The F Factor (23 page)

“Jack, that's an Ignacio grade, not a Javier Ávila grade.” Andy stood next to him.

Ignacio had come around the front of the lab table. “What happened?”

“I don't know,” he said and scanned the multiple-choice questions. He had missed the two he thought he might, but there were five wrong answers he didn't plan for. When he flipped to the second page, he groaned at the sight of all the red marks. He guessed that the equation for the initial reaction was balanced incorrectly. That meant all the other answers that followed it were wrong too.

“It was like you said, Andy—all or nothing on page two,” Javier told him as he stood up. He folded the test in half and stuck it inside his chemistry book.

“I can't believe how I lucked out,” Andy said before he sighed with relief. “Mrs. Alejandro was mad at your test grade, not mine. As for you, Jack, so sad, too bad.”

Ignacio clapped Javier hard on the shoulder. “Man, Javier, this is a first: you
flunking
a test. Who knew the smartest guy in the whole school could get tripped up by chemistry? And you did all that science camp stuff too. Man, Javier, it sucks!”

“Yeah,” Javier replied, frowning at his friends for stating the obvious.

“You're lucky that your dad isn't like my dad. When my father has to sign a test that I flunked, I catch all kinds of hell. Your dad just makes jokes,” Ignacio replied.

“He won't joke about this,” Javier said. “That F doesn't stand for funny, you guys. It stands for failure.”

F
rustrated by his own mistakes, Javier stomped his way down the noisy hallways and headed for his locker. Andy and Ignacio had gone straight to the band hall. He was glad; their comments had just made him mad. Neither gave him any sympathy, or even tried to understand how he felt, even after all those years he helped them with homework or said something positive when they got low grades. But instead of doing the same for Javier, they made stupid comments.

He reached his locker and started working the combination lock. What would his parents say when he showed them that chemistry test? They wouldn't yell like Andy's mom or swear like Ignacio's father, but he knew how disappointment cooled his mother's gaze. His father grew quiet when people let him down. For years, Javier gave up fun so he could make them proud. What did it get him? Half a scholarship and two miserable summers in a program he only attended to look smart. And what about the constant backache from carrying home all his books every night?

Javier stood there, still brooding at his open locker, when Pat walked up.

“Hey! Mr. Seneca sent me a note during seventh period,” Pat said. “He wants me to pick up the camera for tonight's game. I guess Kenny doesn't want to film it.”

Javier heard the excitement in his friend's voice. He nodded but still frowned at the pile of textbooks that had his attention. “That's good, Pat. You know what to do.”

“Javier, what's wrong?”

Before Javier could answer, someone slapped him on the back. When he turned, he saw one of the juniors from chemistry class with a big grin on his unshaven face.

“Hey, Ávila, I gotta thank you. You flunking that big chemistry test really made me laugh.” Before the junior walked off, he added, “Don't forget! Have your mommy sign the test.”

It felt like he had inhaled burning chemicals during lab. Javier turned around and yanked his canvas backpack from the locker. He couldn't even look at Pat.

“You flunked your chemistry test?” Pat stepped closer. “Really, Javier, how bad was it?”

“What does it matter?” he spit out.

“Well, if it's above a fifty, there's good chance that a few nineties will bring it up to a C average. A couple of hundreds can let you pull out a B by the end of the semester.” Pat spoke in that earnest tone he used when he made announcements. “If it's below fifty, you need to ask for extra-credit work.”

Javier Ávila asking for extra credit?
He shoved his chemistry book and his lab folder into his backpack. He put his math book and paperback copy of
Walden
on top of that. “I got a lot of homework this weekend, Pat. Don't expect me at the game tonight.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I'm busy. Besides, I don't need everybody at the game talking about my chemistry grade either! Word travels fast—probably at the speed of light if your face has been plastered on school TV.”

“Jack, you're talking crazy. It's just one F.”

“Hey! Why don't we put me on the announcements? Then my chemistry grade could make everyone laugh!” Angry sarcasm burst out like a flash fire. “We could set it to music and show me on my knees begging Mrs. Alejandro for extra-credit work. We can put Brother Calvin dancing in the background. Won't that be hilarious?”

“Stop it, Javier!” Pat banged hard on the locker door. “Just stop it!”

Javier stepped back. His breathing slowed as that insane mood started to leave him. He stared at his friend, wishing he could start the whole conversation again. What was Pat going to think about his TV partner turning into a crazy moron? “Sorry.”

Pat shook his head but didn't frown. “Javier, you're now sitting in the same boat with normal people who screw up. Didn't you say you don't want to be a robot anymore? That means you get to flunk tests like the rest of us guys, okay?”

“You know, Pat, all my life, I wanted to be like the rest of the guys,” Javier said, surprised he actually said it out loud, “but I can't run or pitch a ball without looking like an idiot. I play no instruments and can't draw. School is the only thing I do well, so now what?”

“Javier, you need to do what Mr. Seneca said and look at the bigger picture.”

Look at a bigger picture?
Right now Javier felt like a blind man.

“Come on, Jack. Forget about chemistry,” Pat told him. His enthusiastic tone had returned. “We'll go to the game tonight, and we'll take turns on the camera and get some great footage. And who knows? Our next video could make us famous!”

That's when another junior from chemistry class walked past them and called out, “Tough luck, Javier. Looks like you'll need to suck up to Mrs. Alejandro big time. You better pucker up!” Three loud kissing sounds followed.

“Man, juniors are idiots,” Pat said. “Remind me not to turn stupid next year.”

Javier had to laugh. “Yeah, me too.” He looked inside his locker again. With Pat watching, Javier couldn't add unnecessary books and not feel pathetic. He had already gathered what he needed for homework, so he closed the door. He lifted his backpack by the handle and carried it easily in one hand.

