives and close friends. There weren’t too many of them, but about twenty people showed up.

The tables were set outside, as is common for those living in private homes. Once the first toasts were made, the hungry guests dove into the food. During this time, everyone split into smaller groups and started chatting with one another.

I had a great vantage point and spent a lot of time watching the crowd, listening to conversations. But the more I listened, the more disappointed I became. My first criterion for finding a candidate was that they had to live in our town. Only after that came personal qualities. Anyone living out of town wouldn’t be able to help me at all.

From the conversations, I quickly realized that the majority of the guests were from out of town. But even if they weren’t, they still wouldn’t fit. The rest were just neighbors, with no family ties. Sitting next to me was my mother’s older sister with her teenage son. She lived in our town and could have been a potential recruit. But after observing her manner of conversation, I realized it was a dead end. She was so serious and unyielding that my chances of convincing her were even slimmer than with my own parents.

With a heavy sigh and a bad mood, I started picking at the salad on my plate. And then it hit me...

Déjà vu!

But this wasn’t the usual feeling of déjà vu, where you just think you've lived through something before. I had actually lived through this moment. I had been at this very birthday in my first life. You see, I don’t remember much from my past childhood, but this day stuck with me forever. A kitchen cabinet had fallen on my aunt’s head. It was the first time I’d ever seen so much blood, and the incident was etched into my memory for life. They stitched her up, but otherwise, she wasn't too badly hurt.

My memories were interrupted by a conversation between my mother and my aunt’s son—my cousin. They were sitting on either side of me, talking over my head.

“How’s it going, Max?” my mom asked. “You got your passport already?”

“Yeah, for about a month now,” Max replied with a friendly smile. “Everything’s good. I’m preparing for my exams. Hoping to keep my scholarship.”

“Oh, you’re in college already?” chimed in a woman in her fifties sitting across the table. “I thought you just finished school. You’re so grown-up now. What are you studying?”

“Economics. I want to work in finance.”

In the future, he’d become a banker and make quite a bit of money. Too bad we didn’t keep in touch much.

“Finance is a good field,” the woman said. “With how our economy is doing, can we expect things to improve soon?”

“It’s hard to say, Aunt Ida,” Max replied. “We need reforms. But they can’t do anything without a constitution. Once that’s in place, though, you can expect positive changes.”

I stared at Max and thought about it. Polite, intelligent, good at making people feel at ease, with a natural charisma. And most importantly, he was young—just on the brink of adulthood. There was something special about him that, combined with his age and the fact that he lived in my town, made him the perfect candidate. To test my theory, I decided to throw out a bit of knowledge.

“Do you know when the constitution will be passed?” I asked, turning to Max.

“Not this year, that’s for sure,” Max laughed.

“It’ll be this month,” I said, “on the 28th.”

Both my mom and Max chuckled, and he ruffled my hair.

“Well, that would be nice, Leonas. Are you into economics, too?”

“You could say that. Soon, no one will be millionaires anymore. We’ll have new money.”

“One day, that’ll happen,” Max nodded. “You’re a smart kid. How old are you—seven?”

“Six,” I corrected him.

“Already reading big books?” Max asked my mom.

“We don’t even have any about economics,” my mom replied, a little surprised.

“I read them at kindergarten,” I said.

I actually “learned” how to read when I was five. Back then, I started hinting to my mom that it wouldn’t hurt to figure out letters and words. Seeing my eagerness, she began helping me. Within just a couple of months, my parents were amazed at how quickly I was learning, and they thought I was the fastest-developing child in the world.

Of course, I hadn’t actually read any books about economics in kindergarten. Aside from coloring books and fairy tales, there wasn’t much else available there. But my mom wasn’t going to fact-check this, especially since kindergarten was behind me, and I’d be starting school in the fall. It was the perfect lie.

The conversation paused momentarily when one of the guests began delivering another long toast. A few minutes later, people returned to eating and drinking. Max turned back to me.

“What else are you into, besides economics?” he asked, clearly not taking my predictions too seriously.

“I like music,” I replied.

“What kind of music?”

I noticed my mom had gotten distracted, chatting with someone seated next to her. That worked in my favor—I didn’t want to worry her with my "knowledge."

“Rap,” I said. Max chuckled again. I imagined myself in his place—what would I think if a six-year-old was saying these kinds of things? I’d probably laugh it off, too.

“Which rappers do you listen to?”

“Tupac. You know him?”

“Of course,” Max smirked.

“He got shot a couple of years ago, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, about two years ago. Why?”

“He’ll get shot again soon,” I said. “This time he won’t survive.”

Max squinted at me, leaning in slightly, a hint of amusement in his voice as he whispered, “So, you can see the future, huh?”

“Just don’t tell anyone,” I whispered back, trying to keep a straight face. “It’s a secret.”

