The Legend

by Allen, Dylan

  “Of course, I remember you. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t remember me.” She stares down at those beat-up blue Jordan’s.

  I want to tell her that would have been impossible. Instead, I ask her why.

  “Because that night was embarrassing. My mother and I were kicked out of your house. And it was the beginning of what turned out to be a pretty terrible chapter in my life. So yeah, I was hoping you’d have forgotten it. I’ve tried my hardest to.” She puts the books down and turns to face me. Her expression tense, like she’s expecting me to laugh.

  Laughing is the last thing on my mind. I’m just amazed that she’s gone through so much and is standing here, same as me.

  “I could never forget how interesting your stories were. And how pretty you looked.” I say.

  She flushes, but this time doesn’t try to hide her smile. That feels like a victory to me.

  “You came up with those stories when you were just thirteen years old,” I say as if she doesn’t know it herself.

  She shrugs as if it’s not a big deal and smiles deprecatingly. “Yeah. I did. I was into some crazy shit back then”

  “I still read them, you know. Especially that inscription. It’s in my bedroom on my shelf with the rest of my books.”

  Her hand covers her mouth, she pulls the earbuds out of her ears and she walks over to the counter and leans against it, her back to me.

  “Wow, I can’t believe it.” She shakes her head at the memory.

  I join her at the counter and rest my elbows on top and look over at her.

  “You want it back?”

  She thinks about it, cocks her head to the right and exhales loudly.

  “I mean, I guess. I don’t know… I haven’t thought about that stuff in a long time,” she says, her voice full of awe.

  “So you haven’t been keeping up with all the new cold cases that’ve cropped up since then?”

  “Don’t tell me you do,” she says.

  “No, I don’t. One notebook full was enough to last me a lifetime.” I don’t tell her that I flip it open and read that line “All legends are lies” before I leave for a game or head out to take an exam. That through those words, she’s become my de facto good luck charm.

  “That feels like a lifetime ago.” She sighs. “And yeah, I still keep up with cold cases, yes. Research them and try to solve them sometimes. But, I’ve grown up a lot since then. I don’t believe in happily ever after anymore. So, I don’t write them.”

  My brain hears those words and my competitiveness rears its head and for some reason, I take them as a challenge.

  “Do you write at all?”

  “Oh, yeah. But just for my school paper these days. And more investigative stuff—like where did the money the school board was supposed to spend on AV equipment disappear to? But I still love reading books about unsolved mysteries.”

  “Have you heard of Murder By The Book?” I ask her as an idea starts taking shape.

  “Nope. What’s that?”

  “A bookstore my sister likes. There’s a group that meets there to discuss unsolved cases.”

  She waves a disbelieving hand at me. “No way.”

  “Oh, yeah, we went in there once during one of the meetings and we stayed for it.”

  “What was it like?” she asks wide-eyed, her guard down, her enthusiasm is palpable.

  “Fucking weird. I mean, they believe some far out shit. But we went back a few times.”

  “You did? So, you’re like… really into it?”

  “Nah, But the lady who runs it used to bring these tamales with her every week and they were good as fuck. Totally worth sitting through the meetings for.”

  A bark of delighted laughter is melodious and clear as a bell. It feels like a reward

  “That’s ridiculous,” she admonishes with a playful shake of her head.

  “Not as ridiculous as sitting around talking about Jon Benet Ramsey for an hour.”

  “Oh man, that sounds like heaven to me.” She closes her eyes and moans.

  “You should go.”

  She glances at me; her face transformed by the beaming smile on it.

  “You think? I mean, I would love to. It could be research. Get some ideas for displays, you know?” She claps her hands together excitedly and then gives me a shy smile that makes me want to coax more just like that out of her. “I love bookstores. I know it’s weird.”

  “I remember that about you from the night we met. That you loved books and thought you were weird.” I take a tentative step toward her. Her dark eyes widen, her lips part a little and she takes a step toward me, too.

  The air around us changes, grows heavy with impatience and I wish I had super long arms so I could reach out and pull her to me.

  “I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” I say.

  Her gasp is audible and visible in the sharp rise of her shoulders. She pulls her sandy-pink bare lip between her bottom teeth and nibbles it. I’m jealous of her teeth.

  She peeks up at me through her lashes. “I’ve thought about you, too,” she confesses quietly.

  “Did you write your happy ending?” I ask as she gets closer.

  “I did… wrote you one, too.” She smiles shyly.

  An unexpected rush of warmth comes over me and I reach for her. “I want to read it—”

  I’ve just touched her shoulder when the bell over the door jingles. A woman with dark hair caught up in a tight ponytail, dressed in bright blue hospital scrubs walks in with a handful of bags. I recognize her right away as the woman from the library.

  Kal’s mom. Like Kal, she looks like a totally different person now, but like Kal—she’s so distinctively beautiful, I’d know her anywhere.

  “Who are you?” she asks and her tone leaves no doubt that she isn’t happy to find me here. I turn to face her and smile.

  She frowns.

  “I’m Remi. I’m making a delivery. From Eat!” I point at my truck.

