The F Factor (6 page)

“You're one of Pat's friends, right? I think I saw you with him,” she said and then offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I'm terrible with names.”

“I'm Javier Ávila.” He cleared the squeak out of his voice. “We met last week.”

She breathed a laugh and pointed at him playfully. “Oh, yes! I just forgot. Any chance you've seen Pat today?”

“We have morning classes together, but I haven't seen him this afternoon.”

Feliz looked from side to side. “I know I'm not supposed to wander around the school alone. I don't want to get into trouble, you know?”

Javier nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Her light brown eyes sparkled with touches of gold. “But you're one of his friends, right? Could you look for him? My car's near the baseball field.”

What else could he do? He smiled at Feliz. “I'll try and find him.”

“Great! I owe you one!” She stood up on her toes and gave him a finger wave. “See you later!”

As she turned away, he could only fantasize about what a girl like Feliz might “owe” him. He walked in another direction, searching through empty classrooms. Could Pat have fallen asleep and no one bothered to wake him up? He walked into two of the bathrooms, and finally went toward the administration wing. Maybe Pat got into trouble and was sitting up there.

As Javier reached the main hall, Pat walked out of Brother Calvin's office. The guy's brown face drooped from eyelids to lips. He saw Javier and shook his head. “I tried to get into a different elective. Brother Calvin won't let me switch. Sorry, man, you're stuck with me.”

Javier wanted a different partner, sure, but he didn't want Pat to feel like a total loser. “We're stuck with each other, Pat. I don't know anything about broadcasting either. At least you had the guts to ask Brother Calvin to change your schedule. I just let things happen and go along. I hate dealing with the man unless I have to.”

Pat nodded. “Me too.” His eyes widened as if he had just remembered something. “Oh, man, I bet my sister's waiting for me. I didn't expect Ol' Calavera to start lecturing me about college after I asked for a schedule change.”

“I saw Feliz. She said the car's by the baseball field.”

“You talked to my sister?” He gave Javier a pointed stare. “Just stay away from her. She doesn't need guys like you sniffing around her.”

Javier stepped back, hurt and insulted by Pat's quick judgment. “I'm not some horny dog, Pat. I was trying to help keep your sister out of trouble. Feliz broke the rules by coming inside the building, so I said I would look for you … and just for the record, I have two sisters myself.”

“So where do they go to school?”

“They both work in Lubbock. They're older than me, but they're just as pretty as your sister.”

“Then you know how it is, Javier.” Pat's glare diminished but not much. “Guys just want to be your friend so they can meet your sister. I never knew any guy who wanted something different.”

What could he say? Javier
was
interested in Feliz. “Uh, well, you'd better go find your sister, Pat. She might come back inside and get into big trouble with Mr. Q.”

Pat looked at Javier for a long moment. “Okay.” He turned away, took a few steps, and looked back at Javier. “Where do you live anyway?”

“Across from Woodlawn Lake. Why?”

Pat's face brightened up. “Yeah? My
abuelita
lives near there.”

Javier felt a sudden itch under the toes of both feet.

“I live with my grandmother during the week,” Pat said. “You need a ride home?”

Javier's fingers wrapped tight around the strap of his backpack. He thought of his itchy feet, his algebra homework, and his weekend job to wash the work trucks for his father—anything to keep a goofy grin from spreading across his face. He even tried to sound bored when he said, “Thanks, Pat. Anything is better than the school bus.”

Pat gave a sly smile. “You might change your mind later. Come on.” He motioned to Javier, and the two of them walked out of the front door of the school.

The August heat slammed down on them, so aside from “Man, it's a living hell out here,” Pat and Javier didn't say much as they trudged around the buildings toward the large parking lot behind the school. By the time they got close to the classy black sports vehicle, Javier felt like he was Ignacio's sweaty twin.

The car hummed in its space, engine purring and windows rolled up. As soon as Pat opened the front passenger door and Javier opened the door behind it, the air-conditioning rushed into their faces.

