The Beggar and Devil -

Second place 2003

© 2002 Matt Dinniman
All rights reserved.

Sam Redford came up to me during my office hours outside my locker. She was only a sophomore and had that androgynous, mod look about her, so of course everyone made fun of her. I had known who she was since I was in the third grade, but we had never said a single word to each other. She had her black hair cut in that butch lesbian style, complete with a rat tail, and she always wore these stained black jeans with a button-up shirt. Her makeup and fingernails were black, too. Rumor was, she was a witch. That day she looked especially bad; her eyes were sunken in, her lips were extra chapped, and she needed to take a shower, bad.

"You're Charlie Goldberg, right?" she asked.

I fought an urge to tug on her tail. "Yeah. What can I do for you?"

"Word is, you can get things done." She looked back and forth suspiciously, as if boogie men would pop out of the neighboring lockers.

I nodded. The only thing I ever really did was sell report cards, rented out a couple of lockers I had won in a game of poker, and maybe sell the occasional third-floor pool pass to the unsuspecting freshmen, but that was about it. "What do you want me to do?"

"Somebody stole something from me, and I want you to get it back."

"If you need muscle, go talk to Rocko Martin. He's only a junior, but he's played varsity ever since he was a freshman. All you need to do is either buy him a case of beer or something shiny."

"No," she said. "That won't work. A teacher took it, and she has it in her desk."

"A desk job, eh?" I scratched my head. I had never done one of those before. It would be risky, especially if the desk was locked. "Which teacher?"

"Ms. Robichaud."

Ms. Robichaud was a 300-pound legend among all the students. I had heard about her all the way back in elementary school. She taught sophomore English, and if you were one of the unlucky to be picked for her class, you'd be subjected to things like reading all of Beowulf, in its original text, over a weekend, analyzing Macbeth overnight, and of course, the infamous 500-word pop-essay. Thankfully, I had Mr. Keats, and he was a breeze. I think Ms. Robichaud had a deal going with the video arcade across the street, because whenever I went in there during the day, it was always filled with either her students skipping class or ex-students who dropped out because of her. Stealing from her desk would be next to impossible. "I can do it, but it'll cost you. What did she take from you?"

"My soul," Sam said.

"Your what?"

"My soul. I accidentally took it out the other night when I was playing with my new cookbook, and I had been keeping it in a jar until I got the right materials for the ritual to put it back in."

"I see," I said. So the rumors were correct. She was a freak. "And it's in a jar?"

"It's a small vial. I was swinging it around my finger during a test and she took it away."

"Can't you ask for it back?"

"I did, but she said I'd only get it back at the end of the semester."

"And you can't wait until then?"

"No. If I don't get it back in me in three days, I'll die. "

"Well, that sucks. Have you tried a note from your mom or dad?"

"I forged one, and it didn't work. Ms. Robichaud said she wasn't giving the vial back."

I thought about it a moment. This would be a hard one. I'd have to either pick the lock or break in. The last thing I wanted was to get expelled my senior year. Especially with my perfect 4.0. "Look, Sam, I appreciate your dilemma, but you have to understand, these high-risk jobs really aren't worth it."

A single tear started to trace its way down her face. With it went a glob of mascara that drew a black line all the way to her neck. "I have $1,000 saved up. I'll give you all of it."

Holy crap. I nodded my head. "Half now, half when the job's done. Plus, you have to give me another one of those vials, and make it look like the one you lost."

She nodded. "You have to do it by the end of tomorrow."

"That's pretty fast..."

"By tomorrow, or no deal. I'll have the money for you in the morning, along with the vial."

We shook on it. Afterward, as she drifted away into the crowd of nameless students, I began to think about what she had told me. $1,000 was ten times more than I had ever gotten in single job. She must really believe she had lost something. Oh well, I thought as I slammed my locker shut, as my father always said, fools and their money are easily separated.