  “You are?” Kal asks in complete surprise and I look back at her.

  “Yeah, I guess we got to talking and—”

  Her mother snaps her fingers to get my attention. “I know your family owns this town, but you’re blocking the entrance to the bookstore. I have a photographer coming to take pictures of the place today, so I need you to make your delivery and get that truck out of here.” She points angrily to my white delivery van on the curb.

  “Shit, sorry,” I say and start outside.

  “And next time, use the entrance in the back,” she yells after me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I call back as I rush out.

  When I come back in with an armload of pastry boxes, Kal walks past me on her way to the back of the store and says, “Thank you for being nice.” Her fingers skim my arm and I look at her in surprise.

  Her eyes hold mine. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispers and then disappears around the corner.

  4

  THE LEGEND

  REMI

  “Delivery,” I call out from the back of the bookstore, I make my way through the loading bay and into the storage room.

  “Come on through,” Kal shouts back. I make my way onto the sales floor of the bookstore and feel a sense of relief that her mother is nowhere to be seen. Her back is to me as she fiddles with the espresso machine and I admire the lean lines of her back and neck.

  She looks over her shoulder and smiles wide when she sees me.

  Her hair is down today, and it looks like nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s wild, and long and thick and so many different kinds of curls in one. It’s fucking pretty and I could stand and look at it all day. Admire the slim set of her shoulders and the way her bright orange tank top clings to her slim waist. But I don’t want to linger in case her mother happens to come back. I remember how my mother treated her that night all those years ago. I wasn’t surprised she wanted me out of here yesterday.

  “Hey, there. Morning.” Her voice is friendly today and I relax as I walk through the door
.

  “Morning. Do you want me to put those over there like yesterday?” I nod at the stack of boxes in my arms.

  “Yes, please.”

  I put them down and turn to get more from the truck. I glance at the small black notebook on top and imagine her face when she finally turns around and sees it.

  When I come back in, she’s picked it up and is thumbing through it. She looks up as I approach and her eyes are bright with tears, she’s grinning from ear to ear. My step falters. Her smile is like a punch of liquid sunshine. I want to see it again.

  “Thank you so much for bringing this back to me.” She presses a palm flat against it.

  “You’re welcome. As much as I’ve loved having it, it’s nice to be able to return something that was clearly missed.”

  She closes the notebook, rests her forearms on the counter and leans forward giving me a very nice view. A small smile playing on her lips and a mischievous glint in her eye. “I heard they call you The Legend.” She drawls slowly.

  I lean forward too, arms resting on either side of hers. “You been asking about me?” I ask with a smile.

  Once she’s put some distance between us, she rolls her eyes but laughs. “You wish. I got a part-time job at Sweet & Lo’s. Some girls were in there talking about you.”

  “You work at Sweet & Lo’s, too?” I’m surprised. I go in there almost every day and haven’t ever seen her.

  “Just a few nights a week. You have this whole harem that come in and do nothing but talk about The Legend on the basketball court. Apparently, you practice with your shirt off.” She glances at my forearms.

  “A harem?” I ask like I’m considering the word.

  “Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but certainly a good group of them.” Her fingers twitch and I wonder if she wants to touch me, too.

  “Oh you mean Joni and her friends. Yeah they come watch me play every day.” She steps back from the counter and moves her arms.

  “That sounds like a total waste of time, to me.” She tosses her head and stalks around the counter, her nose tipping up as she approaches me like she intends to pretend she doesn’t see me standing there.

  I nudge her with my shoulder when she walks past me. “Come on… you know you want me to show you. I look really good with my shirt off.”

  She laughs at me. “Wow… I guess you believe your own hype?”

  “It’s not hype. It’s all true.”

  “Okay. Then tell me. Besides those girls, who else calls you the Legend?” She cocks her hip and crosses her arms, this time like she’s prepared to wait as long as it takes for me to think of an answer.

  I went through a phase where I doubted that I deserved that nickname. But I don’t anymore. I’ve earned it with sweat, tears, time, and pain. So, I shrug.

  “Everyone… I’m the baddest basketball player my school has produced in thirty years.”

  “I guess if you go to school around here. I mean, can’t imagine the competition is that steep or anything. How do you do when you play the kids at Yates?”

  She mentions the high school that was our biggest rival. “You must not follow basketball. ’Cause if you did, you would know we’ve beaten them every game we’ve played.”

  “I bet you kiss your biceps in the mirror, too.” She quips with an amused scoff.

  “You’d kiss them, too if you could see them.” I flex one arm and she laughs.

  She glances at the clock on the wall. “Oh, shit, look at the time, I gotta get this done. We open in an hour.” She turns to the shelf, pulls a stepladder up and grabs some books.

  “Here, let me.” I put my hand out, and she stares at it for a second and then back at me. “What?”

  “You’re gonna help me?” She leans back; eyes me up and down in disbelief.

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t you have other deliveries to make?”

  I glance at the clock. I’m ahead of schedule. I was going to go by Sweet & Lo’s before I went back to the store, but I’d rather stay here and talk to her.