“Where have you been? Some of us have a life, you know!” Feliz's angry voice raised high above the noise of the air conditioner.

“Sorry. Hey! Javier lives near Welita's house. He needs a ride home,” Pat said as he climbed inside the car.

Javier tried to see Feliz's expression, but she turned away and said, “Whatever! Let's just go!”

Javier didn't want to make Feliz angrier, so he quickly tossed his backpack on the floor, then pulled himself into the vehicle. He had never seen the luxury of ashgray leather seats, a monitor for each person in the backseat to watch his own movie, and cup holders on the doors and between the backseats.

Wearing narrow, dark sunglasses, Feliz raised her head and looked into the rearview mirror. “I get off on Woodlawn to go to my grandmother's house. Where do I have to take you?”

Have you already forgotten you owe me?
Javier thought, and just said, “I live on the corner of Woodlawn and Lake streets.”

Feliz adjusted her sunglasses. “Close the door, Pat. I need to get home.”

Pat cranked up the music. The harsh guitars of heavy metal thundered inside the car. Javier felt invisible and stupid, not worthy enough for a girl like Feliz to remember.

He clicked his seatbelt into place just as Feliz shifted the vehicle into reverse. The mighty vehicle rolled back, back, back then stopped with a jerky lurch. She stomped on the brakes, propelling Javier forward. The seatbelt slapped him back, scraping across his throat. The car jerked back, backwards right into a
thump-gump
. Rolling forward, lurch, rolling backward,
th—thump
, up, up, back …
thump-crunch!

Javier didn't look out to see what she had hit, twice now. He just stared down at his fingers, squeezing tight around his knees. He seemed to be sweating again, despite the full blast of the backseat air vents. The car rolled forward again, then lurched into reverse, but this
third time, Feliz managed to avoid whatever she had hit before. Javier started to breathe normally again.

As the big vehicle finally backed out of the space between an older truck with a bumpy fender and a minivan with a scratched door, Javier could only hope the worst was over. Shifting forward, Feliz sped the car through the parking lot toward the exit gate. The car jerked to a sudden stop as she hit the brakes. The seatbelt cut across his throat a second time. The rise and fall on the asphalt speed bumps rolled and jerked,
ja-bump, ja-bump, zoom, stomp, ja-bump, ja-bump
… to the last
zoom, jerk, jerk, ja-bump, ja-bump
just before she stomped on the gas at the front gate and drove into the street with a loud car horn blaring behind them at her too-wide left turn.

Javier gripped the side door, feeling a little comfort in the fact that the vehicle he rode in was heavier than the cars around them. In case of an accident, he could—would—should be protected, right?

She drove up the freeway entrance and sped up even faster as she passed freight trucks, small cars, long cars, and even a park ranger's car without slowing down. Javier looked around the front seat and realized Pat had fallen asleep.
How did he do that?

Feliz wove between cars, never once using a blinker as she changed lanes to pass up vehicle after vehicle. She drove right past the Woodlawn Street exit like she was heading for the mall instead.

“Feliz!” He didn't mean to yell, but the music was loud enough that even his tone-deaf uncles could have sung along.

“What?” she shrieked. “What's wrong?”

“Didn't you miss the exit?” He hated to yell, but it was hopeless to speak naturally in the speeding, music-throbbing car.

Feliz screamed curses that Javier had never heard a girl use. She swerved the black car toward the right lane, three sets of horns honking around them.

Javier's shoulder hit the door with enough force to scare him. Even Pat woke up and yelled, “What the heck are you doing, Feliz?”

She pulled off at the next exit and raced the car toward the signal light on the access road like she was trying to beat a world record. Javier looked toward the front window and saw the signal turning yellow. Was she going to try to beat the light? No one needed to get home that bad, right?

In the split second the light turned red, Feliz pressed on the gas and raced forward. The tires squealed as she battled the steering wheel to make the turn under the bridge. Javier stared at the two lanes of cars speeding in the other direction toward them. He repeated the profanity he had heard from Feliz. Who'd hear him over the noise anyway?

