I make my way down the hill to the beach. On the surface, it’s a beach like any I’ve seen in San Sequoia or Tomarang, but there’s something different about it. The sand is harsher, rockier, and denser. It’s not a place that welcomes a beach towel, bare feet, and a string bikini. But it’s beautiful, the kind of beauty that has to be earned.
I stare out over the water and spot the lighthouse I saw on Deadgrass Isle. Mom and I didn’t get the chance to climb it, but I’m fine with that. Even from this far away, it looks a little menacing. Watching the waves flow in and out and listening to the cries of the seagulls lull me into a deep trance, almost like an out-of-body experience, as I try to find the part of myself that could consider this place home.
A chilly breeze snaps me back to attention, and I’m suddenly aware that I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here in the sand. I don’t want Mom to worry, so I turn my back to the waves and use my phone’s GPS to guide me toward her house. I make my way up the hill until I reach a small park that distracts me from where I’m supposed to be going.
The pretty flowers, the greenhouse, and the pond with the flowing waterfall and koi fish make the place feel like a tiny oasis in the middle of a crappy-weather town. There’s something foreign and unusual about it. It doesn’t quite belong here. I walk around to the front and see a large stone monument with a plaque that gives the place a name: Wallace Community Garden.
Tambara: Who the heck is the Wallace family?
Suddenly, a voice speaks up behind me.
Unknown Guy: You don’t look very impressed.
I turn to get a quick glimpse of the speaker, ready to ask him why he’s all up in my business. But my words catch in my throat for a moment. Not because he’s incredibly good-looking or anything. He’s not a bad-looking guy, but he’s no Udom. There’s just something about him that stands out. He looks at home here, way too sure of himself. I finally find my words, prepared to knock him down a few pegs.
Tambara: Should I be? No one even asked you.
Unknown Guy: It looks a bit out of place here, doesn’t it? I always thought so, but it makes sense based on the history of the place.
This is not the reaction I was expecting. He doesn’t even respond to the venom in my tone. I try again, making sure my words are extra sharp.
Tambara: You seem to know an awful lot about it. Do you own it or something?
Unknown Guy: No, but it used to belong to my brother before he sold it to the city.
This gives me pause.
Tambara: So I take it you’re a Wallace and this is your family’s park?
Who the heck is this guy?
Marvel: Well, sorta. Wallace has been my family name for at least six generations, but I go by O’Neal, my grandfather’s family name. I’m Marvel, by the way.
I ignore the introduction and focus on trying to hide the fact that I’m actually impressed. Who is this family that has an entire park dedicated in their name?
Tambara: So you live here?
Marvel: I grew up here, but now I live in Oasis Springs. I’m visiting my older brother, who lives in our family home through those trees. You’re not from around here, though.
It’s not a question. He looks me over like he’s reading a book. It makes me feel exposed.
I stick my chin out as if I have something to prove.
Tambara: Shows what you know. I was born here. You know that factory house by the docks?
Marvel: Yeah.
Tambara: There — I was born there. My mom just moved back here. She’s the one with the frog exhibit in the museum.
I don’t know why I feel the need to add that last part. But again, it doesn’t have the effect I was expecting.
Marvel: Cool.
Marvel doesn’t seem impressed. He doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he turns and walks toward the pond. I watch his movements and body language as he feeds the fish. Why isn’t he reacting the way I want him to?
Everything in me says I should just ignore this guy and head back to my mom’s place. But I need to know why my words don’t bother him. I open my mouth to question him, but he speaks up before I get the chance.
Marvel: My brother used to live on this lot.** In a tent. He ate, slept, and even showered outside, and it didn’t matter if it rained or snowed.
Okay, why is he saying this? I shouldn’t care, but I feel compelled to sit down and hear him out.
Marvel: People thought he was homeless. They called him the “wild man.” There were articles written about him and everything. They looked down on him, but little did they know, my father was Vice President of one of the most profitable companies in San Myshuno.
Tambara: Was?
Marvel: Yeah, he’s gone now. My mother too.
Tambara: Sorry.
Marvel: Thanks.
Marvel smoothly changes the subject.
Marvel: These fish are named after me and my brothers. This one is Marvel, that one is Opus. *reaches out over the water* And that one way in the back by itself is named after my older brother. I’ve heard people calling it “wild man”, but my brother’s name is Ajay.
After Marvel finishes talking about the fish, he walks over to where I’m sitting.
Marvel: I think you’d like Brindleton Bay if you give it a chance and stop trying to rise above it. It smells like fish, but even that has its charm.
I open my mouth and close it again before I figure out what to say.
Tambara: You talk like you know me.
He smiles slightly.
Marvel: I don’t, but I’m curious to see if I’m right. Look me up on Simstagram. Maybe if you come back, I can show you around.
I look down and pull out my phone, prepared to find his social media page.
Tambara: My mother already—
I look up and see that Marvel is already running off. He didn’t even stick around to make sure I could find him. He’s assuming I still remember his name, and that pisses me off and intrigues me at the same time. The funny thing is, I remember it very well. His name is Marvel O’Neal of the Wallace family.
He didn’t even bother to ask mine.
I stare after him, not sure what to make of this mysterious guy whose family has a park dedicated to them.
I try to shake off my disbelief. Marvel really had some nerve. Then I head back to Mom’s house. She’s standing outside when I get there.
Maia: So what do you think of Brindleton Bay?
There’s a lot I’m thinking, but I need some time to sort through it. I give her the simplest answer.
Tambara: It’s okay.
Mom’s smile is telling. My answer is exactly what she expected, which annoys me further. I guess I’m just an open book today.
Maia: Thanks so much for visiting! Come back as much as you want. You’re always welcome here. Brindleton Bay will always be your home too.
According to Marvel, it isn’t. But I brush that thought out of my mind. Forget that guy and forget this cloudy, damp, smelly old town.
I can feel a shift in myself, more like a pressing need, as I arrive back home. My visit to Brindleton Bay was filled with history and legacy. Not only the Wallace family’s but Mom’s as well.
It leaves me wondering what my legacy will be. Besides being rich with money I didn’t earn, what will people remember me for after I’m gone?
The question could easily leave me feeling helpless, but I own a horse and a ranch. If that doesn’t make me special, nothing will. I enter the gate and don’t even bother trying to find Juanita. I run straight to Finesse.
My mom has her frogs, and Marvel’s family has the “wild man.” I want people to see me as the best barrel racer and ranch owner in Chestnut Ridge. This place will be my monument. I can even name it the Banks Dynasty Ranch.
I ride, using all the techniques and skills I’ve picked up over the years, until Finesse and I can get around every barrel fast and smooth. I’ll be ready to win gold during our next intermediate competition.
**Link takes you to Tumblr
(Generation 5 Chapter Summaries)