Max stared at me in surprise, then broke into a smile and straightened up. I sensed that some doubts had stirred within him, but he quickly brushed them aside—common sense prevailed. Or maybe he just thought of me as a dreamer living in my crazy little world. Nevertheless, the groundwork was laid, and I was determined to see it through. I needed a tangible example to continue.

I couldn’t remember what time the tragedy with my aunt had occurred. So, to avoid missing it, I moved closer to the summer kitchen and started waiting. From the outside, I probably looked quite strange, standing in the middle of the yard and staring at the kitchen for a good half hour. But I achieved the effect I wanted—Max noticed me. After watching me for a while, curiosity got the better of him, and he approached.

“What are you doing standing here by yourself?” he asked, smiling, as usual.

“I’m waiting,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the kitchen.

“Waiting for who?”

“Not for who, but for what,” I corrected him. “Something is supposed to happen, and I want to prevent it.”

Max clearly thought I was a bit off. It was evident in his gaze.

He nodded as if to show understanding. “Alright, I won’t distract you,” he said, turning to leave.

I planned to call him back when the time came, so he could witness the falling kitchen cabinet for himself. But I didn’t expect the right moment to arrive so quickly. Max had taken a few steps when I saw a neighbor spill a glass of wine on his mother’s sleeve. The slightly tipsy neighbor began apologizing, while Max’s mother brushed it off and stood up.

“Max, do you want to help me?” I called out.

He seemed reluctant, but even less inclined to refuse a child. After all, he had good manners. He came back, stood next to me, and feigned interest.

“What do I need to do?”

I put on the most serious expression I could muster and blurted out in one breath, “If you don’t want your mom to end up in the hospital, don’t let her get to that sink.”

I nodded towards the summer kitchen. Inside, through the open door, the sink was visible, with the cabinet hanging right above it. Max looked at me with that annoying smile again.

“Is mom going to get hurt by the water from the faucet?”

“Your mom will get hurt when that cabinet falls on her head. And that’s going to happen while she’s washing her hands.”

His mother walked past us and headed toward the kitchen. I wasn’t completely certain that the tragedy would happen at that moment, but I decided to take the risk. If I hadn’t revealed my intentions to Max, I might have been able to hold my aunt back myself. But her son was the perfect candidate to be my financial intermediary. For him to trust my words, he needed to see the truth of them unfold before his eyes.

Max hesitated for long seconds.

“Are you seeing into the future again?” he asked skeptically.

“This could have been an accident, where the blame would fall on the old fittings of the cabinet. But now, if you don’t do anything, the blame will fall on you. Are you really willing to risk your mother’s safety just so you don’t look like a fool trusting a kid?”

His mother entered the kitchen, approached the sink, and turned on the water. Max shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do.

“Any second now, the celebration will be ruined. Do something. Fast.”

Max quickly shifted his gaze from me to his mother and back again. He seemed to be struggling with the desire to do the right thing: to listen to my advice or to do nothing to avoid feeling foolish.

“Come on, Max, don’t just stand there,” I urged him.

Max watched his mother closely, hesitating to move. She finished washing her hands, dried them on a towel, and suddenly…

Nothing happened.

Aunt Maria calmly left the kitchen and headed back to the table. Max looked at me with a satisfied smirk and ruffled my hair.

“Well, you’ve got a talent for fooling people, Leonas,” Max said. “You should be an actor; you’re so good at being serious.”

Aunt Maria was returning to the table when Grandpa called out to her.

“Daughter, please bring me two plates from the kitchen. In the cupboard, above the sink.”

Here it was! She was going to open the cabinet, and everything would happen! I wasn’t going to try persuading Max to stop his mother again—he probably wouldn’t listen a second time. But I didn’t want to put my aunt in danger once more, especially since I was confident that this time the cabinet would definitely fall.

“Aunt Maria!” I yelled, putting on a scared expression.

Aunt Maria stopped midway to the kitchen and turned around.

“I really need your help,” I ran up to her, extended my finger, and made a puppy dog face—“I have a splinter, it really hurts. Can you help me get it out?”

Aunt Maria bent down and began inspecting my finger.

“Max can bring the plates for now,” I told her.

“Alright,” Aunt Maria agreed, glancing at her son—“Sweetheart, go get the plates for Grandpa.”

Max nodded and headed for the kitchen. As he passed by me, our eyes met. I gestured with my eyes toward the kitchen and shook my head side to side. He responded with a skeptical smile.

Max approached the cupboard, reached out his hand, and froze. He stared at it for several seconds before glancing at me.

“I can’t find any splinter. Where did you see it?” Aunt Maria said, still examining my finger.

I shook my head again, looking at Max. He sighed heavily and, apparently overcoming a significant internal struggle, stepped aside from the cabinet. Doubts overwhelmed him, and that was perfect. I was sure he didn’t fully believe my words; he was just playing it safe. For now, that was enough for me.

