by Jody Feldman
We stand there, still. The others circle around us, now with their hoods off, once, twice, and they keep going. And all I can wonder is why they picked me. I’m not possibly as smart as they are. But I am here. I’m here!
After seven circles they stop in front of us.
The first girl speaks. “You have solved the puzzles and followed that trail that’s led you to perhaps the most secret middle school club ever established. The Legend.”
Now the second girl. “You are all unique, yet you all possess each of our seven qualities: intelligence, creativity, kindness, ingenuity, leadership, spirit, and energy. You are made of the stuff of The Legend.”
The third person, a boy. “The fact that you’re here today proves you are worthy of reaching…”
Three words appear on the wall in front of us.
“The Seventh Level,” say all the voices.
The symbol of The Legend, the square over the triangle, is now beamed onto the wall.
I grow this goofy smile. I’m here. At the end.
“The Seventh Level. Our highest level,” says the next boy.
“Level One,” the voices say in unison. “You are identified. Level Two: you are selected. Level Three: you choose to play. Level Four: you solve our problems. Level Five: you deliver what’s asked of you. Level Six: you learn our secrets. Level Seven: you continue our tradition.”
“If you are ready,” says the fifth person in line, “please raise your right hand.”
I raise my hand.
The sixth person, another girl, steps forward and refers to a book in her hand. “Do you solemnly promise to keep everything you say and do today a secret? That you speak only of The Legend with others who are members? That you speak with them only in a place you know is secure? That you welcome all future Legend members as we welcome you today? That you not reveal any fellow members as part of The Legend? That you contribute to the rich legacy of The Legend? And that you act honorably at all times whether you’re representing The Legend or not?”
“I do,” we all say.
“Welcome to the tradition of The Legend,” says the last eighth grader. “And your traditions begins with another secret. Our secret code word, our password, a term you can use to alert us to situations that require our official attention.”
They all whisper so softly I can’t understand. Then they start turning up their volume, repeating the same word. “Lookout. Lookout. Lookout. Lookout! LOOKOUT!”
The spell is broken. The lights come up. The last eighth grader steps to the front of the room. “It’s time to look out for our legendary adult leader and Legend member, Mrs. Bloom.”
Dressed in a blue robe, she walks in from the right front corner. With the lights on I can see how The Legend members appeared. The wall in front of us stops just short of the walls on the side. I wonder what’s behind the front one. I’ll have to find out later.
Randall turns to me. “Mrs. Bloom was in The Legend?”
“Many of us are part of The Legend,” she says. “Seventeen active members at this time of year. Ten when our eighth graders move to the high school.” She pauses. “There’s been a lot of magic today,” she continues, “but it’s time to break from the mystical for now.”
Mrs. Bloom motions to The Legend symbol. “You’ll count seven points to our symbol. Seven points you needed to fulfill. Seven puzzles to solve. Seven objects to collect.”
To our right the wall curtain opens partway. Behind it are seven displays, mostly groups of pictures. I see my shirt button, my trash can, my nails, my doorknob, and my papers.
“These weren’t random objects,” Mrs. Bloom says. “They represent all the items we need to construct a wishing well, the centerpiece of the next school-wide Legend Event.”
The curtain opens all the way to reveal a giant diagram of a wishing well plus a full-size trash can, bucket, rope, bricks, pieces of wood, nails, and real supplies we’ll use to build it.
“Our goal,” she says, “is to find a way to grant three student wishes, randomly chosen. But more about that another time. We have other secrets to unveil first.”
Mrs. Bloom nods toward the old members. An eighth grader hands each of us a booklet. On the front it says, Lauer Middle School Handbook. Pure genius. If someone drops one of these in the hallway, no kid will ever open it.
But I’m opening it now. It looks like school rules, but starting on page seven, there’s a chunk of Legend information stuck right in the middle of other generic school stuff.
“You’ll discover much of importance in here,” Mrs. Bloom says. “Like how to access our semi-hidden page on our website. Who’s found that?”