It was quarterly report card season, so I was busy that night. It was easy, really. I bought a ream of printer paper that had the school logo already printed on it for $20 from Josh Hanson. He was an office aide, so he had access to all sorts of goodies. Then I made up duplicate report cards for whoever wanted one with my computer and bubble jet printer. I charged $10 a grade. For example, if you had a C in English and you wanted it raised to an A, then that would be $20. If you had an F and you wanted it taken all the way up to a B, well, that's $30. Last semester I had a "buy three grades, get one free" deal, and I cleaned up. I made a fortune. Almost six hundred bucks.

As I changed Julia Rubenstein's D in woodshop to a B, I started thinking about Sam's offer. $1,000 was a lot of money. A whole lot. Maybe there was something she wasn't telling me. I remembered when I was in the fourth grade and she was in the second there was a rumor going around that she had bitten off the finger of Wally the janitor because he had stuck it in her face. Then the next day, Wally came to school with a bandage on his hand. Sam was away for the rest of the year, but she came back for the third grade. Ever since then, I don't think she ever had any friends.

The next morning Sam met me at my locker. She looked much worse than she did the day before. Her already pale skin had turned almost translucent. I imagined I could see her muscles and bones twitching underneath. She handed me an envelope, which I stuffed into my back pocket. She placed a necklace over my head. Attached to it was a small vial. Inside was a swirling fog that twisted and turned onto itself over and over again. The vial was heavy, as if it was filled with rocks, and it was warm to the touch. I had never seen anything like it. "What's in here?" I asked, shaking it.

"The soul of my neighbor's cat. He'll never miss it. I have the essence of a rat too, but I'm saving that one in case I ever need it."

"Cats have souls?" The sight of the vial transfixed me. I swung it back and forth between my fingers. I had an overwhelming desire to run away and keep it for myself. No wonder Ms. Robichaud didn't want to give it back.

"Everything has a soul," she said.

"Why can't you just use this one?" I shook it a little more.

"I could implant myself with the soul of another human and live just fine, but I'd die if I tried to put a cat into me."

"This is the damnedest thing I've ever seen. After this is over, maybe you and I could go into business together. You'd make these necklaces, and I'd sell 'em." I placed the necklace down my shirt. The warmth of it soothed me. "We'd make a good team, a real good team."

She frowned. "I must have it by the end of today. I'll meet you here by your locker after last period." She shifted nervously from one foot to another. "And be careful. Once you get it, don't break the vial."

"Okay," I said. She turned and slowly walked away. As I watched her, I realized how frail she looked. No wonder she had to hire me.

I opened up my backpack to make sure my tools were still in there. I had decided I couldn't trust my lock-picking skills, so I was going to rely on old-fashioned brute force. I had three screwdrivers, a small crowbar, a handheld bolt-cutter, and a wrench. I had them all wrapped in hand towels so they wouldn't clatter as I walked around.

Now all I needed was an opportunity. I had scouted by Ms. Robichaud's classroom earlier, and sure enough, she was sitting there at her desk, even though the class was empty. She was a huge woman. Her red, curly hair hung limply against her head. She wore a tie-dyed dress that was more tent than anything. In her left hand was a red marker, and she was making sweeping gestures with it across some poor soul's paper. Her hand was stained with the guts of the marker. My only hope was that she would go somewhere for lunch. If not, I'd have to pull a fire alarm.

I skipped first and second period and went to the park. I sat on a bench and spent the two hours staring at the swirling mass of the vial. There was a small, cork cap on the top. I had an urge to pull it off and drink the liquid down.

"You drink that, and you're dead, young man," an old voice said.

I looked up to see Crazy Gretchen standing over me. The old beggar was a park regular. She had her own bench on the other side of the river, where she was always feeding pigeons and screaming obscenities at anyone walking by. A black crocheted scarf was wrapped around her neck. Her withered, ancient eyes seemed attached to the back part of her skull.

