The F Factor (11 page)

They all laughed; everyone swore the old nun's voice could shatter glass.

Andy tapped a pencil on the paper near a sketch of the main building. “This one looks good, like the real thing.”

“You put all the important buildings into this city outline,” Ignacio commented, pointing to a sketch on the opposite page.

Javier nodded and then got an idea. “Last summer, I saw a city mural at the mall. I remember pointing it out to my little nephew and told him, ‘See that space there? That's where my school is. It's downtown too.' Why don't you paint St. Peter's where it belongs in the downtown landscape?”

Pat nodded. “I like that idea a lot, Javier.” His brown eyes brightened with a grin.

“And the smart guy does it again! Isn't it great to have smart friends, Pat?” Andy said. He pointed his pencil at Pat and then remarked, “Our friend Javier here is the best of the best. Your drop-dead gorgeous sister would be very safe with our man Javier.”

Ignacio let out a squawk then covered his mouth. Javier quickly turned to Pat, ready to apologize for Andy's comments. However, Pat had grabbed the pencil and pulled it from Andy's fingers. “He's definitely better for my sister than you are, Cardona. All the drumming you do with pencils and forks would drive her nuts!” He dropped the pencil and nudged Javier with his elbow. “I'm going to be a real
compadre
. I'll let
you
ask Feliz to help us with the background, okay?”

Javier felt as if he just drank lava. The others grinned and chuckled at the obvious discomfort they had caused. He almost surrendered to the embarrassment, but Pat's response inspired Javier to step up and take a chance. Hadn't he already conquered the first day of speaking on live television? Why couldn't he talk to a girl like Feliz Berlanga too?

Taking in a breath to strengthen his confidence, Javier finally said, “Fine, Pat. I'll talk to Feliz. I'll turn on the charm and convince her to help us.”

Ignacio reached out and rapped his knuckles on Pat's notebook. “Okay, now here's the
really
important part. Does Feliz have some hot-looking friends for the rest of us? There's a Homecoming dance in October and none of us have dates.”

W
ednesday's after-school broadcast practice went smoother. Everyone seemed much more relaxed now that the “first” program was over. Brother Calvin showed up again with his white note cards and demands, and as Javier and Pat walked toward the back parking lot to find Feliz's car, they discussed ways to keep the school counselor out of their way.

“Instead of Brother Calavera's delivery service, one of us could go pick up announcements in the front office,” Javier said. He shifted his heavy backpack between his shoulders, trying to take the pressure off his back.

Pat slowed his pace to walk along side Javier. “Too bad we can't use a voicemail system. If you want to make an announcement, call this number.”

“Hey!” Javier snapped his fingers. “Why couldn't the clubs and the administration email the announcements to the classroom? Mr. Seneca said that eventually we're going to be reading off computer slides instead of cards, right? Won't it save time if the text's already typed?”

Pat smiled like he felt happy. “Good idea! You know, I'm really starting to like this!”

“Like what?”

“Hanging out with a smart guy! I'm used to the dummies like me in class.”

“Pat, you're not a dummy—not the way you think quickly on your feet! You saved everyone from getting embarrassed today. Then you stepped up and volunteered to draw a background so we don't look like—what did you call us? Sock puppets? That's funny!” He slugged Pat's shoulder. “You are way too clever to call yourself a dummy.”

Pat shrugged and then pointed. “There's the car. Let's hope Feliz is in a good mood. She can be moody like my dad and say NO to everything.”

Javier turned his thoughts to Pat's sister. If the awful August heat wasn't already making him sweat like a marathon runner, facing a pretty girl like Feliz Berlanga would have him soaked to the bone. If only he could talk to her after he had showered or with a cool autumn breeze in the background. Then he wouldn't feel like a grungy, awkward idiot. Where was that “Mr. Cool” guy? Taking a vacation?

As usual, Feliz had the car engine running. Heavy metal music battered the tinted car windows. Pat led the way to the passenger side and opened up the front door to a woman screeching over the music that men were liars and cowards.

Pat yelled, “Hey! Need to talk!” He reached into the car and the music volume suddenly dropped to background noise. “We need to give Javier a ride home again, but there's something he wants to talk to you about, so he's going to sit up front, okay?”

Javier's mouth dropped open, never expecting to sit close to a girl he liked. At the same time, he was worried about riding in the front seat and witnessing firsthand
the swerving, speeding, and jerking that came along with Feliz's driving. If it hadn't been for the shove that Pat gave him with his backpack, Javier might have stood like a melting statue in the parking lot. Instead, he slid his own backpack onto the thick carpet and climbed into the front seat.

He turned to Feliz and managed to say, “Hi,” and felt even more uncomfortable when she gave him a little smile. She wore black sunglasses, so he couldn't tell much.

“Hi yourself! It's Javier, right?”

He nodded as the back door closed and Pat called out, “He's the guy who lives near Welita.”

“I remember.” Feliz moved some of her dark hair behind her ear. “It's that old house with the white gate. Welita's house is way old too.”

Javier raised an eyebrow. “Actually my great-grandfather built our house in the 1940s. Many homes in that area have historical significance.”

Feliz expressed a belittling laugh. “Not Welita's house. It's a tired, run-down shack that should have been torn down years ago. The only thing
historical
is that footed bathtub of hers.” She adjusted her sunglasses and then shifted the car into reverse.

Javier immediately reached for his seatbelt and checked twice that it was secure. He grabbed the car door handle firmly with his right hand.