Max reached out again, grabbed the handle, slowly opened the door, and suddenly…

Still nothing happened.

Damn it! The cabinet was supposed to fall! Max smiled, like someone who feels completely foolish after being played. He looked at me as if I were a silly child and reached for the plate.

Suddenly, the cabinet ripped from the wall!

The bottom snagged on the tiles below, tilted, and crashed to the ground with a deafening crash. Dozens of plates shattered into pieces. Max quickly pulled his hand back and stepped away. His mother rushed toward him in horror, completely forgetting about my nonexistent splinter. Behind her came my grandparents and a few other guests.

While the adults were scrambling around, Max stared at me with wide, astonished eyes. He believed! And he couldn’t believe he had believed. I smiled slightly back at him and put my finger to my lips, signaling him to keep quiet. It probably looked eerily ominous. Something told me he would keep his mouth shut.

I had successfully completed my task. I had convinced Max of the truth of my words. The next move was his.

***

My brother didn’t make me wait long, and that very evening, he came over for a chat. Thankfully, he deemed it wise not to spill my secrets to anyone. After all, who would believe him? I would certainly deny everything, playing the part of an innocent child.

He asked too many questions, but I didn’t answer all of them. I completely left out the part about reincarnation, explaining instead that I drew all my information from dreams. I figured there was no need for him to know the whole truth. Despite the undeniable proof of my abilities, he still had plenty of doubts. To finally put them to rest, I had to work hard to convince him to become my financial intermediary.

The idea of betting on football didn’t immediately appeal to Max, but he agreed to try it once, just to see if my luck with the cabinet was a fluke or if I really had some kind of gift. After discussing the details, we arranged to meet right after the first match of the tournament.

Why after and not before? There was a small hitch. Germany and the Czech Republic were set to face each other in the finals of the European Championship, but first, they had to play three matches in the group stage. I didn’t know the outcomes of those games, but I discovered that both teams were in the same group, and, interestingly enough, their very first match was against each other.

Even future finalists could lose in the early stages. I wasn’t about to place a bet on a team unless I was confident of a 100% victory—or at least a draw. I had to wait.

The first match settled everything right away: Germany won. What did that mean? The possibility of either team losing in their subsequent matches became impossible; otherwise, they would be eliminated from the tournament. And how could they be eliminated if they were set to play in the finals? They couldn’t. This meant I could safely bet on a win or draw for both teams in all their future matches. And there were nine matches left for the two teams!

To make a decent profit, I needed a significant amount of money. So, I resorted to my old habit—stealing. Although I preferred to call it “borrowing.” I planned to borrow from my parents’ stash and return it right after the tournament.

One evening, while they were having dinner, I snuck out ten bills of a million each. Don’t be alarmed; at that time, everyone in the country was a millionaire—remember? As I took the money, I hoped my parents wouldn’t check their stash for at least two weeks.

Now, regarding the bets: the average odds for a win or draw (again, I didn’t know if it would be a clear victory or a draw) for the future finalists were 1.5. (Some matches had odds of 1.3, others 1.7). My plan was to bet the entire sum won in the previous match on the next one. So, ten million after the first match would turn into fifteen. After the second match, fifteen million would become twenty-two and a half, and so on. Ultimately, after nine matches, the amount would rise to three hundred eighty-four million! That was the average three-year salary of a regular worker. Quite impressive, especially for a six-year-old. Of course, I would have to deduct the ten million that needed to be returned to my parents’ stash. The net profit? You can do the math.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

I promised Max twenty percent of the pie, which he was somewhat skeptical about but didn’t refuse. After the first successful match, he still regarded me with a good deal of skepticism but wanted to try again, and he found it hard to stop.

With each victory, his faith in me grew stronger, and by the last matches, he began investing his own money. For two weeks, Max frequented the betting shop and placed bets according to our plan. Sometimes, both teams played on the same day, which meant Max had to spend long hours in the shop to make his bets on time. Later, he would tell me how doubts plagued him each time, doubts that vanished as soon as the match ended. He only completely rid himself of them when my next prediction came true and the constitution was adopted in the country on the twenty-eighth.

Two days after the championship, Germany claimed the expected victory. I quietly repaid my debt to my parents, and my brother and I became quite wealthy. But this was just the beginning.

In the fall, I started first grade. I reintroduced myself to my classmates and future friends—who, at the moment, seemed like complete dimwits. I also met my first crush, Alice.

Aside from school, another significant event occurred in September—a reform. The country exchanged its millions for a new currency at a rate of 100,000 to 1. My entire winnings were stored with Max, and when he exchanged them, we ended up with about three thousand in total. I immediately decided to convert all the money into American dollars. The exchange rate was 2 to 1, leaving me with one thousand five hundred dollars—a considerable amount for those times.