I raise my hand. So do Randall, Sari, and a sixth grader.
“Then the four of you know you need a username and a password to get beyond that. Your username is merely your last name but backward. Your password, you’ll learn, is not in the handbook, but you will need the handbook to figure it out each time we change it. We’ll explain how that works when your minds aren’t so full from today. Temporarily use ‘LoOkOuT,’ alternating uppercase and lowercase.”
Before that sinks in, she repeats what she said on money booth day. That the teachers aren’t told anything about The Legend except on a need-to-know basis. Then she lets us in on so many more secrets, my head’s about to spin off.
“I know you won’t remember everything you’ve learned,” Mrs. Bloom says.
“Thank goodness,” I say.
She laughs. “That’s why we have the book and website. For now, though, we celebrate.”
I feel a hand grab my the sleeve. Matti drags me through the fake front corner of the room into a smaller room stocked with a huge cake, popcorn, candy, and enough sugar drinks to keep me wired for the rest of my life.
Kip comes over and we toast with 3 Musketeers bars. Then I go around the table and inhale a hunk of cake. I’m in The Legend! The Legend! And I can’t stop the hooting inside my head until Randall comes up from behind.
He leans over. “I just wanted to ask if there’s anything else you need to know.”
“Huh?”
“From what I said earlier. The cap and Jackie Muggs? Is there anything else?”
“No,” I say. “We’re good.”
“We’re good?”
“Yeah. Except…” Why am I doing this? “You stare at us during lunch sometimes.”
“Sorry.”
“You can eat with us, you know.”
He straightens up, a grin growing on his face. Then he goes to attack the cake.
Mrs. Pinchon has come in, and she witnessed that whole thing. She opens her brown eyes wide. “Things aren’t always as they appear, are they?”
I smile. “Nope.”
“Nope, indeed.” Then she gets a serious look on her face. “Are you ready, Mr. Raines? Have you filled in your accomplices?”
“I’ll do that now.” I grab Matti and Kip.
“How’d Randall get in here?” Kip asks.
“I should’ve listened to my gut,” says Matti. “I was right that day, wasn’t I?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And he’ll be eating lunch with us from now on.”
“Huh?” Kip’s lips go pale.
“He’s harmless. I’ll explain later, but there’s something else I have to explain now.”
I wave Randall over.
“Randall already knows this,” I say. “The four of us need to leave the party for a while.”
“We can’t,” Kip says. “This is the biggest party you’ll ever—”
“I know,” I say. “And Mrs. Pinchon knows, too. Believe me. You will want to do this.”
I explain the plan.
CHAPTER 34
To make this work, it can’t look like we’re conspiring. Mrs. Pinchon shows me all seven basement fire exits before she and Randall use two of them and Matti and Kip use another.
I go back through Mrs. Bloom’s room and peek out the door. Down the hall Mr. McKenzie signals the all clear. I head his wa
y, and he stays a distance in front of me to troubleshoot, just in case. But we believe all the fake Legend people will be waiting where Randall should be by now.
The clock in the hall shows 2:01. I stall for about five minutes then go to the meeting place, climb over the gate and down the stairs. I put on my swagger and pull open the door. Randall’s there. So are Marco and five other oafs. They’re all double my height and triple my weight, and if I mess up, I’m gonna be someone’s snack.
“You’re late,” Marco says. He is the leader.
“Better late than caught.”
He takes a step toward me. “What do you mean?”
“There were complications.” I look at everyone there. “One of you was behind the back bushes this morning, watching. Who?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Marco says. “Why do you need to know?”
“Whoever was there saw Mr. McKenzie yelling at me and Randall.”
“I saw part of it,” says Karl. “So?”
“So after that I needed an alibi. I’ve been waiting for my guy, for fifteen minutes. He didn’t show,” I say. “But forget him. Why are we here?”