"That's the soul of an animal, you know. You can tell 'cause it's blue. If it were a person, it'd be purple. You can't devour an animal soul without the proper ritual."

I looked up at her, surprised. I was starting to feel like I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone. "I thought you couldn't implant yourself with the soul of an animal."

"You can if you have to," she said. She moved her face close to mine, and I winced. I imagined spiders crawling out of her nose and mouth and all over me. "But you gotta be careful what soul you take." She pulled a handful of crumbs from her pocket and tossed it at some pigeons. They flocked to it. "The pigeons hate all of you, you know. But not me." She turned her head and cackled at a woman who was jogging by the shore of the lake. "Slut! You'll be spreading your legs for Beelzebub soon enough!" The woman looked back in surprise, then quickened her pace along the path.

"Okay lady," I said. "I better be getting back to school." I stepped up from the bench and began backing away.

She turned towards me and cackled. "You best be careful, boy!" she cried as I fled. "You're playing with fire, you hear me? Fire! There's two people in this world. The devils, and the beggars. When you play with things like that, you'll end up like me."

I laughed. "I'll never be a beggar."

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head. "You'll be both."

As I sneaked back into school, I was still shaking from her words. This whole thing was starting to creep me out. I considered finding Sam and giving her back her money and vial and telling her to steal her own damn soul.

But I had my rep to keep up. Besides, $1,000 was $1,000. My dad always told me to never back out on a deal once you have shaken on it. It would violate the entrepreneurial code.

Soon, lunch came, and everyone filed out of the classrooms and headed toward the cafeteria like lemmings.

I waited by the entrance to the teachers' lounge. After about five minutes, I saw a mass of tie-dye. Ms. Robichaud. I darted past her in the hallway, and she didn't give me a second look. I got a whiff of her perfume as I passed. She smelled like dead roses.

An unexpected dread came across me as I approached her classroom. What if she had locked her door? Then I'd have to break in from the hallway.

I reached her door. I looked back and forth, but the hallway was deserted. I closed my eyes and turned the knob. To my relief, the knob twisted in my hand. I slipped inside and shut the door.

The motion detector caught my movement and turned on the lights. I had expected that and quickly flipped off the override switch on the wall. I felt my breath and my heartbeat both begin to quicken. The whole room smelled like her rotten perfume. I crouched down so I couldn't be seen through the window in the door and slithered my way toward the black, metallic desk.

When I reached the desk, I pushed out the chair and sat down. It groaned with relief as I settled in. There were five drawers. Two on each side and one in the center. There was a round, silver lock on the center drawer and the bottom one on the right side. I started with the drawers that weren't locked. The first one contained a can of Diet Rite, several boxes of pencils, and a half-eaten muffin. I quickly closed it and moved to the one below. Outside, a couple of girls laughed as they passed by. I ducked, but they didn't even pause near the door. I took a deep breath and continued. The next drawer was filled with papers. I pushed them back, and behind all of them was a pair of handcuffs and one sandal with a broken strap. I stifled a laugh as I slipped the handcuffs in my backpack. I had an extra set of keys at home; maybe they'd work.

In the last drawer I didn't find Sam's vial, but I did hit jackpot. She had copies of all her tests, and she was even nice enough to file them by which week of the school year she was going to hand them out. I took one copy of each. I was already calculating in my mind how much I'd charge. Probably five dollars each, but I'd only be able to sell a couple per test. Too many 100% papers, and Ms. Robichaud would get suspicious.

The next drawer I worked on was the center one. After a minute of playing with a screwdriver, I found that I could get it open without breaking the lock. I placed the blade between the metal of the desk and the drawer and pushed up. The bolt popped out of the socket and opened up. I winced as the drawer squeaked loudly. Inside were just a couple of pens, some Liquid Paper, the infamous red marker, and an inordinate number of Post-It pads, but no vial. It took me longer to get the drawer closed than it did to get it open, but eventually I got the bolt in place. I nervously looked at my watch. There were fifteen minutes left in lunch, and Ms. Robichaud could hobble in at any moment. I quickly began to work on the last drawer with my screwdriver. It popped open easily. This drawer was full of junk, including her purse. I pushed it aside and started sifting through everything. There were comic books, a Playboy (which I took), countless packs of gum, a couple pairs of sunglasses, several notes that said things like, "Do you want to go out with me? Circle yes or no." (The "no" was circled), a condom wrapper, and a baseball card.