The next tournament I had in mind was the World Cup, which was still two years away. I couldn’t just let my money sit idle, so I desperately searched for ways to invest it and generate income. My thought process looked something like this:

* Deposits. No. Banks are evil; you can't trust them.

* Real estate. That would be nice, but I don’t have enough money.

* Business. No. It’s long, hard, and torturous. I want something simpler.

* The Internet. What about the Internet?

* Google, Microsoft, Facebook! STOCKS! That's what I need!

I set a new task for Max—open an account at a brokerage firm and buy the stocks I would specify.

Once I said it, it was done.

When it came time to make the purchases, Max took me to the broker. Among all the companies available, there were only a couple of recognizable and trustworthy names—Microsoft and Apple. The stock for Microsoft was priced at seven dollars per share, while Apple was eighty cents. Knowing that Apple would ultimately become more successful, I decided to invest all my money in its shares, resulting in 1,875 stocks. Max bought an additional 300 with his share.

At just six years old, I was already able to boast about these achievements.

***

When I turned eight, two major events occurred: a crisis that halved the dollar's value and the World Cup.

In the case of the crisis, I didn't lose anything since all my savings were invested in stocks, which gradually appreciated in value. They started to soar when Apple’s founder, Steve Jobs, returned to the company.

For betting on football, Max and I followed the same scheme as the first time. This time, however, I didn’t steal money from my parents. Instead, Max sold part of our stocks at ninety-five cents each. This gave us two hundred dollars each to place bets. We started betting directly from the Round of 16. In total, the future finalists played seven matches, and each of us made around three thousand dollars.

With our winnings, we headed back to the broker to buy more stocks. Now, I owned more than four and a half thousand shares of Apple. I held onto part of the money and discreetly returned some to my parents' stash, letting them think they had simply miscalculated in their favor. To their credit, they kept all their savings in foreign currency, so I didn’t even have to mention it; they understood on their own. Good for them.

I remembered the court and the judge listing my sins as if it were yesterday. If anyone recalls, the first among them was the incident when I beat up a guy for harassing Alice when I was fourteen. This time, I had no intention of doing anything like that. Unlike my past self, I had become peaceful, composed, calm… perhaps even happy. Everything was going well; I was on the path to wealth, my parents were alive—what more could I wish for?

However, I couldn't just walk past when I saw that guy bothering Alice again. It happened after school near the building The girl was swatting at her classmate, who was persistently trying to kiss her on the cheek.

“Get away from me!” Alice shouted at the budding future assailant. Honestly, I don’t know what became of him; maybe he really did turn into a criminal.

“Kiss me, and I’ll leave you alone,” he said.

I remembered how I had lunged at him with my fists and even broke his arm. He had been boxing, though not for long, so I had taken him by surprise. I didn’t want to test his abilities. The judge had mentioned that with that injury, his career as a world-renowned boxer was effectively over. Well, it was time to set things right.

I rushed up to Alice’s tormentor and simply pushed him aside.

“You’ll kiss her when you get her consent. Until then, don’t bother her.”

My intimidating presence wasn’t enough to deter him. Without a second thought, he threw a right hook. I barely ducked under his punch. He immediately squared up, ready to continue the fight. A crowd of kids had gathered to watch the brawl.

“I forgot to ask you,” the boxer sneered, preparing to attack.

I should have hit him first; that’s what happens when you try to be reasonable. I dropped my backpack and dodged another punch. I wasn’t some push-over, and five years in prison had taught me a thing or two. Add to that the muscle training I’d done since I was a baby.

The guy was asking for it. No, I didn’t plan to break any limbs or ruin his future—just his nose. For precaution.

The boxer swung wildly, missed, then threw a second punch. I crouched, stepped forward, and landed a solid fist to his face. With a characteristic crunch of cartilage, the poor guy collapsed to the pavement and groaned. Turns out he wasn’t so tough after all. The fight ended quickly, and it worked out well for both of us—he could still continue his boxing career.

Alice smiled sweetly at me and walked home. It seemed the prospect of losing my virginity with her in the future was still intact. That made me happy. As for the sin, I wasn’t too upset—I knew some situations simply couldn’t be changed.

At fifteen, I began to consider investing in future social networks. The world was swept up by the web, with about ten percent of the population already online. I was among them.

The most well-known social networks emerged around the same time, give or take a year. I was particularly interested in Facebook, which was wealthier than all the others. I monitored its emergence closely, unaware of the exact launch date, until a brilliant idea struck me. I immediately acted on it and...

I bought the Facebook domain!

All that was left was to wait for the company to want to buy it back. I only had to wait a couple of months. After some negotiations, I managed to sell them their own domain for two hundred thousand dollars. I invested almost the entire amount in Facebook shares. It was the moment to lean back in my chair, lace my fingers behind my head, and enjoy the anticipation of becoming a multimillionaire.

