Capone's Legacy

Nothing was moving. I wasn't moving.

I was trapped in my own body, spectating the world around me.

A memory—the same dream I'd been having since my parents died. It was the school grounds in an area between our gymnasium and cafeteria. Tall, brick walls felt like they were closing in on me each passing day, every passing week.

I was sitting on the concrete as streams of highschoolers flowed in front of me. No one looked at me. No one ever did. This was the back street where all our school's loners sat.

Today, a familiar face had sat across from me, too far away to talk with. She was a blonde transfer student who couldn't make friends. Her heavy German accent and choice of wearing dresses a grandma might wear kept everyone away. But every now and then, I'd see those emerald eyes behind her glasses sneak a glance at me.

She was cute. Though there was no way I could ever approach her.

Sigh. I brought my backpack to my lap and pulled out a sandwich. Cooking at home was fun, but it couldn't match what mom could make. I'd need to get better fast or Fate would starve.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, a descending crow flapped its wings until perching along our gymnasium roof. They stared at me from afar like they usually did—a crow I'd named Capone. Even at a distance I could see myriad white scratches on their beak, and ruffled feathers obtained from scuffles with birds or experiences with humans.

Capone didn't trust others. He was a loner like me. He never came down to the pavement unless others weren't around. A steady flow of students during lunch break always kept him away.

I checked to my left and right: a break in people walking past arrived. Seizing the moment, I tossed a chunk of sandwich out. It landed a bit further than my feet; this was the game me and Capone would often play.

Can we lure him down to eat today? Tempting Capone with food had become my pastime during lunch. Though cautious, he'd begun trusting me more these days. Crows were considered the smartest birds on Earth, capable of remembering faces and holding grudges. But just the same, they could also recall those who'd shown them kindness.

The sandwich piece a meter from my feet remained untouched. Is it still too close? Guess I'll try further out.

Capone, still perched above, watched me toss out another sandwich chunk. This time it landed far from me or anyone else. Though now, I noticed that blonde girl sitting by the other wall spectating me too. She smiled warmly.

We heard sounds of wings fluttering. Capone leapt off his brick wall and sailed down towards the food I'd tossed to the walkway. All eyes were on him as he gobbled up the sandwich chunk before eyeing the other piece by my feet.

I held my breath as Capone did cute little hops towards me. But just when he was one leap away, his head turned, alarmed by an approaching group of teens.

It was the loud exhibitionists—the usual "popular" kids. Surrounded by girls and several lackeys, everyone huddled around one guy wearing a red letterman jacket. He had features all women lusted for, from his square jawline to the ebony-black of his styled hair. Piercing yet gentle silver eyes of his didn't even notice when Capone flew away in panic.

The chic posse passed by without noticing me either, like always. I was invisible until people needed something. It was mostly birds that cared enough to even look in my direction.

But the girl sitting across from me seemed disappointed. Maybe all she ever cared about was Capone too.

Either way, I finished off my sandwich as the bell to go to class rang. I'd just try again with Capone tomorrow, and perhaps summon enough courage to talk with that girl.

This was all the past though—just a memory. A dream I played along with whenever it appeared. They were painful reminders at first, but these days also marked when I'd meet people that would influence the rest of my life.

Then somewhere, I heard two loud knocks on a door:

Knock.

Knock.

*

"H-Huh?"

I awoke from napping on my bed. A dizziness settled in while I sat up and peered around. The familiar room covered in movie posters still smelled slightly damp from being flooded days ago. Though I'd since cleaned and organized things well.

"Chance?" A girl's voice outside the door said.

"Oh, Glint! Come in."

A gorgeous blonde with hair curled into waves stepped in. She donned the same white dress from yesterday, exposing most of her neck and shoulders. But now an aroma of citrus tang hovered around her—my sister's favorite perfume.

"You changed your hairstyle?" I said.

"Mm." Glint spoke while looking around. "I thought I'd try experimenting since your friend is coming over."

Ah, that's right. He's gonna be here soon. "Your hair came out nice. I like it."

"Thanks, hehe. Took a while to get right."

I watched her walk about, curiously examining my room. It was the first time she'd been here since arriving that fateful night.

Glint peered up at a mafia poster. "Hmm? I'm wondering now if your world had Al Capone."

"Yeah?" I said. "Didn't know we shared people between dimensions too."

"Maybe there's clones of us living somewhere out there."

That'd be freaky. But it was good food for thought. From what I recalled from that fairy tale, Glint's world mirrored ours insofar as needed. I'd confirmed historical figures, some inventions, events, and most locations were shared. But where did similarities end? And who was sitting on the throne ruling over both worlds?

Glint shifted her attention towards my dresser where a Repose Mirror once stood on top. All that remained was an upright, blank board.

"I still feel kinda bad about breaking your mirror," she said. "In my world, there's a superstition about breaking mirrors."

"What kind?" I said from the bed, curious.