But Sam's soul was nowhere.

"Shit," I muttered. I sifted through the junk again. It wasn't there. And if it wasn't there, I couldn't do anything about it. I would keep Sam's $500, after all a deal was a deal, but I wouldn't get the rest. I reached up and touched the vial that was still around my neck and began to worry that I might have to give it back. Then I had an idea.

I opened up Ms. Robichaud's purse and began to look through it. "Damn," I said. It wasn't in there. After taking five dollars and a scratch-away lottery ticket that had won another two dollars, I placed the purse back in the drawer and closed it. After a minute, I had it locked. I jumped to the floor and crawled to the door. I peered into the hallway. All clear. I opened the door and stepped outside. As I slipped outside, I flipped the light switch back on.

I leaned up against the wall and just breathed for a few moments. What was I going to do? I could tell Sam the truth, and I wouldn't get the money. What other options were there? But if she didn't get the vial, she could die...

"Stop it," I said out loud. There was no such thing as little vials that contain souls. The whole idea was preposterous. Sam had probably talked to Crazy Gretchen before. I had seen Sam in the park before, hadn't I? Everyone hung out in the park.

Ms. Robichaud came lumbering down the hallway. I self-consciously wiped the sweat away from my forehead. I started to walk towards her. She had a black band wrapped taut around her neck that sunk into the depths of her tie-dye. Was that the vial?

A few minutes later, I found myself off campus and walking toward the supermarket across the street. I wanted to think about what to do next. As I cashed in the lottery ticket, I had an idea. I asked the clerk where the food dye was. I purchased a vial of red dye for two dollars. Outside, I sat on the sidewalk and took out the dye. Very carefully, I pulled open the cork that held the blue liquid on my necklace. A few wisps of smoke drifted up into the air. It tickled my nose. Crazy Gretchen had said human souls were purple. It was a risk, but what the hell. I poured a few drops of the red dye inside and put the cap back on. I shook it and peered at the contents. The liquid was now a dark shade of magenta. I hoped it was good enough. Some of the warmth went away, but it still swirled around like an angry storm. I pictured a poor cat somewhere writhing in pain as I poisoned its soul. I quickly dismissed the thought.

I went to my last class. Biology. As I sat in my chair, I watched the clock worriedly. Would she know I was trying to trick her? What would she do if she found out? She was just a sophomore. What could she do? My father had told me that a true entrepreneur never worried after the deal was set in motion. By then it was too late.

Sam was waiting for me after the bell rang. She was looking really wretched. She was steadying herself with her hand against the lockers. If I punched her, she would shatter into millions of pieces. I felt a quick pang of guilt, but I shoved it away.

"Did you get it?" she demanded. Her meek voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Wordlessly, I pulled out the vial of purple liquid. She snatched it from me. She stared at it intently for a few moments. "I have less time than I thought. It's starting to darken already."

I tried not to let the relief show on my face. She handed me another envelope.

"Thank you," she said. She touched my arm as she hurried away. "You have no idea what this means to me."

That night I couldn't sleep at all. I tried very hard, but I still couldn't stop feeling guilty. I looked up Sam's phone number. But I couldn't do it. If I called her, then I'd have to admit I cheated her. I could hear my father's wheelchair squeaking about downstairs. I imagined what he would say to me if he knew. A man who cheats might as well kill himself. He would look down at his swollen knees and close his eyes. A cheater has no soul. I shuddered at the words.

