The F Factor (27 page)

“Sure, no problem,” Eric replied. He smiled. “How many do you need?”

“I want one!” said their mom, followed by a chorus around the table by every family member wanting to watch Javier on Guardian TV again. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or flattered, but what really mattered was that Pat had a copy, and that
his
family made time to watch it.

“F
iremen arrived on the scene of a house fire on Mistletoe Drive, not far from Woodlawn Lake. It was after ten p.m. when the Fire Department got the call to fight the two-alarm blaze.” The young anchorman on the ten o'clock news described the events in a calm professional tone, but his words made Javier grip the remote control in his hand. He sat by his mom on the den sofa. His dad had just taken his seat in a matching overstuffed chair.

Visuals of Pat's grandmother's house crisscrossed with fire appeared on the television screen. Firemen sprayed the structure from two different directions, but the leaping flames, thick smoke, and messy drizzle looked just as dangerous on television as Javier remembered it.

The anchorman's voice continued to speak over the images: “The heavy drizzle did little to keep the fire from spreading through the old one-story house. The owner was identified as Adelita Mendiola, mother-in-law of prominent business owner, Benjamin Berlanga.”

There was a quick edit to an on-camera interview with Pat's father. He was dressed in a tie and dress shirt. He stood under a dark umbrella. His thin face looked washed out in the harsh spotlight of the television camera. “We've been trying for years to move her home with us. She lived all alone. I've been so worried about her, and now this fire!” he said. “She's lucky to be alive.” He nodded toward the camera. “I'm so grateful to our outstanding Fire Department, to those firemen who rescued her.”

“What?!!” Javier yelled at the television. He sat up straight, planting his bare feet on the carpet. He stared at the television in disbelief. “There were no firemen! Pat and I rescued her … and she didn't live
alone
! What about Pat?!!”

The young anchorman was back on the screen to finish his report. “Fire Department officials are calling this home a total loss. Cause of the fire is still under investigation. In other news … ”

“I can't believe that guy!” Javier clamped down on the remote control to mute the sound. “He totally ignored his own son! Pat's lying in the hospital, and he gives the firemen all the credit for the rescue? What a bastard! No wonder Pat hates living with him!” He hurled back like he might throw the remote.

His mom yanked the remote out of his hand. “Alright, Javier, calm down. I'll let the profanity go this time because you're still upset about last night, but I'm not
going to let you break something.” She placed the remote on the other side of her.

His hands tightened into fists. He did feel like breaking something or hitting someone. “I can't believe that man. What Pat did last night was amazing! First, he ran inside to save his grandmother. Then he carried me away from the burning house. Why didn't his father tell the TV news about his son? How could he ignore Pat that way?”

“How would his father know what Pat did, Javito?” his mom replied, gently stroking Javier's arm. “If you and Pat were already at the hospital and he didn't show up at the fire until later, how would he know?”

“Then he
needs
to know,” Javier answered. He looked at his mom. “I want to talk to Mr. Berlanga, and he needs to watch that tape of Guardian TV too. The man's clueless, Mom. He knows
nothing
about his son.”

“Even if he's wrong, Javier, I expect you to respect Mr. Berlanga,” his father said. His voice was serious, and there was a disapproving tone to it. “Anyway, there's no talking to him tonight. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow. It will give you some time to cool down.”

Javier breathed deeply, trying to find some patience within him, but it was like hoping to find fresh air in a smoky building. He stared down at his clenched hands and forced himself to open them up.

His mother had pressed the remote again. The news anchor's voice gave the details about graffiti sprayed on a city office building. Javier looked up. He stared at the television screen and suddenly noticed the letters printed under the anchorman's name.

Maybe I can do something tonight
, Javier thought. He stood up, told his parents goodnight, and went upstairs to his room. Even before he turned on his computer, he was
already searching his mind for the best words to type into the email.