"Hmmm, it basically just says if you break a mirror, you get seven years of bad luck."

Bad luck? It was a foreign concept to me. But it wasn't surprising we didn't share all myths either. "Huh. Well here, breaking a mirror just lands you in jail, haha."

"Because mirrors are valuable?"

"Definitely." I raised three fingers before counting them. "There's three different types of mirrors in this world: Repose, Homes, and Communals. Reposes are cheapest since they can't be used as doorways. Home Mirrors—that cost about $5,000—are how most people teleport from their houses. And Communals are the strongest kind of mirror that only governments can buy."

"Wait, so there's no like, little mirrors here?"

I shook my head. "Illegal. Mirrors and the materials to make them are more regulated than drugs. That's why the BOPO visited just to collect my mirror shards."

Glint's eyes drooped down, like she didn't know what to say. Who could blame her? Realizing you'd spawned into a world where your own reflection wasn't a right would faze anyone.

But just when I was gonna try cheering her up, my watch alarm started beeping. I rolled down my sleeve to check the time. "Ah. Chad is waiting now. Gotta go unlock our Home mirror."

"Oh! I'll do it!" Glint raised her hand. "I can help that much."

"Hmm? Do you know how unlocking works?"

"Yeah! Just turn the red dial, right?"

After I confirmed with a nod, she spun around and rushed downstairs, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Really hope she doesn't feel indebted to me or anything. I looked across towards my dresser. No one should be living with a cloud over their head.

Glint soon ran back into my room with a newspaper in hand. She was panting as if exhausted from all the scuttling I heard outside.

"I-It's unlocked now," she said. "Should I wait downstairs?"

"Nah, my friend will just come up here. Sit somewhere for now."

She took a seat on my gamer chair I hadn't used in days. Since the room flooded, water had fried my PC.

Then from downstairs, I heard a guy's voice calling me. "Ay! Yo! Chance! Ya' here?"

"Come upstairs!" I said.

The bustling of footsteps hustling up the stairs rang. I was sitting patiently on my bed while Glint opened her newspaper and began reading, hiding a nervous face.

Hasn't she read that newspaper tons already? Well, she kinda just likes hiding behind things sometimes.

"Yo! Yo!" Chad burst into the doorway. My friend—clad in punk rock clothes—sported sunglasses and a green mohawk that leaked radioactive amounts of hairspray. Almost every part of him had a sheen to it, down to his black, studded boots.

"What's up," I said.

"We lit! Are we gonna have fun toda—" He stopped himself and pointed. "Wait, who's that sitting there?"

Glint shyly raised the newspaper higher to hide herself better. She didn't say anything, but I could see her hands shaking.

I sighed. "There's a favor I gotta ask you, Chad."

"Huh? Favor?"

The long explanation began. Chad stayed standing while I detailed everything about Glint: how she hailed from a parallel world, infiltrated and broke my Repose Mirror, and the fact she was now living with me for the foreseeable future.

"I know it's a lot to take in," I said, "but it's all tru—"

"Hold up!" Chad said, stomping towards me. "How do we know she's not a Whisperer!"

Hmmm? It was a valid critique that I couldn't provide an excuse beyond just trusting her. Glint and I had grown close over the past few days, and she didn't seem at all like someone with underlying motives. Though maybe . . .

I glanced towards her. Glint in my gamer chair hadn't lowered the newspaper or spoken this whole time. It wasn't like her to be this nervous. But perhaps it had to do with Chad's overbearing, eccentric nature. He seemed angry too, with snarled lips and furrowed brows.

"Whisperers are nothin' but trouble!" he yelled before pointing at her. "Maybe she's just playing you! Like they played my big brother one time!"

"This is different," I said. "Let's just calm down and discus—"

"Whisperers are all the same! Ya' gotta be sure she's not one of them. If you're not positive then maybe—"

"I am not a Whisperer." Glint finally lowered her newspaper to face him. Sapphire eyes burning with umbrage conveyed all the offense she'd been hiding until now. It was a sharp tone I hadn't heard from her before, almost an entirely new person.

The room stayed silent while they both stared at each other. Then like a switch flipped, Chad began chuckling.

"Hey, hey, Chance," he told me. "She kinda looks like your ex-girlfriend."

Immediately I sent him a death glare—a warning of not reading the room. My ex wasn't something I'd brought up with Glint before, and I wasn't sure how she'd take it.

Glint's eyes didn't even blink. She just took a deep breath before speaking.

"I wouldn't ever hurt Chance," she said. "I trust him and he trusts me. So if I was a Whisperer, there's no way I wouldn't have done something bad by now or stuck around. I'll stay as long as he lets me."

The powerful words resonated with me. I looked towards her, surprised, until she gave me a glance and smiled.

As if satisfied, Chad reached over to pat me on the back before giving Glint a thumbs up.

"If Chance likes you, I like you," he said. "Sorry about doubting you, miss."