The next morning, I was feeling a little better. After all, I had $1,000 in my room, and with all the tests I had stolen, I had the rest of the year set. I stepped outside and let the cool air fill my lungs. I closed my eyes and imagined the future. My house would be bigger. My car would be a Jaguar.

Sam was waiting for me by my locker when I got there. She still looked like a walking skeleton, but she grinned as I approached nervously.

"Hey, how'd the soul thing go?" I asked.

For a few moments she said nothing. We stood there staring at each other. Then, as I looked into her eyes, a strange sensation came over me. It was like roots of ice had sprouted from the floor, twisted their way up my body, and constricted. I was mummified where I stood. Sam's eyebrows arched, making her pale face seem impossibly malicious, and she began muttering something under her breath.

"What are you doing?" My words didn't seem real, as if I had only thought them.

She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed me on the cheek. My face scalded against her lips. Her arms were like cutting blades of ice that burned to the touch. I tried to step back, but her grip was surprisingly powerful. Or maybe I just couldn't move. When she lifted her arms, bits of flesh from around my shoulders and neck tore up with them. Warm blood dripped from the wounds. I felt the droplets freeze against my skin as they traveled down my back. What was happening? I was in a hallway full of people, but nobody was interfering.

A swirling fog, much like the one from inside the vials, but black, spun its way around me. As the dark eddies brushed against my skin, I tried to close my eyes, but I couldn't. It was like thousands of black, hairy spiders were writhing on my skin and infesting my body.

And then Sam's eyes began to glaze over. They rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed. As she fell, she clawed out with her hands and seemed to grab hold of an invisible thread. She hovered in mid-air for just a moment. Then, out of the swirling fog, hundreds of tiny, red claws reached out as well. They all reached at me, inside of me. My entire body was suddenly filled with an excruciating tearing sensation. All the other students just walked by as if nothing was happening. I cried out loud as I felt a fleshy mass being ripped from me. It tore away with a pop! and then it was gone. There was an empty hole inside me that I tried to reach for as I plunged into darkness.

Something was missing. I was in a hospital bed, but I had the sensation I was hanging from a hook in a meat locker. It felt like my skin was cracking under the cold. There was an itch in the middle of my back, and I knew no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to reach it.

"How are you feeling?" A voice said. I looked up, and as the haze wafted away, I saw that it was a nurse. She smiled at me warmly, and she wiped a washcloth over my head.

"I'm not complete," I said. The nurse frowned, but continued to stroke my forehead. I tried to move my arm, but it seemed too heavy. At the same time, I felt like I was going to fly off the edge of the planet at any moment.

The nurse took my temperature with an ear thermometer, looked at it, and frowned again. She did it two more times. "These stupid things never work," she said.

I tried to roll onto my side, but invisible hands of iron held me in place.

"You're a lucky young man. If that girl hadn't caught you, you probably would have cracked your head open."

"What happened?"

"Apparently, you passed out in the hallway. Your dad is on his way, but someone would like to talk to you." The nurse stepped out of the room.

A moment later, Sam entered, smiling. She walked confidently toward the bed. I tried to shrink away. Please, I begged. Don't do anything else to me. She sat on the edge.

"What did you do?" I had trouble forming the words.

She paused for a long moment. "My grandfather always said 'people who cheat people are fools, but people who cheat my family are just plain crazy.'"

"I know where your soul is," I pleaded. "Ms. Robichaud is wearing it around her neck."

"It's dead now. Once I took yours, my old one went away. Besides, I kinda like having you inside of me. We make a good team."

I closed my eyes. Tears began to form, but they froze in the ducts. "Please, you've got to help me."

She smiled, and when she did, she looked like the devil. "I can do something for you. No problem. Of course I can't do it for free." She stood and walked to the side of the bed. She grabbed my hand, and a surge of warmth spread through me, but when she let go, it quickly faded away. She laughed. She reached into her pocket and came out with a blue vial. "A businessperson like myself has a reputation to keep up. You can understand that."

Back to top of page