Lost Places by Carla Jablonski Page B

stunned when he realized it was another—much, much smaller version of—him!
    â€œUh, I hate to say this, Tim, but he’s got a point,” the little Tim said.
    â€œHuh?”
    Poof! Another Tim popped into being, this time on Tim’s right shoulder. “You’re such a whiner,” the new mini Tim said. “Go lock yourself in your room while we sort this out.”
    â€œWe?” Tim asked. How many more of me are there?
    He got his answer. Poof! Poof! Poof! Suddenly, he was surrounded by a cloud of Tims! All arguing at once. This wasn’t a demon playground, this was Tim’s idea of hell!
    â€œWhere did all these mes come from?” Tim moaned.
    â€œâ€˜Mes’!” The Other Tim sneered. “Listen toyou. Do you sleep through grammar class or do you just not go?”
    Tim flicked a little Tim away from his ear; its tiny breath tickled. “I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t have time to be scholastic just now. I’ve got quite a bit on my plate, in case you haven’t noticed.”
    â€œHonestly, you are so pathetic. How do you get through a day?”
    Tim hated admitting this, but the Other Tim was saying things he’d said to himself on more than one occasion.
    â€œLook, I’ve got to find my friends and rescue Molly,” Tim said. “Not necessarily in that order. I have no time for this”—he gestured at all the mini Tims—“this identity crisis.”
    â€œYou need to know who you are in order to have an identity,” the Other Tim said.
    â€œYou know, you’re starting to annoy me,” Tim said.
    â€œYou tell him,” a mini Tim whispered in his ear.
    The Other Tim snorted. “That’s rich. I’m starting to annoy you ? Think how I feel, having to look at such a wimpy version of me. Do you know what your problem is?”
    â€œYou,” Tim replied. “Holding me up and getting in my way.”
    â€œOoooh, don’t make him mad,” a mini Tim onhis shoulder warned. “This isn’t your place, and you don’t know your place in it.”
    Tim gave a sharp shrug and sent the little Tim tumbling down to the ground. Some of the mini Tims laughed, others gasped, a few gnashed their teeth. They seemed to see all sides of every situation simultaneously.
    Which is exactly what I do, Tim suddenly realized. I get so busy working out all the possible outcomes that it paralyzes me. He let out a low whistle. I’m in the middle of a lightbulb moment and the only one I can share it with is this bogus version of me.
    â€œYour problem is—”
    â€œNo,” Tim said. “I had it right the first time. You’re the problem. And you’re either going to help me by telling me which way to go to find Molly and the narls, or you’re going to find yourself sorry that you didn’t.”
    The Other Tim jutted out his chin. “Oh, yeah? How can you threaten me ? Remember, I know your limits, Hunter.”
    â€œDo you?” Tim demanded. “Maybe you haven’t been getting the latest updates and bulletins on my progress. I don’t know what it says in the Timothy Hunter newsletter, but while I may not do pentagrams or light candles or anything, there are things I can do. That I will do if I don’t get my answer.”
    I need firepower, Tim thought. Energy to intimidate the guy. I don’t need to use it—I just need to have the appearance of power. Energy, alive and crackling—that’s the ticket.
    Tim held out his hand and concentrated hard. He felt a surge through his body, down his arm, and into his hand. He glanced at his palm and saw a glowing sphere. As he concentrated harder, the energy ball lifted from his hand, hovering several inches above it.
    The Other Tim’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t understand,” the Other Tim whined. “I can’t just show you the way; I’ll get into trouble.”
    Feeling