Meanwhile, Max had gotten married and even had a child. One day, he came over with his family for a visit. I was tasked with watching his six-month-old baby while the adults went to the kitchen. The child sat on the couch, a toy in his hands, staring blankly into space, barely moving. I observed him for a few minutes, noting his indifference to the world around him, the boredom in his eyes, and I began to wonder… what if?

“Hey, buddy,” I leaned in closer, “you must be really bored right now, huh? No one to talk to, no one understands you. They make you suck on your mom’s breast, right?”

The baby stared at me with his mouth open and wide eyes. I leaned in even closer and began to whisper, “If you’re also reincarnated, give me a sign. Like, throw your toy on the floor or something.”

I waited anxiously for the child to make any movement, but he just continued to stare blankly at me. After a minute of coaxing, I resigned myself to the fact that his behavior wasn’t a result of reincarnation. He was just a bit slow.

***

And so, the fateful sixteenth birthday arrived. By that time, Apple shares had risen to ten dollars each, and Facebook had opened up registration for all Internet users. If I had sold my Apple stocks, I could have afforded a luxurious apartment in the capital’s center. But there was no rush; the stock prices were only at the beginning of their climb. For now, I was fine with my parents' financial support.

My work with Dan culminated in a resounding success, though only I was aware of it. I taught him, first and foremost, to be strong. And as we all know, strength breeds confidence. Of course, it all depends on the person: for some, strength corrupts; for others, it makes them better. Fortunately, Dan was among the latter. He grew into a sociable, outgoing, and cheerful guy. He knew how to stand up for himself and his opinions. In short, he was just like me. In some aspects, he even surpassed me—like with girls. He had his first kiss at fifteen, while I hadn’t even had one yet. After that kiss, he became much more confident.

As for me, I wasn’t in a hurry to kiss girls, even though I had more than enough opportunities. I just wasn’t attracted to underage peers—they were still kids! And those who were older showed no interest in me. Even though I kept myself in great shape, my appearance betrayed me as a snotty teenager. In a couple of years, the situation promised to change—I would suddenly mature and start looking older than my age. I could wait.

I had a strong friendship with Dan throughout school. We always found common topics to talk about, played soccer together, and skipped classes. But with the start of senior year, something in him changed abruptly. After the summer break, his usual carefree demeanor vanished; he walked around with a thoughtful expression and often seemed lost in his thoughts. By the end of the school day, he would disappear like the wind, quickly packing up his things and rushing home.

A few times I tried to talk to him about how he was feeling, but Dan insisted that everything was fine and that he was hurrying home for private tutoring sessions to prepare for university. I sensed that he was hiding something but tried not to press him. I held back for quite a while until one day he showed up at school just in time for the last lesson—looking all disheveled, with dirty pants and a stained jacket.

That’s when I realized he was in some trouble. I just hoped it wasn’t the same kind of trouble that had gotten him killed in my past life. I was determined to get to the bottom of it and find out the truth.

After class, Dan typically packed up quickly and tried to make a swift exit. He moved so fast that I only caught up with him at the school exit.

“Dan!” I called out. He stopped and turned around, looking startled. Upon seeing me, he quickly tried to act casual.

“Hey,” he said.

“Since when do you skip greetings? Rushing home already?”

“Just in a hurry,” Dan said, trying hard to appear calm.

“Back to those courses again?”

“Yeah. Those.”

“And where were you for the last five classes?”

“I overslept. I’m in shock myself. I was studying all night and only fell asleep in the morning,” he said, as if making it up on the spot. But I pretended to believe him.

“You’ve got dirty pants. And your jacket, look.”

Dan started brushing himself off.

“I just ran to school like this. I tripped on the way,” he forced a semblance of a smile.

“I can see that you’ve tripped more than once,” I joked. “You haven’t left those courses for months. Maybe you should skip just this once and we can go grab a beer?”

“Deal, Leo. Just not today.”

“What’s wrong with today? Come on, we should take a break from studying.”

“Another time, okay? I’ve already scheduled a session with my tutor; it wouldn’t be cool to cancel at the last minute. As soon as I can get a day off, we’ll go. And I’ll treat you.”

Dan said goodbye and left. I watched him go and already knew what I would do. I had spent too much time and effort helping Dan come out of his shell to just leave him in trouble like this. Even if he didn’t ask for help, I was going to be there for him.

Before I set out to follow my friend, I noticed a strange man in a gray coat sitting on a bench nearby. I had seen him for three days in a row now. The first time I spotted him was through the window during a lesson. I joked to myself, wondering if he was a pedophile, lurking around for a victim—my imagination was running wild. But even on the third day, I didn’t think much of his appearance at the school. Maybe he was just someone’s father.