J
avier slowly peeked through the open door of the hospital room. He saw Pat sitting in an upright position in the hospital bed and a pile of empty juice and gelatin cups on a high table beside the handrails. He wore the same clear, thin tube with two prongs that went inside his nose like Javier had worn in the emergency room. He was wearing a blue hospital gown, but most of it was covered up by a white blanket. He stared at the TV.

Next to the window sat Mrs. Berlanga, reading a novel. She was dressed in dark pants and a black blouse. Feliz sat beside her, punching buttons on her phone. She wore a red dress and spiked heels—an outfit to wear to a party not to sit in a hospital.

“Aren't you going in?” his mom whispered. She had driven him to the hospital because she insisted he needed more recovery time before he could drive alone.

Javier nodded and then walked into the hospital room, his laptop under his arm. He smiled to see his friend awake and alert. “Hi, Pat. How's it going?”

Pat turned and gave Javier a grin. “Hey, Javier! You survived!” His voice still sounded hoarse and raspy from the smoke. “Last thing I remember, you got wiped out when I fell on you. I'm glad I didn't knock the stuffing out of you for good.”

Javier laughed. “Well, I'm glad we didn't get barbecued that night.”

“Oh, man, don't mention barbecue,” Pat said and groaned. “Hospital food really sucks! I'd give my left arm to have a brisket sandwich right now.”

“It's always a good sign when a boy gets his appetite back. Hello, Pat,” Javier's mom said as she walked in behind her son. When Mrs. Berlanga rose, she hugged the woman like an old friend. “Hello, Erica. Get any sleep last night? How's your mom?”

“She's worn out. I don't know if I should be here with Pat or take care of her.” Mrs. Berlanga's dark face wore a frown that made Javier feel sad.

Feliz's head had popped up from concentrating on her phone. She sighed and said, “Well, I'm out of here.” She stood up and pulled her purse strap over her shoulder. “Sitting around watching Pat breathe is stupid. He's alive. I'm going home.”

Mrs. Berlanga stared at her daughter. Her mouth had dropped open.

“Come on, Erica. You need a break.” Javier's mother still had an arm around the woman's shoulders. “Let's go get a cup of coffee.” She looked at her son. “Javier, you'll call my cell phone if you need us, right? We'll be back in a little while.” And she led Mrs. Berlanga out of the room.

Feliz walked over and stood at the foot of the bed. She looked beautiful, but that was it. When she smiled, Javier felt suspicious right away. “Javier, I'm glad you're here,” she told him. “I need more help with chemistry. I'll call you tonight, okay?”

“I can't help you, Feliz. Sorry. You need to find someone else.” He didn't break eye contact with her as he said, “I'm having my own problems with chemistry. I even flunked my last test.” He was relieved he could say that so easily now.

“Javier is a busy guy,” Pat added. “Find your own friends to help you with homework. If he can spend extra time studying for a hard class, so can you.”

An icy glare was her only response before she stomped out of the room, her heels clacking down the hall.

“Good, she's gone. What a pain!” Pat turned to Javier and said, “Okay, Jack, so why are you carrying your laptop? Don't tell me we're going to rewrite school announcements while I'm lying in the hospital with an oxygen tube up my nose.”

“Not exactly.” Javier grinned at his friend, relieved Pat's sense of humor was still intact. “I brought something to show you.” First he put the computer on the bed and quickly cleared off the trash on the table so he could set up his laptop there. He turned it on and said, “My brother made you a copy of the school tape. I thought we could watch it together right now and have a few laughs.”

Javier stood beside the bed to watch their first broadcast together. They both laughed at Pat's quick thinking when the flag image didn't change and Javier had gone into the second announcement not knowing what happened. Pat had saved them from looking like idiots, and he had been helping Javier out ever since.

They had just finished watching the first week of broadcasts when a husky Latino man wearing a dark suit came into the room. Javier recognized him immediately as the anchorman from Channel 12 news. Right behind him walked in a tall man who carried a heavy camera over one shoulder.

When Javier had sent the message to the station, he didn't expect the anchorman to really care or pay attention. It just made Javier feel better to tell someone what really happened that night at the fire. Now he felt a strange combination of anxiety and anticipation that simmered up and down his arms and legs.

