Your imaginary cool stat, visible only to everyone except you. People award or deduct ‘aura points’ for anything: a clutch save, an awkward fumble, a confident silence, a tragic dab. The points are fake, the judgment is instant, and that’s the whole bit.
What it isn't: Not literal energy reading. Not the medical ‘aura.’ Not measurable unless your school installed a humiliation scanner.
Example: "Stuck the backflip: +1000 aura. Ate pavement: -1000 aura."
Like the fellas at the pool hall keeping a running tally on your nerve, a point up for a clean shot, a point down when you scratch the felt where the whole hall can see it.
“Whole hall groaned in the same half-second, no vote needed.”
The score everybody’s silently keeping at the drag strip. Nobody posted the numbers anywhere, but win the haul and you’re up, blow the launch and you’re down, simple as that.
“Beat him off the line and the whole lot lit up. Stalled it out front, and the whole lot let him know it.”
The score everybody in gym class keeps in their head and never says out loud: stick the landing, you’re golden, eat the mat, you’re dead for the rest of the period. Nobody posts the number, man, everybody just knows it.
“The whole gym just watched the ball hang on the rim one extra second before it dropped.”
The arcade’s invisible scoreboard, the one that racks up points nobody can actually see for a clean landing or a total face-plant. Nobody’s really keeping score, but everybody clocks it instantly anyway.
“Caught the pop fly barehanded: instant legend. Dropped it: humiliation forever.”
Nobody agreed to the scoreboard, but everybody’s keeping it anyway. Ollie clean off the curb in front of everyone, you’re a legend for a week. Wipe out doing the same trick, and it’s the L on the forehead till graduation. Nobody wrote the rules, they just get enforced.
“Whole skate park started filming before he even landed.”
An invisible scoreboard everybody’s keeping on you except you. Stick the trick in front of the whole courtyard and your stock goes up. Eat pavement doing it and it craters, no refunds, no rematch, and somehow the whole school already knows.
“Pulled off the backflip off the picnic table, whole yard erupted. Ate grass, gone.”
Your imaginary cool stat, visible only to everyone except you. People award or deduct ‘aura points’ for anything: a clutch save, an awkward fumble, a confident silence, a tragic dab. The points are fake, the judgment is instant, and that’s the whole bit.
There are 180+ more where that came from. See the book →