I waited until Dan turned the corner, then turned and walked quickly around the school. As I rounded the building on the other side, I saw my friend crossing the street. For the first time in my life, I was following someone, but I noticed I was doing quite well. Dan kept looking back, as if he sensed he was being followed. I didn’t walk behind him; instead, I stayed parallel to him on the other side of the street. At first, I blended in with the crowd of people going about their business, and when there were fewer people, I moved quickly from tree to tree.

After about ten minutes, the chase suddenly stopped. To my surprise, Dan indeed arrived at his home and went into his building. However, that didn’t mean he always went home after school, so I decided to follow him a few more times. Sooner or later, he would lead me to another place.

Just as I was about to leave, I spotted that strange man in the gray coat again. He was standing near Dan’s house, watching his entrance. Such coincidences are rare; the man was clearly watching him. What if he was the one who killed him last time and dumped him in the river?

The “gray coat” didn’t notice me. After standing there for a while longer, he slowly walked away.

The next day, Dan arrived at school on time. He was acting even stranger than usual. With a pensive look, he stared blankly ahead, unresponsive to anyone calling out to him—he seemed lost in his own world. During one roll call, the teacher had to call his name three times before he finally responded. Throughout all six classes, he didn’t say a word to me. Dan resembled the introverted guy I had known in my past life. All my efforts to help him come out of his shell seemed to be going to waste. That was, for a moment, ten years of work.

At the end of the school day, Dan quickly gathered his things and was the first to leave the classroom. I rushed out after him, and upon stepping outside, I saw the man in the gray coat again. My surveillance was now focused not on my friend but on this strange figure. I stood off to the side for a few minutes until I noticed that the "gray coat" began to follow Dan.

This time, Dan didn’t head home. He got on a trolleybus and rode it to the end of the line. The "gray coat" was following him in his car. I jumped on my bike, which I had brought to school for situations just like this. I had to pedal for about twenty minutes, sometimes at a fast pace, but I kept my target in sight. When Dan got off the bus, the man in the coat parked his car at the roadside. I hid around the corner while I secured my bike to a nearby pole.

Dan turned off the main road and walked through a courtyard. I kept a respectful distance from the “coat,” trying not to lose sight of him. What was my plan? I had none. Just in case, I picked up a heavy stone along the way. Against the gun I was sure the man possessed, it wouldn’t be much help. But if I could use the element of surprise and throw it accurately, it might give him a scare.

The “gray coat” followed Dan through several courtyards until he suddenly stopped at the end of a building. Dan turned off the street and disappeared into a neighboring yard. I had to run around the building to see where he was headed. Dan walked briskly to a parking lot and got into one of the unremarkable cars.

He sat there for about five minutes. When he stepped outside, the car immediately drove away. Dan slung his backpack over his shoulder and continued through the yard. The first thing I noticed was that his backpack looked heavier. Clearly, something had been passed to him in the car. My imagination conjured up an image of a suicide bomber with a backpack full of explosives. Had Dan become a terrorist? What nonsense.

I saw the "gray coat" pick up his pace significantly toward his target. Whatever trouble Dan had gotten into, he was in serious danger. The man might have wanted to seize Dan’s backpack, whatever was inside it, even if it meant putting the child’s life at risk. I decided not to test his intentions, tightened my grip on the stone, and rushed out from my hiding spot.

The plan formed as I ran. I quickly closed the distance with the "coat," matching his speed as I followed him. I hid the hand holding the stone behind my back. The man was talking to someone on his phone. When there were only a few meters between us, he, predictably, heard my footsteps and turned around sharply. I had already pulled out my phone, glanced away, and pretended to be on a call.

"Yeah, Mom," I said into the receiver. "I’m almost home. I’ll be there in two minutes."

After seemingly confirming that a harmless schoolboy couldn’t pose any threat to him, the "coat" returned his focus to Dan, who was about to leave the next courtyard.

"He’s leaving the yard," the man said into the phone. "Ready in two minutes. I’ll corner him from behind, and he’ll run right into you. Don’t miss him this time."

Talking on the phone, he didn’t hear how close I had crept up to him. The moment he moved the phone away from his ear, I swung the stone and slammed it into his head. The "gray coat" crumpled like a sack onto the asphalt. I immediately grabbed his arms and dragged him into the bushes along the house. I checked his pulse—he was alive. I hadn’t messed that up, which was a relief.

I was in a hurry; Dan had less than two minutes before he’d be caught. I needed to get the man’s gun. If he regained consciousness sooner than expected and continued the pursuit, at least he’d be unarmed. My suspicions were confirmed—the bastard had a gun. I pulled it from his holster, spotted a trash bin nearby, and was about to make a run for Dan when I glanced back at the unconscious body and noticed a corner of an ID badge sticking out of his shirt pocket. Without hesitation, I pulled it out, opened it, and was stunned.

The document prominently displayed the words: “Drug Enforcement Agency.”

It became clear what Dan was carrying in his backpack and why he was being followed. This idiot was involved in the same thing I once was—dealing drugs. Damn, I knocked out a law enforcement officer!