“Which of you is Javier Ávila?” asked the anchorman. He smiled at them.

“Good morning, Guardians! This is Javier Ávila, and these are the morning announcements,” came the voice from the laptop.

Javier quickly punched the
PAUSE
button. “Uh, I'm Javier. Hi!”

“I'm Edward Flores,” the anchorman said, first shaking Javier's hand, then Pat's. “I guess you are the hero, Pat Berlanga.”

“I'm not the hero, Mr. Flores.” Pat shook his head in disagreement. “Javier is the one who got us out. He didn't let me give up.”

“But Pat carried me away from the burning house,” Javier quickly added.

“Obviously, you two are quite a
team
of heroes,” the cameraman said.

“Oh, sorry! Excuse me! This is my friend Josh,” said Mr. Flores, gesturing toward the cameraman. “I wondered if you both could tell us more about what happened on Friday night at the fire. Um … are your parents here anywhere? I really can't put you on camera without their permission.”

“Our moms just went for coffee.” Javier reached into his pocket for his phone. “I can call them to come back here.”

“Would you mind? I want to use this story tonight on the five-thirty news.”

Javier walked out of the room to make the call. “Mom, it's me. No, nothing's wrong, but there is a reporter who wants to interview Pat and me, but he needs you and Mrs. Berlanga to give permission. Okay, we'll wait for you. Bye.”

Javier walked back into the room. He felt a sudden burning under his feet that spiked up his ankles. When
he saw the anchorman and the cameraman on each side of the bed watching the program on the laptop. Pat watched with them, grinning proudly. When he caught Javier's surprised stare, Pat gave him a pair of thumbs-up.

“Hey you two aren't half bad,” the cameraman said as Javier came up to stand beside him. “How long have you been at this?”

“About six weeks,” Javier answered. “It's a new elective. Pat and I were the first team to do the announcements on school TV.” He couldn't see too well from the distance and angle where he stood, but in his mind, he could imagine the facial expressions that matched the voices he heard. It was one of their better broadcasts.

They were all still watching the laptop together when their mothers walked back into the hospital room.

As the cameraman set up to film, Javier's mom took over the laptop. She sat down in one of the two chairs by the window. Mrs. Berlanga sat beside her, and they watched one of the broadcasts. It was the first time Javier had ever seen Pat's mom smile.

A few minutes later, Javier stood by the hospital bed and answered the questions put to him by the anchor-man. He was surprised at how calm he felt talking to the camera, telling the truth about what happened the night of the fire. When he turned to Pat and let him take his turn to speak to the reporter, it felt natural to work as a team to tell a story just like they had learned to do together on Guardian TV.

O
nce the anchorman's interview, film clips of the fire as well as new images of the burned-down house appeared as the third story on the evening newscast, the
Ávila phone started ringing with calls from Javier's brothers, uncles, and aunts. Mr. Quintanilla also called about what Javier and Pat had done the night of the fire. It felt weird to talk to the Dean of Students at home, but Javier appreciated what he said.

“I'll talk to your teachers if you need more time to recover. Make-up work won't be a problem,” Mr. Quintanilla told Javier.

“Thank you, but I don't plan to miss any school,” Javier replied. He paused and then added, “But would you speak to Pat's teachers? He'll probably be absent this week.”

“I just talked to Pat at the hospital,” Mr. Q said. “We'll make arrangements for him to keep up with his classes, don't worry. Both of you have made us very proud.”

About seven-thirty, the doorbell rang, and Javier was surprised by his best friends and their mothers. He had to endure kisses from Ignacio's mom and squeezing hugs from Andy's mom, but luckily, his mom took over, and all the ladies went off to the kitchen. Javier took the guys upstairs to his room.

“I can't believe all this drama happened and I had to learn all about it on TV,” Andy said, flopping on Javier's unmade bed. “Why didn't you call me?”

“I did call you. I left you messages—at least three of them,” Javier said with irritation. He sat down at his desk chair. “You never called me back!”