“D
o you need a ride today?” Javier asked as they walked out of the building.

“Yeah. I'll go to my grandma's tonight and go home tomorrow morning. If I'm not there every once in a while, my mom takes it personal,” Pat replied. “If my dad's not around, it's so much better for me.”

“Do you realize how strange that sounds?”

Pat gave a hollow laugh. “You got a dad who cares about you, Javier. My dad is all about the show. He loves to present his good-looking daughter to everybody, but his son? I'm like one of the used cars he keeps in the back lot of the dealership.”

“Have you even told him about your elective? When I asked Feliz to help us with the backdrop, I could tell she knew nothing about what you do in school.” Javier shook his head. “Do you know that on the first day of school, my mom grilled me like the FBI, and later I heard her on the phone with my brothers and sisters telling them all about my elective? My dad's still asking me to steal a copy of the show and bring it home.”

By then, Pat and Javier had walked up the steps of Mr. Seneca's building. Pat reached for the door and said, “Why don't you just ask Mr. Seneca to let you borrow a tape so you can show it to your dad?”

“I will if you will,” Javier said, hoping to make things better for Pat at home.
How could Mr. Berlanga not be swayed by his son's sense of humor and his on-camera persona?
“I bet if your dad saw a tape, he'd be just as impressed as everybody in this school has been.” He let Pat open the door, and they walked inside.

No one expected to see Ms. Maloney leaning against Mr. Seneca's desk. He stood very close in front of her, with only the awkward position of the crutches providing space between them. Under the spell of whatever they were saying, it took a moment for them both to turn toward the door.

Ms. Maloney's blue eyes widened, and Mr. Seneca's wide brow wrinkled. She gasped and straightened up, trying to sidestep her way around him. He shuffled back in a crooked fashion and wobbled so uncontrollably that Ms. Maloney grabbed onto his arms. One of the crutches slipped out and crashed to the floor. His upper body swayed like a large balloon losing its air.

“Oh, my God!” she cried out as he started to fall backwards. “Help him!”

Javier tossed the backpack out of his hands and ran. Pat had moved even quicker to come up from behind their teacher and press his wide shoulders against Mr. Seneca's back to keep him upright.

Javier went for the crutch, whipping it up and letting Mr. Seneca grab it. Javier covered his teacher's shaking hand with both of his and pulled the man toward him. He strained against the weight of the bigger man. Even with Pat pushing from behind, Javier pressed his own legs to the floor and held his back and shoulders firm to keep Mr. Seneca and his own clumsy self upright.

“I got it, I got it,” Mr. Seneca whispered through panting breaths. “I'm up. I'm not going to fall. Frances, I'm okay.” He stood straight on his feet, but he leaned unevenly toward the side of his body where his fist tightened around the metal crutch.

“Are you sure, Mr. Seneca?” Pat stood behind him, his hands spread across his teacher's shoulders. “I got your back, Sir. Lean against me if you need to.”

“Get your bearings, Win. Take your time.” Ms. Maloney's voice reminded Javier of the way his mom would soothe him after she applied a Band-aid or an ice bag.

Ms. Maloney guided Mr. Seneca's arm through the cuff like it should be, and that's when Javier realized this wasn't the first time she had helped him with his crutches. He almost smiled, only he saw the embarrassment quickly narrow into anger in Mr. Seneca's dark eyes. Javier let him go and quickly stepped away now that his teacher had the crutches to hold himself steady.

“I told you we weren't going to work after school today.” His gruff voice sounded like a monster's from an old movie. He pressed his hands into the handle of his
crutches to shift himself in Javier's direction. “What are you two boys doing in here?”

Pat stepped around Mr. Seneca and said, “Sir, you sent me a note during seventh period, remember? I'm supposed to pick up the camera to film tonight's game. That's why Javier and I are here. The note said to come after school.”

Mr. Seneca's jaw slowly unclenched before he nodded silently.

“I'm sorry if we startled you.” Javier knew they had interrupted a personal moment they probably shouldn't have seen. “I guess we should have knocked first. We're very sorry.”

“No harm done,” Ms. Maloney said, tugging at her yellow sweater and smoothing it over her striped skirt. She kept her eyes down. “You two were lucky to be here when Win … uh, I mean Mr. Seneca almost … well, I guess I should leave … uh, so you get the camera.”

Javier squeezed his fingers behind his back. “No, Ms. Maloney, don't leave. Just let Pat and me grab the camera and tripod, and then we're out of here.”

Pat extended his hand. “Can I borrow the keys, Sir?”

“And can we borrow one of the replay tapes?” Javier asked, taking advantage of Pat's word choice. “Our parents want to see what we're doing in the class. May we take a tape home over the weekend?”

“Take a tape home?” Mr. Seneca blinked like he wasn't sure he heard correctly.

“Why not take home a tape of the broadcast with the music video? That was impressive too,” Ms. Maloney said in a voice that sounded more like her old self. She had moved closer to talk to her students. “If Mr. Seneca trusts
you with school property, I'm sure he can trust you with the class tapes he's made.”

At this point, Mr. Seneca grabbed the keys from his belt. His chin lowered before he said to Pat, “I expect you both can be trusted with anything inside this classroom. Do you know what the word ‘discretion' means, Mr. Berlanga?”

“Yes, Sir.” Pat took the keys from Mr. Seneca's hands. “It means Javier and I came for the camera. I haven't seen Ms. Maloney since fifth period. And except for Javier flunking his chemistry test, nothing out of the ordinary has happened today.”

“Shut up!” Javier jerked Pat's arm. “Didn't the man just ask you if you knew the definition of discretion? What's wrong with you?” He pulled him toward the back cabinets before Pat could tell his teachers anymore embarrassing news.