Dan definitely needed to get his head on straight, right after I saved him. After pondering for a full ten seconds, I tossed the ID aside and sprinted after my friend. I discarded the gun in a trash can along the way. Dan was approaching the archway in the wall of the building, behind which he was definitely expected. I ran as fast as I could to catch up with him in time.

Dan stepped into the archway and crossed it in a few strides. He was almost out on the other side when I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back.

"Not a sound!" I hissed and covered his mouth with my hand. I quickly dragged him out of the arch and pulled him to the nearest entrance. Once inside, I released him and pushed him against the wall.

"What the hell," Dan shouted in a hushed voice, hitting his back against the wall. "What are you doing here?"

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped. "Are you completely out of your mind?"

"Stay out of it. Leave me alone."

Dan tried to push past me, but I shoved him back against the wall again.

"Leave you alone!? If I had left you alone, they’d be pulling your body out of the river! I’ve invested too much time and effort into helping you turn your life around for you to throw it all away like this!"

"Are you insane?" Dan laughed. He had no idea who shaped him into who he was.

"It's not me dealing drugs. It’s not me they want to arrest. So who's the crazy one here?"

"If I’m late for the meeting, the guy won’t wait and..."

I cut him off mid-sentence, grabbing his jacket and pressing him against the wall.

"I just knocked out the guy who’s been tailing you for a whole week. I hit him over the head with a rock! Do you know where he’s from? The Drug Enforcement Agency! He was on your tail, and if you had stepped out of that arch, they would have arrested you right then and there."

Dan went quiet, processing the information. I, slightly calmer now, let him go.

"You hit him with a rock?" Dan asked, surprised.

"We need to get out of here," I said. "Get that stuff out and throw it away."

"No," Dan replied firmly.

"Are you completely stupid?"

"I need to deliver this package. It's the biggest order I’ve ever had; I’ll get five grand for it. That’s enough for me."

"Enough for what? A car? You became a drug dealer for that? Seriously?"

"No..."

"Then what!?"

Dan sighed heavily. After a pause, he looked down.

"My mom is in the hospital. She needs an operation. It’s expensive. It’s serious. And I didn’t know how else to get that much money. A guy from the neighborhood introduced me to someone. If I sell this package, it will be enough, you understand?"

I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. He got into this mess for his mother. I had dealt only for my own sake back in the day. On the other hand, I didn’t have parents then. In any case, Dan was definitely better than me, and I was glad I helped him become who he was.

"Why didn’t you come to me?" I asked. "Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you."

"Would you have given me twenty-eight thousand dollars?"

"Yes!" I replied without hesitation. "I would have given you whatever you needed."

Dan started laughing.

"Of course," he said sarcastically. "You’re rich but hiding it."

"Let’s sort this out later. Right now, we need to leave. Get the package out."

"I can’t," Dan replied desperately. "I need to return it or bring the money. Otherwise, they’ll kill me, you understand? They’re insane people; they all have guns. They’ll shoot me without a second thought."

"I said we’ll deal with that later. Right now, take out the damn package. We can’t leave here with it."

Without waiting for Dan to act, I opened his backpack myself. I pulled out several kilograms of powder wrapped in tape.

"Are we leaving it here?" Dan asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

And in the next second, disaster struck. The entrance door suddenly swung open, and a sturdy guy in his thirties appeared in the doorway. He froze in place, staring at us. I stood there with the package in my hand, and Dan was also frozen, looking at him. Suddenly, he turned his head back and shouted, "They're here!"

My survival instinct kicked in, combined with reflexes. The guy barely had time to turn back to us when I hurled the heavy package at him. It hit him square in the face, ripped open, and showered him from head to toe with powder.

"Run!" I yelled.

While the guy was regaining his senses and sniffling heroin, Dan and I were already sprinting up the third floor. We decided to run upward rather than toward the exit, as they would catch us right away down there. On the fifth floor, I glanced down and saw someone chasing us.

We quickly reached the ninth floor, then climbed even higher and burst out onto the roof. We dashed across the rooftop with the wind at our backs, found the next exit, and ran down the stairs. As we descended to the fifth floor, we heard our pursuer's voice from above.

"They'll come out of the neighboring building! Catch them!" the guy shouted, apparently into a phone.

I was thinking on my feet about what to do since there was no exit besides the main one. When we reached the bottom, I was convinced there was a God in heaven. On the first floor, an elderly man was stepping out of his apartment. Just in time, he opened the door and stepped aside to close it. At that moment, I slipped under his arm and dove into his apartment. Dan followed closely behind.

We raced through the living room to the balcony, flung open the windows, and jumped. The drop wasn’t high, about two meters. For those who know how to land properly, this height is no problem. Fortunately, we both handled it perfectly. The balcony faced the opposite side of the building, so no one was waiting for us there.

