No One's Watching (33 page)
Authors: Sandy Green
I am a runaway.
No matter how many steps I jogged, I could not run past that fact. But I ran anyway. It was my release. In the past, every problem, every unpleasant circumstance, every horrifying family revelation I met with laced-on tennis shoes and a good long sprint down the lane, past the security guard and through the gate. Ignoring my bodyguard Hector as he cursed and struggled to keep up with me. I could have run to China and back by now, this eighteenth year of my life. Too many problems. Too many miles. Back home I could never really breathe clearly until the family estate was behind me and the ocean breeze was blowing in my face like a much needed oxygen mask. But today I was alone, the scenery was different, and the air was as heavy and oppressive as my thoughts.
It's so hot here.
I stripped off the shirt I could almost wring sweat from, trying to concentrate on each stride. No wonder we avoided being here in the summer, at the “escape house.” What new meaning that had taken on now. It wasn't home like Baja California, but it was safe, uncomplicated, and the birthplace of my mother. And now Mom and I were here to stay. Austin our new home. Mexico still too close. True to his word, we had not heard from my father. His silence was as frightening as it was welcome. Neither of us was ready to hear any more of what he would have to say.
A triple digit temperature and ninety-five percent humidity were definitely going to shorten the normal length of my run. No time to run out my fear, frustration, and anger. Of course, I could run a million miles and still be mad. I'd have to work on that. For now, I focused my energy on not letting the weather win. If I could remember all of the turns through this exclusive, rolling hill-country neighborhood, I would wind up at the edge of Lake Austin, into which I planned to jump, heavy heart, shoes and all, hoping the cool water would soothe as nothing else had.
A car approached from behind me, so I jogged to the edge of the road and under the cover of the live oaks, thankful for their shade. The car slowed, so I turned in time to see the passenger window being lowered on my mom's SUV.
“Mateo.” My mother's soft voice, heartbreakingly subdued and sad.
Fresh anger coursed through me, and for a moment I hated my father. But just for a moment. No matter his crimes, he was still my dad. I struggled to separate who he was from what he now did. Was that even possible? How intertwined were they?
“Mateo, you're going to have a heatstroke. Can't you wait until evening?”
I stopped running and peered into her Land Rover's window and willed my voice to sound light, soothing. “Mom, it was still ninety-eight degrees at ten o'clock last night. I'm sticking to the shade and heading for the lake. I'll be fine. I thought you were going shopping.” Could I distract her from her pain? “I still need uniform pieces, and school starts tomorrow.” She didn't need to worry about me. She had enough weight on her shoulders to sink a ship. But I could see it in her eyes. She hated to have me out of her sight.
“Yes, I'm on my way.” She sighed and pulled her sunglasses up onto her head to hold back her dark hair, her blue eyes piercing into mine. “Are you sure about this school?”
“Isn't it a little late for that?” Grinning at her, I hoped my inherited baby blues and the dimples I hated and she loved would cause her to relax, even just a little. With effort, I pushed away the guilt that gnawed at me day and night. Every decision I made lately rocked her world. Fleeing. Hiding. Schooling. I was trying to be the man of the house, something as third son I had never imagined myself being. I was the clown, the peacemaker, the athlete, and the baby of the family.
Head
was foreign to me, but Mom's fragile emotional state made it necessary. And despite the guilt, I stood by my idea to leave, to come to Austin and try to flee the chaos and survive.
“Mom, I don't want a private tutor any more. Aren't we trying to be normal? To gain what we could never have there? I want to go to school. I want to have classmates and play sports and get detention⦔
She smiled softly at that. “You wouldn't dare.”
The words had been spoken lightly, but I instantly regretted them. Trouble was something we needed no more of. I reached through the car window and laid my hand gently on her shoulder.
“Mom, I'm excited about this. A real school. Friends I'm not related to in some way. We've been over this. It's a small, safe, private school with good security. It'll be fun. For both of us. You can get involved with the parents' organization. Meet some people, make some friends of your own. Shoot, by the end of the year you'll probably have the whole place redecorated. We need some fun. We deserve it.” There was an edge to my voice now. I took a deep, calming breath and started over.
“Now stop worrying and go shop. Size eleven, brown leather. I don't care what style. I trust you.” Mom had better style than most designers. I knew she wouldn't pick out anything ugly or conspicuous and get me too noticed in a
What is that guy trying to pull?
kind of way. And she needed a task. This was the first time I had gotten her out of the house in days. I stepped away from the car as she sighed and blew me a kiss, a deer-in-headlights look on her face. If nothing else, I was going to make that look go away.
My run interrupted, I started off again at a much slower pace, deep in thought.