“Like I told the others,” says Marco, “you’re here because of The Legend.”
Ha! But I need to let him play his game. I smile. Big. “We’re The Legend?”
“Gotcha!” He slaps high fives all around. “We got all of you.”
“So what are we? The anti-Legend?” I ask.
“I’m getting to that.” Marco turns around. “It’s time, Karl. Go!”
Karl runs up the stairs, then disappears from my sight.
“Here’s the deal,” says Marco. “The raw deal. The Legend rules everything, and it’s not fair. We didn’t elect them. They don’t know what we want.” His voice keeps getting louder. “And why is everything they do blue? They don’t own blue. We proved that. We put our messages in blue envelopes. We pranked with blue paint. We’ll show them. They’re self-appointed suck-ups who wouldn’t get into trouble to save their lives.”
I try not to look at Randall.
“And they get all the credit. We can do legendary things, too.” He high fives all around. “We started with bubble gum for sixth grade. Good going, Raines. Next week it’s rubber frogs for seventh grade. And we’ll all decide what’s for eighth grade. All of us.
“Four of us started this, and we picked you because you have guts, you’ve been shoved around, and none of you will ever be part of the so-called Legend of Lauer.”
I keep myself from laughing.
“And now that you’re with us, you’re in for life. You’ve already pranked, so if you back out, you’re dead meat with the principals, the police, and with us. Together we will do things the school will never forget. Like what we’re doing today.”
I’m ready to get out of here. Put my plan into action. Know it’s gonna work.
“Denvie, you got the liquid soap. Raines, you got the syrup. We poured them into the buckets Cranston got.” He points to the gross mixture. “We’ll slop it around with the mops and brooms. We also swiped graffiti markers.” He pounds on the door that goes into the school, the one with the alarm. “When Karl comes around and opens up, we go inside and—”
“Tra-vis! Travis Raines!” Kip’s right on cue. “Travis Raines!” His voice grows louder.
“He’s not here!” Matti shouts. “Now we’ll be late!”
“He’s your alibi, Raines? That suck-up snitch?” Marco comes towering over me. “He’s the reason I got detention last month. Why’d you think I tried to ax his hat?”
Marco’s about to pummel me. And it looks like Karl, who just came in through the school-side door, is ready as his backup.
“He doesn’t know why I’m here. I swear.” I look Marco in the eye. “I have to get rid of him before he starts poking around.”
Marco’s hand curls into a fist. “If you say anything…”
“I won’t. And I’ll take a witness.” I turn. “Randall. C’mon.”
“Yeah,” says Marco. “You watch him, Randall.”
I run up the stairs and jump over the gate before he changes his mind. Randall’s right behind me. We jog toward Matti and Kip.
“Where were you?” says Matti. “And what’s the oaf doing here?”
“He’s good,” I say. “He’s our new friend. Take us as a package or forget it.”
“Forget it!” Matti yells. “You don’t control me. You don’t say what I do or not do!”
I glare at Matti. She glares back at me. Inside I’m laughing. “Fine,” I say. “Go with your little boyfriend, the two of you. Just give me my note first.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” says Kip. “You are such a jerk!” Poor Kip can’t act to save his life. At least he’s loud. He reaches into one pocket. Then frantically into all of them.
Randall gets up real close to him. “Give him his note.”
Kip shrinks back. “I don’t know where it is.” He runs, searching the ground.
That was our only stall tactic. The police were supposed to be here by now.
Leave it to Matti to keep this act going. She pulls a pen and pad of paper from her purse. “Just write another one, Kip.”
“C’mon!” I yell. “I don’t have all day.”
“Hurry!” I don’t know if Randall’s talking to Kip or urging the police to get here.
Kip takes the cap off the pen and opens the pad, stall-mode style. He writes and—
Finally! Flash of metal. The police stride from the parking lot.
I head-point in their direction. “Get out of here,” I say to Matti, Kip, and Randall. I rush toward the stairwell, bug out my eyes, frantically wave my arms back and forth in warning. I mouth, POLICE! but even if those cruds can read my lips, they’re toast.
