The Legend

Chapter One

"What is a legend?," The teacher began, he walked in-front of his desk and sat on top of the massive clatter that only seemed to be getting bigger as the year went on.

"Some say it's a fancy name for a story. Some say it's nothing but a story made up of unrealistic events that happens hundreds of years ago, and some," He smirked, "say it's just a guy in one of those trashy bands that you kids seem to be listening to now days,"

The class chuckled and this seemed to put a smile on Mr. Dewitts' face. He got up from his desk again and walked towards the small brown podium that he had placed in front of the class. He picked up some papers and started handing them to all the kids who sat in the front row.

"I want you guys to tell me what you think a legend is, in a five-thousand-word essay,"

The whole class groaned but the writer in me perked up. The kid in front of me tossed the stack of papers at me and all I could do was roll my eyes. I passed them along and quickly read all the requirements for the paper we would be writing.

The bell overhead rang throughout the room and the students around me dashed around to gather their things.

"This paper is due the minute you guys step through the door! If you don't then it's an automatic zero!,"

Kids rushed out of the room clearly ignoring every word he said. Mr. Dewitt shook his head and glanced in my direction, "Camilla, would you mind holding back for a minute?"

I shoved my book into the worn-out bag I've been carrying since freshman year and walked over to his desk. He ruffed through some papers and was huffing aggressively by the time he got to the third pile. "You'd think after fifteen years of teaching I would have found a way to keep everything organized,"

I gave him a soft smile, averting my eyes to my shoes and tried to make it seem like I found something interesting about them. I just felt a little out of place in the situation I was in. Not that I was really in a situation I just felt, awkward. Like I was doing something wrong just standing there.

"Here we are,"

Mr. Dewitt handed me a stack of about five pages and I carefully grabbed it out of his hands, trying to maintain as little to no contact. In the top right corner of the page my name was neatly typed in double-spaced format.

"Your last fictional paper," He stated, 

My eyes danced around the paper looking for the mistakes I may have made while thoughts of panic started sinking in,

"Is there something wrong with it? I mean, I checked it over a hundred times,"

Mr. Dewitt shook his head, "No that's just it, there's nothing wrong with it. It was a fantastic paper.,"

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "Oh, I'm sorry."

I honestly didn't know what I was apologizing for but I felt like I needed to.

Mr. Dewitt smiled; he picked up a blank notepad and fiercely started writing on it.

"Camilla, have you ever thought about taking a career path in writing?"

My head slightly turned and my eyebrows shot up, "Umm, not really,"

"Why's that?"

My throat closed with the words I wanted to say but didn't have the guts to say them, so instead I just shrugged my shoulders and went back to studying my shoes. 

"Let me guess, parents think it's not a reliable job. They want you to become something practical, like a nurse."

"They would probably think that if they knew I wrote."