"Run!" I shouted and took off to the right.

Dan veered left. I sprinted at full speed, crossing several yards, two wide roads, nearly knocking over an old lady, and ran at least two kilometers before stopping to catch my breath. Leaning against a pole, I breathed heavily and kept glancing around to see if anyone was chasing me. My legs were pleading, “Enough! We can’t go on!”

How I wished I could stroll calmly to the bus stop, collapse onto the shuttle, and go home. I didn’t even care about the bike; it could wait for me to pick it up later. But my little wish was not meant to be. Suddenly, from behind a distant house, a figure resembling a plasterer appeared. Except this one was covered not in dust but in the drugs that had been thrown by me.

The furious crime fighter immediately spotted me and took off in pursuit. I pushed off the pole, mentally apologized to my legs, and ran toward the road. I could only envy the guy's persistence, something I couldn’t say about my situation. He chased after me tirelessly, like a professional marathoner. At that pace, my chances of escaping were rapidly dwindling to zero, but I kept searching for a way out. And then, for the second time that day, an exit found me.

Ahead, a trolleybus pulled up to the stop. My legs sped up as best they could. My only chance to escape was to hop on the departing public transport. I poured every last ounce of strength into my sprint, dodged a collision with a dozen people, and managed to leap into the trolleybus just as the doors were closing.

The pressure in my ears was overwhelming as my body collapsed onto an empty seat. I glanced through the back window at the street and saw my pursuer. He was desperately trying to keep up, but the speed of the trolleybus was too much for him. I leaned my head back against the seat and sighed heavily. My fantastic escape felt like a cliché, often seen in many movies. But in my case, I couldn’t enjoy it for long. If in a movie, the good guy always escapes thanks to public transport, I was much less fortunate.

The trolleybus unexpectedly stopped at a traffic light. As luck would have it, it stood there for an eternity waiting for the green light. I cautiously peeked out the window and was shocked. The powder-covered guy rushed past my window and shoved his ID in the driver’s face. The front doors of the trolleybus creaked open. The relentless runner strolled in with a victorious stride.

It was a vile feeling, as if everything was finally behind me, I had managed to escape, but at the last moment, due to some minor detail, everything went to hell and I was caught. This had happened before in my past life when I tried to cross the border after a robbery, and at the most inconvenient moment, my fake beard came unstuck. Damn those amateur theatrical prop makers!

Now, however, my enemy was a simple traffic light.

Life in prison taught me a lot, like patience, fearlessness, delivering a strong punch, and maintaining a steady composure. But the most important lesson I learned was that no matter how bad things get, act like it was all part of the plan. Two muscle-bound Nazis roll up to you with a shank? Just part of the plan. You get your nose broken? All according to your strategy. They’re about to put handcuffs on you? Extend your hands and say, "I was beginning to think this day would never come."

So when the officer approached me, huffing with anger, I smiled slightly and looked at him as if my life goal was to surrender to him.

The guy loomed over me with an intimidating look, flaring his nostrils and gruffly croaking,

"Running out of luck?"

***

What a twist of fate. Once upon a time, I was actually dealing drugs, and I never got caught. Now, I was being accused of drug trafficking, something I hadn’t even done. Well, they wanted to accuse me, but they didn’t have the evidence.

Since I was a minor, they couldn’t interrogate me without my parents present, but the sneaky detective still threw questions my way. Most of them were about Dan. They were trying to get me to rat him out, but I played dumb and denied everything.

By the way, they never did manage to catch Dan. I decided my mission to "Save Dan" was officially accomplished and no longer required my attention. I had kept him safe from both death and juvenile detention. Now it was up to him to build his future.

When my parents came to pick me up, the officers had no choice but to let me go. They did put me on file and took my fingerprints, which was far from pleasant. But I consoled myself with the thought that perhaps I had fulfilled the purpose for which I was reborn. Who knows, maybe Dan would grow up to be someone important in the future? Like a president who could change our country for the better? But even if that didn’t happen, I had no regrets about what I’d done.

I didn’t have to explain much to my parents. They immediately figured out I wasn’t at fault and was just covering for someone. While they weren’t thrilled about my situation, they didn’t get too upset either. They had a heart-to-heart with me and sent me off to bed. I was lucky to have such understanding parents.

The very next day, I called Max first thing and instructed him to sell some shares to cover the cost of the surgery. By lunchtime, the cash was in my pocket, and I was eager to share it with Dan. When he asked where the money came from, I just told him Max was a wealthy, philanthropic brother. Dan returned some cash for the lost drug package, and the rest went to his mom for the operation.

My friend didn’t know how to thank me, so he just swore he’d be my eternal debtor. Even though I told him to drop that nonsense, I couldn’t help but mentally check it off my list. What if he really does become president one day?

Not a bad thing to have the future president of the country in your debt, right?