The F Factor (5 page)

Javier resisted the urge to move in his chair. He didn't want others to see the discomfort he felt hearing the teacher's tragic story.

Mr. Seneca drew a breath before he continued. “Want to know the most important lesson I learned? Some of the best things happen when circumstances are at their worst. Spending all those months in a rehab hospital, I learned how to repair computers and went online to get
my master's degree in history. I also learned to play basketball in a wheelchair. What new things have you learned the past three years, huh?”

He looked over the entire room. “After what I've been through, I won't take excuses from you, especially since every one of you has two moving legs and a working brain. You try something in this class, and I'll know it. I may not be able to run after you, but I can assign enough history research that will keep you in the library seven nights a week.”

Mr. Seneca stood right beside the chair. With a hint of exhaustion crossing his features, he gave a grunt and maneuvered his body and his crutches to sit down. Javier felt like somebody should jump up and help, but Mr. Seneca knew exactly how to balance himself and use his arms to sink into the chair. He leaned the crutches on the TV cart behind him.

No one said a word.

Javier just watched him, uncertain and embarrassed. He assumed Mr. Seneca would waste time telling more stories, but the man had the energy to distribute textbooks, explain the first unit of study, and give out the first three reading assignments. He also described the first research project that was due in three weeks.

Javier felt exhausted by the end of third-period but knew he couldn't complain without sounding lame—what a terrible word choice with Mr. Seneca's disability! He wondered how he could be around this teacher twice in one day and not say something totally insulting. The word,
transfer
, echoed in his head again.
How hard can it be to keep a drumbeat? I'd be with my friends. I could have some fun
.

As the bell rang to end history class, Javier turned around in his chair, ready to ask Andy if there were any beginners in the drumline.

That's when Mr. Seneca called out a command that easily rose above the noise. “Javier Ávila, Patricio Berlanga, I want to talk to you. Right now. Up here, up front.”

J
avier's friends quickly said, “Gotta go!” Ignacio and Andy slipped around the desks and hustled out of the room like a fire drill had started.

At least Javier wasn't totally alone. To help him feel a bit less nervous as they approached Mr. Seneca in the front of the room, Javier focused his gaze on Pat.

“I made an executive decision,” the teacher said. He gestured from one boy to the other. “You two will be the first newscast team on Guardian TV Wednesday morning.”

Oh, crap!
Javier thought, but to his teacher he said, “Okay.” He didn't move, as if he was already on camera and caught in a spotlight he didn't want or need.

Pat swayed back and forth on his feet. “Why can't the seniors go first?”

“I don't teach seniors, but you two I see twice a day, and neither one of you has to run to football practice after school. You two are good to go.”

“Javier is the smart guy,” Pat replied. “I'm not good at this stuff.”

Mr. Seneca frowned. “How do you
know
you're not good at this stuff? Have you even tried? Well, have you?” When Pat said nothing, he repeated louder, “Have you?”

Pat looked like he had swallowed a wasp. He just shook his head again.

Mr. Seneca sighed and settled back into his leather chair. “Gentlemen, this isn't national TV. It's a closed-circuit broadcast for school announcements. We'll meet after school today and go over the fundamentals.”

“Uh, I don't think I can stay.” Pat started to say more, but Mr. Seneca interrupted him quickly.

“Let me guess! You have a dentist appointment after school? You need to pick up your little sister at daycare? You have to catch the
only
city bus that leaves you at your house so you don't have to take the later one on a different route and walk four miles in the barrio? Or maybe you need to get to a job that begins exactly at three-thirty, and if you're late, your boss will hire his brother-in-law's
primo
in your place?”

Javier stared down at his tingling feet. Mr. Seneca's sarcastic tone made him feel guilty, and he hadn't even given an excuse.

“Never mind!” Mr. Seneca straightened up and slowly inched his body forward. “We will just start practicing tomorrow during class and finish up after school. Mr. Berlanga, with a day's notice, can you stay after school tomorrow until five o'clock?”

“Yes, Sir,” Pat answered, but his shoulders sagged like he was getting sent to detention.

“I'll be here, too, Mr. Seneca.” Javier hated how he sounded. He even imagined kiss-up sounds inside his head.

By this time, the next period of students had filed into the room, at first noisy, then abruptly silent, no doubt when they saw the wheelchair against the back wall.

“You two can leave now,” Mr. Seneca said and reached for the crutches.

Once he and Javier had gotten outside, Pat complained, “Man, I can't do this stuff. Javier, help me get out of this job.”

He didn't like the idea much either, but to argue with a teacher like Mr. Seneca seemed pointless. With a shrug, he told Pat, “I think you're stuck.”

Pat lowered his head. “Mr. Seneca has it in for me, I know it. You just watch. I'm going to look like an idiot, and everyone will make fun of me.” He picked up the pace of his steps. “Man, that's all a dumb guy needs. I got it bad enough because of my sister, and now
this
.”

“Your sister?” Javier walked faster, matching Pat's stride. “What does your sister have to do with anything?”

“Come on, Javier, you've seen her. You've heard the guys talk. I get it all the time. She's a ten, and I'm a zero. They step all over me to get to her.” Pat's voice sounded frustrated and tired. “Why don't people leave me alone?” He opened the door to the main building. That's when the tardy bell clanged loudly around them.

Both Pat and Javier cussed as they looked at each other.

Pat's eyebrows lifted above his brown eyes. “If we tell Mr. Q. it was Mr. Seneca who needed to talk to us, will that save our butts? The guy's a cripple. Maybe we can use the pity factor to help us.”

Javier took a step back. Bad luck maybe, but to blame Mr. Seneca felt wrong. He replied, “You say what you want, Pat.”