  “You’re my last delivery and I have a little time.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you. Thank you,” she says and for the first time since I walked in, there’s no mask. There’s no smirk, there’s no teasing. It’s a sincere thank you and it makes me feel really fucking good.

  “So, The Legend, huh? You’re good at everything?”

  “Pretty much.” I shrug. I’m not bragging. It’s true.

  “What’s everything? Besides basketball?” She takes the book from me and sticks it on the shelf.

  “I’m a good student.”

  “That’s it?” She frowns, unimpressed.

  “What else is there?”

  She groans. “What else is there? Everything, that’s what,” she says with an incredulous smile on her face.

  “Well, ask away, and let me prove it to you.”

  “You a good dancer?” she asks.

  “Of course.” I drop down and show her my best break dance spin and hop up with a grin and wink.

  She shrugs. “Basic.”

  I clutch my chest like she shot me through it.

  She chortles with amusement. “Can you cook?”

  “My mother is Jamaican, I can make curry stew in my sleep.”

  “What other sports do you play?”

  “I’m a natural athlete. I’m good at them all. Basketball is the one I love.”

  “What about roller skating?”

  “Roller skating?” I give her a side eye. “Come on. What are we? Six?”

  “What does that mean? Roller skating is the shit, and it takes a lot of skill.”

  “Whatever. That doesn’t count ’cause, like we established, I’m not six.”

  “Well, it counts to me. So how about this? We just call you The Legend of all the boring things.”

  “Who are you calling boring?” I ask in mock affront

  “You.” She raises her eyebrows in challenge.

  “What do you do for fun that’s so exciting?”

  “I read, and write, and try to find ways to get my favorite books signed. In fact, I checked out the website for the bookstore you mentioned. Andre Dubus is coming there tonight. I want to get my copy of House of Sand and Fog signed and find out about the group you told me about yesterday.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He’s just my favorite author. It’s his first book, and it’s amazing and he’s kind of my hero. Worth riding my bike all the way over there to get it signed.”

  She gets this dreamy look in her eyes, and I feel a pang in my chest that smacks of jealousy.

  “I can take you.” I find myself saying before I think better of it. I promised my grandfather this is the last thing I would do. But, that was before I knew it was the girl from the library. I’ve been waiting years to spend more time with her.

  She blinks in surprise. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine riding my bike,” she dismisses me.

  But I’m nothing if not persistent. Especially when I’m right. “It’s not close and you can’t get there without crossing the 610. If you’re going at seven, that means you’d be riding at the tail end of rush hour, it’s kind of busy. I’ll take you.”

  “You’re bossy,” she says grudgingly, but with a smile.

  “Yeah, ’cause I’m in charge.”

  “Not of me, you’re not” She shakes her head for emphasis.

  “You live here now, and Rivers Wilde is my neighborhood. So, I am. I’m taking you.”

  She raises her eyebrows and I can’t tell if she’s surprised or annoyed.

  “I mean… if you really want to, I won’t say no. It’ll beat getting there all sweaty. You’re going to stay and drive me back?” She eyes me like she’s expecting me to say no.

  What kind of friends does she have that this is even a question? “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Cool, well, sounds like a date.”

  “Oh, no,” she stammers when I grin.
“Not a date date. Just an appointment.”

  “Yeah, of course.” I keep my expression light and fight the urge to pump my fist. “So, I’ll see you tonight?”

  “What time do we need to leave?”

  “Be downstairs at six o’clock. I just have to run an errand for my mother right before that, and then I’ll stop by.”

  Her smile falters and when she recovers, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She clears her throat, and she fidgets with one of the books she’s holding. “Your mother’s made it really clear she’s not happy about my hanging around you guys. I’m not trying to piss her off. Any more than I do just by existing.”

  My hackles rise, but not at her. My mother can be such a bully.

  “How did she make it clear?”

  “It’s okay… It’s just that I haven’t had a place to call home… in a while. I like it here and I don’t want to rock the boat. You’re nice, but maybe not.”

  “What did my mother say?” I ask, this time firmly. She looks torn—her eyes dart away from me, her teeth worry her bottom lip.

  “You can tell me,” I prod, gently.

  She sighs. “Just what every mother has said to her kids about me. If any of the kids suddenly decide to walk on the wild side, she’ll know who to blame.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.

  Suddenly, I’m ashamed of the people I’ve grown up with. Their behavior is such a contradiction to the values we use to sell people on life in Rivers Wilde.

  “I see,” I say quietly.

  “I’m happy you liked my stories. I’m glad you’re not an asshole. It’s nice to see you.” She smiles and puts the books I just handed her onto the shelf.

  I’m not letting her get away that easily. I don’t know why I’m pushing. Houston’s full of some of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen anywhere. So, it’s not that. It’s that for five years, I’ve thought about her and that night in the library. It was just that one interaction, but it made an impression. She made an impression.

  I never thought I’d see her again and now that I have, all of the pent up conversations I’ve been dying to have with her are on the tip of my tongue.