The woman who brought us to the back said that AK47 and I were supposed to wait outside, on chairs that did not feel great to sit on. Gert went inside with the Dean, a tall woman with short curly hair. I held out my hand to give him a dab but AK47 pushed my hand down.
“Not now,” she whispered.
Gert looked back for a second before going inside. And then the door closed.
* * *
On either side of the door to the Dean’s office was glass, not the kind you can see through but the kind that was cloudy. I could only kind of see Gert’s shirt on the other side. It was almost like what things looked like when you opened your eyes underwater. I could also kind of hear them talking, not so much Gert but the Dean.
She had a very loud voice, the powerful kind.
“Why is he so afraid?” I asked AK47. “He is smart.”
“Don’t I know it. Your brother has a bit of a failure complex. He is so afraid of screwing up that he’d rather not try.”
“That sounds like something Dr. Laird would say.”
“Man, it probably is something he’s said. My best friend was like that when I was a kid. She was pretty, Zee, and smart as hell.”
“What happened to her?”
“Got pregnant when she was, like, fifteen. Started doing drugs.”
I told her I didn’t understand. Why would someone screw up on purpose?
“Well, I can’t speak for her, but my thinking on Gert is he’s gone through life with people thinking he’s one way, dumb, a thug, whatever, and it’s less scary to have people keep thinking that than to try to prove them wrong and fail and know that they were right all along.”
But Gert was smart, I said, and the people who didn’t believe in him were shit-heels. AK47 said that we might know that, but the problem was that Gert didn’t know it.
“It’s hard for him. I get it,” she said.
I wasn’t sure I got it. For me, my legend was about showing people that I was not dumb or a shit-heel, that I could help the tribe and also show the world that people like me and Marxy could become powerful. Gert not knowing that he was powerful and believing when people thought he was dumb and a thug was like the opposite of a legend.
It was like being given a suit of armor and a magical weapon, like the sword Lævateinn, and leaving it in its sheath, even when it’s time to use it in battle.
AK47 slapped my leg and got up and said she had to go to the bathroom. “Don’t move, okay?” she said.
And as soon as she was gone I did move. I went to the door and put my ear to the glass to see if I could understand anything people were saying. The glass was too powerful, though.
Since Gert wasn’t talking very much, I thought he was losing the battle. Maybe she had even defeated him and told him he couldn’t go back to school. That would be disastrous. I needed to go inside and provide backup for him, the way warriors support other warriors when they are losing.
I would be his reinforcements.
Turning the handle, I pushed open the door, making sure to stand very tall and to make myself look as big as possible.
The Dean was behind the desk. Gert had one leg crossed over the other and was sitting in a small chair, while the Dean’s chair was gargantuan, like the throne Odin sits on in Valhalla.
“I think you should allow Gert back into school,” I said.
“And you are?” the Dean said.
Gert stood up. “Sorry, this is my sister. Zelda, this is Dean Horowitz.”
“Ah,” the Dean said. “The one you wrote about in your scholarship essay. Do you want to sit down?” She pointed to the chair beside Gert.
“No. I want you to take Gert back. I think he is the smartest person going to this college, and he might be different from almost everyone but that is what makes him a powerful student.”
AK47 came up behind me. “Shit, sorry. I had to go to the bathroom and she just went rogue.” She waved at the Dean. “Hi. Sorry.” AK47 tried to pull me out of the room.
“Not until she agrees to let Gert in.”
The Dean laughed. She put up her hands. “Okay, okay. Gert, you just fill out these forms. Get them back to me. Pass summer school, and we’re back in the saddle. Fair?”
“Fair,” Gert said.
They shook hands and Gert took the forms.
Outside, Gert sighed. “She had already agreed to let me back in, you goon,” he said. “And where were you?” he said to AK47.
“Bladder the size of a thimble. Remember?” AK47 took Gert’s hand. “But you have to admit, she was willing to go to battle for you.”
We started walking out of the Dean’s office, down the hallway and past the line of people.
“I was,” I said. “Part of being legendary is proving that you can pick up the sword and stand up for what is good and right.”
Gert raised his eyebrow. “That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?”
I stopped walking. “I’m talking about how you are not dumb or a thug and should start believing in yourself and your own legend, which involves kicking ass in your classes.” Being legendary was about taking all of the power that the gods have given you and making the most out of them, I said.
Gert put his big arms around our shoulders as we left the ugly air-conditioned building. “My tribe,” he said, practically pulling us along with him.
I stopped and said I had to go to the bathroom, and told AK47 and Gert I would meet them at the door of the building.
Instead of going to the bathroom, I ran back to the Dean’s office and knocked on the door. The Dean opened it.
“Did you forget something?” she asked, and I said yes and she asked me to come inside.
I stood in front of her desk and took a deep breath while the Dean sat down. She looked up. “Can I help you?” she asked.
I held out my fist.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s called a dab. It is a sign of respect within my tribe.”
She waited for a second before standing up and straightening out her skirt.
“Your brother was right,” she said, dabbing me back. “You are a brave girl.”
“He said that?”
She said that I was her favorite part of Gert’s scholarship letter. She shook her head. “What you two have been through. My God.”
“Can I read it?”
“Pardon?”
“The letter. Gert won’t let me read it because he says it’s none of my business and—”
The Dean held up her hand. “Stop right there. That’s something you’ll need to sort out with him.” She walked me to the door. “You are the first person I have ever dabbed,” she said, opening it for me. “And I’m honored to have earned your respect.”
chapter seventeen
Sundays were very serious days at the library because of the Sunday Bunny Reading Hour. Parents brought their young children to come listen to a woman with bunny ears play a small guitar and read from books. When I found out that the Sunday Bunny Reading Hour was why everyone at the library hated working on Sundays, I did not understand. Reading is good for making your brain stronger, and guitars and music are good to listen to.
For the Sunday Bunny Reading Hour we had to put pillows around the Rumpus Room for parents to sit on, and then the babies would sit on their laps.