“You talk to Mr. Q., Javier. You're the smart guy, not me.”

“Stop saying that, Pat. If you just—” Javier didn't finish the sentence because there was Mr. Quintanilla coming inside the door right behind them.

The Dean of Students used his height to his advantage as he stared down at them. “Why are you two standing in the hall? Didn't you hear the tardy bell?”

“We heard it, Sir. We were just on our way to get a tardy slip,” Javier said, keeping his voice steady. He prayed his reputation as a “smart guy” could keep him off a detention list. “We lost track of time discussing the new broadcast system.”

Pat stood there, his brown face dotted with perspiration. He gave off a blank look like he had no clue they were both late for class.

Javier looked back at the school disciplinarian. He had seen enough guys get into trouble to know what to say. “I'm sorry, Mr. Quintanilla. Pat and I used very poor judgment. It won't happen again.”

Mr. Q. gave another glare before he pulled two slips of paper from his pocket and handed one to each boy. “Get to class, gentlemen.”

Javier took the slip and turned away from Pat. He walked rapidly to his next class and had no idea what classroom Pat walked into. Frankly, he didn't care.

Two classes later, he still felt edgy. By the time he joined Ignacio and Andy standing in the lunch line, he really needed to unload. He described the first-period elective and what had happened after World History class.

“Can you believe Mr. Seneca paired me up with Pat Berlanga?” He put his lunch tray on the table in front of him and sat down across from his friends.

“Too bad he didn't choose
Feliz
Berlanga instead,” Andy replied. He tapped his plastic spoon against his water bottle. “Maybe you can get a video of Feliz to show on TV. One look at her, and it wouldn't matter if you mess up or not.”

Javier sighed at Andy's stupid idea. He started eating the hot dog and chips from his tray and kept thinking about Pat. He had called himself a “zero,” and then he said nothing when Mr. Q. showed up. What kind of news team would they make if nobody had a backbone?

Ignacio wolfed down his own hot dog before he added his comments. “The best thing is that Pat is related to Feliz. Use this chance to go to his house so you can—you know—practice. Who knows what could happen?”

Nobody got it! In two days, Javier would be on TV with a guy who would prefer to nap rather than talk, and this whole TV program was brand new. Javier and Pat would be the first ones to do it. What if the whole thing was a disaster—a very public, in-front-of-the-whole-school, disaster?

He looked from Andy to Ignacio and tried to explain things another way. “Okay, so what would happen if Mr. Henley suddenly said that for Friday night's football game, he wanted to change the half-time show? That in four days he wanted the band marching an all-new routine. How would you feel?”

Ignacio wiped his hands down the sides of his sweaty face. “He wouldn't do that. It took us half the summer to get the freshmen to march without tripping.”

“That's beside the point. Ignacio, how would you
feel
?” Javier stared hard into his friend's dark eyes. “How would you feel about his decision? How would you feel about learning an important program in three days?
You're going to go out on the field in front of everybody and do something brand new.”

“He wouldn't do that to us, Javier,” Andy answered. “It doesn't happen that way in marching band.” His spoon tapped rapidly on Javier's tray. “What's your point, man?”

Javier slapped down the annoying spoon. “I have
two
days before I go on TV and make school announcements. That's my point.” He lifted his hand and pointed from Andy to Ignacio. “You guys get a whole summer to learn a new band routine.”

“Would you relax, man?” Ignacio shook his head. “You got your underwear in a knot over a few announcements. Get over it! How hard can it be to say … ” His voice deepened like a newscaster. “‘Any student who doesn't turn in his handbook form to Mr. Domínguez by Friday will start serving detention on Monday' or something like …” His voice pitch changed again. “ … ‘Will the student who stole Brother Calavera's IQ tests from the filing cabinet please collect them from the urinals in the main building'.”

Andy smiled, and so did Javier. His friends often made him laugh. They also swore he took things way too seriously. And he wondered,
Is this one of those times?

“Look, Javier.” Ignacio's grin changed into a more serious expression. “You'll be good at this. I've seen you up in front of the class. You don't sweat like me or start shaking pencils or drumming spoons like Andy does. I know you can be Mr. Cool. And as for Berlanga, don't sweat it. Do your job, and if he comes off like a lump of
masa
, it's not your fault.”

Javier nodded. Ignacio was right. It wasn't up to Javier to change Pat. “Okay. I'll just take care of my job and leave Pat to worry about Pat.”

Ignacio nudged Andy and grinned at Javier. “But if you get inside the Berlanga house, let Feliz know I'm available, okay, Jack?”

“Yeah, right! You can just stand in line behind me,” Javier replied. Then he yanked the spoon out of Andy's hand before he could start tapping it again.

A
fter school, Javier stood in front of his locker, wondering why his stupid lock wouldn't open. He had done the combination three times. Had Ignacio or Andy switched locks as a joke? Luckily he knew their combinations too, and it was Andy's numbers that finally worked. They must have done the switch while he was busy helping Mrs. Alejandro take down lab equipment from the shelves after chemistry class. By the time Javier had made it to his locker, few boys were left in the halls, and his practical joker friends were long gone to band practice.

He not only got his lock back, but also switched up Ignacio and Andy's locks. He had a spare lock from last year's gym class and switched that to his locker instead.

He had just picked up his heavy backpack when he saw two of the guys talking and pointing at something behind Javier. He turned just as he heard a female voice.

“Hello. Have you seen my brother anywhere?”

Even though she was dressed in a white uniform blouse with a navy blue tie and a uniform blue-gray plaid skirt, Feliz Berlanga had model qualities. She moved gracefully as she walked toward him. Even the silly white socks didn't detract from the tanned, shapely legs. She was one of the prettiest girls he had ever met.