I book it around the corner, into the side door where Randall’s standing with Mrs. Pinchon. “Where are Matti and Kip?”
“I sent them back to the festivities,” says Mrs. Pinchon.
I hand her my voice-activated tape recorder.
“I’m proud of you,” she says. “And I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”
“I guess you had reason.”
A smile beams from her face but fades fast. “You do understand,” she says, “those kids will implicate both of you, and I won’t be able to ignore it. You weren’t totally innocent.”
Randall takes in a small gasp.
“He’s not used to being in trouble,” I say.
“I know,” says Mrs. Pinchon. “So, Mr. Raines, Mr. Denvie. Appropriate punishment?”
I laugh.
Mrs. Pinchon’s cell phone rings. She steps aside.
“We’re in trouble, Travis,” Randall whisper-yells. “You have to take this more seriously or you’ll make it worse.”
“It’s okay,” I say to him. “I know what I’m doing.”
Mrs. Pinchon ends her call. “So, you were saying, Mr. Raines. Appropriate punishment?”
I smile. Big. “We’ll be waiting outside our houses by seven o’clock Monday morning. You’ll be our bus, our bicycle, and our legs for the week. And we get the honor and privilege of spending the mornings and afternoons in your office.”
“Perfect.”
Randall looks ill, but he’ll get over it.
“It’s not that bad, Randall. Really.”
“And don’t worry, Mr. Denvie,” she says. “Your parents and coaches will know it’s only for your protection. No permanent record.”
He nods.
“And now,” Mrs. Pinchon says, “they need you back downstairs. You’re not finished.”
CHAPTER 35
I don’t get a chance to catch my breath. I don’t get a chance to imagine what happened when the police charged in or when Mrs. Pinchon got there afterward.
“You think they really arrested them?” I ask Randall.
“I don’t know, but if we get a whole week in Mrs. Pinchon’s office, I hate to see what they get.”
I don’t hate to see. I’m exc
ited to see.
“Hey, Trav?” Randall says. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You didn’t have to help me this morning or save me this afternoon.”
I shrug. I guess I didn’t.
We go back into Mrs. Bloom’s room, through the Toxic Closet, and downstairs, where the other Legend members are playing video games and pinball and banging away on computers that were hidden by the other side curtain.
Mrs. Bloom waves us over. “I assume you’ve taken care of business?”
“Yes, we did.”
She gathers everyone together. “As Legend members,” she says, “you’ll find you always need to be ready for the unexpected. The unexpected happened earlier this morning, but the situation is now under complete control, thanks to Randall and Travis.”
People clap for us. Except for soccer, I don’t think anyone’s clapped for me before. Not when I truly deserved it. I try to stop smiling. I do stop myself from taking a bow.
“Thank you for your patience,” Mrs. Bloom says.
The lights go down. The screen jumps to life and shows a person in a blue robe. He steps into the light and lowers his hood. It’s Chase Maclin!
“Most of you know that I am an original Legend. Being a Legend not only helped give me the confidence to launch my career, it also taught me the importance of being an honorable person, doing my best, and giving back, even a little, to the people and communities that have given me so much.
“Past Legend members will tell you, my new partners, that I make every attempt to be there for this piece of your initiation. Today, however, it was impossible. I do promise I’ll make it up to you soon.” He winks. “See ya.”
The screen goes blank.
“‘See ya?’ You think he really means it?” I say to Randall.
Matti leans over from behind. “Just wait.”
For what? “Matti! Wait for what?”
Mrs. Bloom comes to the front of the room. “It’s time to go,” she says.
“Already?” My mouth can’t help it.
“Already,” she says. “But your day isn’t over.” She leads us through a side door, down one hall, then another. We climb a stairway to a storage room with desks and tables and chairs and boxes and an exit door. We’re at the side loading dock.