"I-It's fine . . ." She tried laughing it off. "Chance talks lots about you too, hehe."

"Hey now! What's this rascal say about me, huh?"

The bedroom filled with laughter as we all tried talking over one another. Everyone's heavy mood lifted, almost like our debates never happened. Even Glint who was shy around strangers wore a big grin.

But as Chad finished trying to stab me with his mohawk, he burped.

"By the way," he said, "what was that favor you were gonna ask me, bro?"

Moment of truth . . . I reached into my pocket to pull out a passport. The topic was something Glint and I discussed prior, and we'd both given our consent. "Listen Chad—there's only one way we can travel around the world, right? A passport. And since I promised Glint I'd show her the world, I need your big brother to make a fake passport for her. Please."

Even with his sunglasses on, Chad's face couldn't mask confusion. It was the first time I'd humored his underworld connections—networks established to help make a living. But even in high school, I knew he was squeamish about the subject.

"Hey, hey," he replied. "Passports aren't something I can just do."

"You brought your camera like I said, right?"

"Yeah? It's downstairs."

"Then that's all you need."

Chad turned towards Glint again. He stepped closer to examine her, grasping his chin as if giving Glint's body an appraisal. She shrunk into the gamer chair while trying to use the newspaper to hide herself.

"She'll need a suit," Chad said, serious. "Some makeup too. And we'll want a plain white background."

"Yeah!" I leapt out of the bed. "I can provide all that! So you'll do it then?"

It was hard getting a read on him—stern or conflicted. But he bit into his thumbnail before replying.

"If I ask my big bro directly," he said, "I think I could convince him to do a rush-order."

I was already digging through a desk drawer. It took another few seconds before I fished out a photo.

"Here." I handed him the picture. "This is my thanks in advance."

"Eh? Woah, woah! Lookit this!"

In his hands was an old photograph of Capone the crow. The ruffled bird had scratches on his beak that made him recognizable at a glance, with withered, disheveled feathers hinting at old age.

"Hmmm?" Glint leaned in from her chair. "Isn't that just a crow?"

"Not just any crow! This is the crow!" Excited Chad began hopping up and down. "Capone here is the reason me and Chance became good pals! But we'd only gotten one good pic before Capone stopped showing up at school."

"And Chad's always wanted the original picture," I said. "So maybe he'll take that as payment for the passport?"

"Sure, sure." His hand carefully slid the photo into his pocket. "Let's just hurry this along."

Our hustle began. Chad became a trainer, advising Glint on how to properly pose for a passport photo, make an approved facial expression, and how much makeup she should apply. Meanwhile, I called my sister at work and asked if she could lend one of her suits and makeup kits.

The end result was Glint standing in heels again, with her back to a plain, white wall in our living room. She'd donned Fate's spare suit and now had an air of business. But she was more stiff than someone waiting for their execution staring down a gun barrel—or in this case, camera lens.

Chad holding the camera frowned. "Nah, that ain't right. You can't look so deadpan either. Remember, curve your lips up just a little."

"Why do we gotta prepare all this stuff anyway?" I said behind him.

"Litmus test," Chad said while adjusting the lens. "Every year, the world government adopts fresh internal policies for passport photos. So maybe with like a three-year range, new poses or clothes get adopted to help weed out fake passport photos."

"So we're in a range for girls to wear suits? And applying just a little makeup?"

"Yep." Chad snapped some photos. "It's crazy they can even tell if she's wearing high-heels or not. So we're goin' all the way even just for an upper-torso shot."

Glint kept standing with both hands clasped at her waist, pushing her chest out. But as more pictures were taken, her legs started wobbling.

"Th-These are the biggest heels I've ever worn . . . " she said. "Are we done?"

"Just one more." Chad raised his camera. "Would ya' mind giving a cute wink?"

"Huh? For the passport photo?"

"No, for my brother that might like it, haha."

I lightly punched Chad's arm as we all laughed. But Glint humored him with a wink towards the camera, flashing her natural smile. Seeing her have fun and come out from her shell was all that mattered to me.

While they finished their photoshoot, I ventured into the kitchen and put on my apron. We'd have three bellies to fill soon. And firing up the stove was the least I could do for the two people who'd brightened my life.

Then, from around the corner, Glint with wobbling legs stumbled into our kitchen. Her black high-heels click-clacked along the tiles until she plopped into a chair.

"Tired?" I asked.

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before sighing. "Pooped. But I wanted to see if you needed help with anything."

"Let's not burn the house down today, haha."

"G-Geez . . ."

But even as I began searing eggs, I couldn't help but imagine how nice it'd be having Glint by my side. What was that old phrase? Give someone a fish and they'll eat for a day; teach someone how to fish and they'll eat for a lifetime. Teaching Glint how to cook might be a good idea. Though there were already litanies of upcoming events for her.

I'd help her all the way.