Feliz managed to back out of the parking space without hitting anything, although the seatbelt strangled Javier three times as she sped up, braked hard, and ker-thumped, ker-jumped over the speed bumps in the parking lot. She continued to act oblivious to the car horns as she made her too-wide turn into the busy street around
the school. Once she straightened out the car, she had no choice but to slow down and ease along with the rush-hour traffic.

Now that talking wouldn't be a distraction or put their lives in danger, Javier wondered how to start up a conversation. With his sisters, he started with a compliment, but what could he say to a girl in a school uniform? And the throbbing music in the car wasn't something he wanted to mention either, so he decided to make her brother look good instead. “You should have heard Pat this morning. He sounded like a pro on our first broadcast!”

“Broadcast? What are you talking about?” She sighed loudly as the signal light turned red and her vehicle was still eight cars away from the intersection.

Having been raised in a family who took an interest in everything Javier did, he was puzzled by Feliz's ignorance. “It's our new elective: Broadcast Media. Didn't Pat tell you we're broadcasting morning announcements on school TV?”

She shrugged. “Pat doesn't say much. He's asleep all the time.”

Javier looked in the backseat. Sure enough, Pat's head leaned against the headrest and his eyes were closed. Javier shook his head. If he was going to get Feliz's help, it looked like he was flying solo.

“Pat and I were the first pair of students to read on TV,” Javier said, now giving the pretty girl in the driver's seat his full attention. “Pat and I didn't know each other well, but we ended up making a decent team. Pat reads well and he stayed calm, even when one of the guys goofed on visuals.”

“That's so weird. He never wanted to be on TV before.”

“What do you mean?”

Feliz took off her sunglasses and looked at Javier. “Don't you know who our father is? Haven't you ever heard of Berlanga Motors? My dad does TV commercials all the time. I've done a few, too, but Pat and my mom never wanted to do them.”

Now that he could see her sparkling brown eyes, Javier tried to maintain steady eye contact. He pretended they were already friends and asking her a favor would be easy. “Now that Pat is taking this elective, maybe he'll do a commercial with your dad,” Javier told her. “But right now, we need to worry about how we come across on school TV. Pat had an idea to create a backdrop to cover up the whiteboards behind us during the broadcast. He told me you're a good artist, and we hoped you could help us sketch an outline of the city.”

Before she could answer, the light changed. Feliz put on her sunglasses and drove up so close to the car in front of her that Javier could read the labels on the boxes in the backseat. Feliz kept up the tailgating and slipped through a yellow-to-red light, only to be stopped again by another light several cars away. She sighed again and reached for the button on the dashboard, probably to turn up the music.

“Feliz, if you draw the outline, we can paint in the rest of the picture.” Javier quickly spoke up before tortured voices started screaming inside the car. “Pat sketched an idea that should be easy to follow. You can help us, right?”

Her fingernails tapped an impatient
click-click-click
on the steering wheel. “I have a lot of homework to do tonight.”

“No problem. We don't need the backdrop until Monday. We can work on it over the weekend. I'll just walk over to your grandmother's house.”

He could see her frown even around the sunglasses. “No, you can't do it at Welita's. There's no room. Besides, Pat's airbrushes are at home.”

“No problem. I can get a ride over to your house.” Javier smiled at his quick responses. Every word was coming out so easy now.

A voice called out from the backseat. “Javier can just stay over at our house after the football game Friday night. We're going to give him a ride anyway.”

Javier whipped around and stared into the backseat. Even with his eyes closed, Pat's smirk revealed his self-satisfaction. Had Pat
really
been asleep, or was he only pretending so Javier had to do all the talking? But it was hard to stay irritated with the guy who just created a good solution to any final obstacles.

Javier looked back at Feliz and smiled. “I guess we could start Saturday morning at your house.”

He didn't anticipate Feliz's quick mood change. She sat up straight and looked into the rearview mirror, no doubt at her brother. “You just assume I'll help you with your dumb painting and that I
want
to be your chauffeur, Pat. What's in it for me?”

The voice from the backseat spoke smoothly, as if he was on camera. “You need a friend like Javier. He can help you pass chemistry. He's the smartest guy in the school.”

“Really!” Feliz's shoulders slowly relaxed against the leather car seat as she turned to Javier. A wide smile appeared beneath the sunglasses. He was grateful they
covered her eyes. Would they filter out the flaming redness of his face too?

“Okay, fine! It's a deal,” she said before a car horn honked twice behind them. Traffic began moving, and Feliz turned up the music too loud to talk anymore.

Harsh base guitars and shrieking voices shook the car. The singer screamed about love
and
hate, pleasure
and
pain. Some girl had turned him into a real mess!

But Javier could see why that poor guy wailed about different reactions to one woman. Spending more time with a beauty like Feliz could be amazing, but helping her with chemistry could be a disaster. What if Feliz's science skills were as bad as her driving? What if she mixed chemicals like she ignored traffic laws?

He leaned back into the passenger seat, reset the seat-belt across his body, and tried to remember what he already knew about unstable formulas.

F
riday night, Javier's dad looked relaxed and comfortable on the living room sofa. He wore a faded Spurs T-shirt, a pair of gray shorts, and some old sandals on his feet. He took off his reading glasses and said to his son, “Are you moving into a college dorm already?”

Javier walked past his father. He knew his collared shirt looked too preppy for a game, but he wanted to look older. He dropped his sleeping bag and his backpack by the front door before he said, “After the game, I'm going to stay over at Pat Berlanga's house. We're working on a school project tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, that's right. But if you're going to watch football, why do you smell so pretty?” He grinned at his son.