Somehow she made the turn. She drove the car out of the way of the oncoming traffic and sped down the road like nothing dangerous had just happened.

Javier's heart was shoved up inside his head, thumping faster than the speed of sound. He couldn't breathe, couldn't find his saliva or his eardrums. His back pressed into the leather seat that should have comforted and relaxed him, but in this moment, he would have given
anything
to feel the stiff bench seat of the school bus instead.

As they neared the Woodlawn Lake neighborhoods, Feliz finally slowed down. Someone in the front seat had turned down the music, and Feliz asked in a nice voice, “What house am I looking for?”

Javier wasn't prepared for the Driving Demon to rematerialize as Friendly Feliz, so it took him a moment to speak in a normal voice. “Down the road—that stone house on the corner.”

“Oh, I've seen this house,” Feliz said as she slowed the car in front of the white gate. “I always thought the flowers were pretty.”

“Thanks,” Javier said. If he hadn't been so relieved to be still alive and breathing, he might have told her it was built by his great-grandfather and that his father and brothers had renovated it just before Javier was born. He might have told her she should stop by some time and see how “pretty” his mother decorated inside. But all he said to both Feliz and Pat was, “Thanks for the ride.”

Javier dragged his backpack as he stepped out of the car. He closed the door with a loud
thud
, and quickly jumped up on the sidewalk in case the Driving Demon tried to run over his feet.

The tires spun out in the loose dirt by the curb before the black car sped off.

No “goodbye,” or “see you later”? not even a moment to hear, “You're welcome”? Hmm
, Javier thought.

Even though he stood in front of his own home, Javier still felt like a hitchhiker abandoned by random strangers on the highway. He tossed his backpack strap over one shoulder and sighed.

H
is mother was home early from her job as a bank loan officer. When she was all dressed up for work with her hair colored a light brown, she didn't look at all like a woman of fifty-four. She had stayed thin, always seemed to have a lot of energy, and knew how to carry on a conversation with anyone: just ask questions.

When Javier came into the kitchen looking for a cold drink, she stood at the kitchen counter slicing up avocados. After a quick hello, she started questioning him like he was under state investigation. “Did you get a top locker? Did you buy a lunch card? How do you like the new teachers? Any changes in the dress code I should know about? Are there any fundraisers coming up? Can I see your schedule?”

Javier caught a break from the interrogation when his father yelled through the back door, “The fajitas are ready. Javier!”

He immediately grabbed two potholders off the tile kitchen counter and walked out to the patio. When he came back inside, he saw his mom reading his class schedule. “What's Media Broadcasting class?” she asked.

He didn't answer until the cast iron
comal
of sizzling chicken fajitas, bell peppers, and onions that his father had cooked on the patio grill was set down on the stove. “It's a new elective, Mom. Now there's equipment at the school to do the morning announcements on TV.”

“That should be fun,” she said. She put down the schedule on the table and wandered toward the refrigerator. “Will you have to dress differently?”

“What do you mean?” Javier tossed the pot holders by the sink. “Why would I dress differently?”

“The people on TV wear suits and ties, don't they?” She pulled a package of flour tortillas from inside the
refrigerator. “If you're going to study broadcasting, won't you need to dress like a news anchor?”

“I hope not.” Javier twisted his lips into a crooked line. It was bad enough for the guys to watch him on TV. Who wanted the added spotlight of wearing different clothes from everyone else too? He liked that school uniforms let a guy disappear into the crowd. He didn't want to stand out like a big zit on someone's nose.

His father came inside and said, “Nivia, your daughter called me today—you know, Selena the screamer.”

She gestured at her husband with the package. “You always say ‘your daughter' when Selena acts up. Doesn't she get that screaming thing from your side of the family?”

“Ávilas are not screamers.” His dad washed his hands in the sink. “Isn't that right, Javier?”

Javier shrugged. “Yeah well, Vivian and Selena are exceptions to the rule.” Maybe his big sisters were hot-tempered, but he had always admired their popularity and the way they never backed down from an argument.