I am doing the right thing
seemed to be my mantra now. I repeated it over and over in my head, day after day. Despite that, I had my doubts. Huge, overwhelming, strangle-hold kinds of doubts that haunted my sleepless nights. Was my attempt to be safe, to keep her safe, just inviting more danger into our lives? Was it just a selfish act of teenage rebellion? Crap, when I stopped to really think, I realized I could even be endangering my new classmates. I thought of the face of the compassionate headmaster and wondered what it would look like if he guessed even a tenth of the truth about my family, a truth that if known would never have allowed me to be admitted to that school. To any school, for that matter. Too late now. Picking up my pace, I headed for the lake.
****
Nervous. That's what it was, that sensation that had awakened me so early. It was stupid, being nervous about school, and I wanted to be above that, but there it was. After all, it wasn't just the first day of my senior year; it was my first day of school ever. Private tutors, sibling classmates, and our large, warm home had not prepared me for this. Homeschool had been the only option my father had ever given my brothers and me, even before the real trouble had started. Aside from my
fútbol
team, I hadn't been allowed to socialize much with people who hadn't passed through my father's security detail and been approved. It felt strange, getting ready to step onto a high school campus of four hundred students I didn't know and have them judge me for me, and not for what my family represented. A fresh start, just as planned. As much as I looked forward to it, I felt vulnerable. I wasn't used to feeling vulnerable. I didn't like it. Despite the crested, navy blue blazer, button-down shirt, red tie and khakis, I felt naked. I halfway wished I were. It would have been more appropriate in the summer heat.
My mom was banging around in the kitchen, so I pasted a calm expression on my face before I headed down the hallway. I saw her before she saw me, staring out the back window, scrutinizing the landscaping. Searching for danger.
“Relax, Mom. The most dangerous thing out there is Doodles. We're safe here.”
She smiled. It was thin and unconvincing.
Doodles was the Labradoodle puppy my brother Thomas had gotten her for Christmas, the last almost-carefree time our whole family was together. He had been left here in the temporary care of a neighbor and not retrieved as planned after Thomas' accident. He was bewildered by our presence now, darting close and then taking off again before we could touch him.
“Thomas wouldn't believe how much he's grown. I sent him a picture from my phone yesterday.”
“Did he respond?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. We hadn't heard from anyone since we left.
“No.” She sighed, a sound far too frequently on her lips now, her forehead pressed against the glass of the French door. “Mateo, this has all been so fast I'm not sure what to think. Maybe I've become institutionalized, staying so long on that protected compound and leaving only with security in tow. It panics me to think of you going to school all alone with no protection.” She laughed, a sad and hollow sounding thing.
Would she ever feel safe again? Could I make her happy?
“I guess I don't know how to be normal anymore. But I want that for you, and so I won't stand in your way, but please be careful. You know you can't get too close to anyone. For their sake and yours. Make friends, have fun, but maintain a healthy distance. I know it's a horribly unfair thing to ask⦔
“It's okay, Mom. It will be great just to have someone to talk to other than Reuben and Tico. Not that the gardeners aren't great conversationalists.” My attempt to lighten the mood was met with a small smile, but anxiety still reigned in her eyes.
“Be careful,
mi corazon
. You're all I have right now.” A trembling whisper. I opened my mouth to reassure her and shut it again. Anything I had to say would sound false. We both knew there were no guarantees in life, especially ours.
“I'll call you at lunch and come right home after school. Are you going anywhere today while I'm gone?”
Please say yes. Don't worry. Live life. Do something to replace what we used to
have.
She sat on a barstool and looked down into her coffee. “I have a hair appointment, but I'm not sure I'm going.”
“Go,” I said too forcefully. And then, to lighten it, “Not that you aren't beautiful already.”
Smiling wryly, she reached up to touch my face, whispering “Vaya con Dios.”
“I will,” I whispered back and quickly kissed her forehead before grabbing my keys from a hook and heading for the door. “And hey, while you're at the salon, you might as well be preemptive and have them color that gray you're adding to your hair with all of this unnecessary worrying. I got us here safely, didn't I? I think I can get to school and back without any major incidents.”
Please let it
be true.
I stepped outside quickly before that deer-in-headlights look came back to her face. I knew if I saw it now, it would haunt me all day.
****
The drive to school was short. My parents had built our home in Austin two years ago in a new, gated community in the southwest part of the city filled with million dollar homes, Texas live oaks, and lots of families. My father had claimed at the time that we needed more living space than our current Texas home had to offer, so our excursions to the States would be more frequent and comfortable. I now saw it for what it was. Distraction. And it had worked. Mom had no idea things had gotten so out of control at home until Thomas had been injured in January. The Tuscan-style house was beautiful and conveniently located close to the prestigious school to which I had been admitted. I didn't want to be more than five minutes' drive from Mom. I never knew when I might be needed, despite the security detail I had hired to protect her and the property.
Please protect her.
I pulled my truck into West Austin Academy's parking lot and smiled. In many places back home, my brand new F-250 would have stood out. Here, it made me look almost humble. There was a lot of money represented at this school, and the cars in the lot reflected that, as did the beautiful campus and the guarded gate the overzealous board had installed. The security measures were what had persuaded Mom to give this a chance. I had chosen the school because the people here had seemed hardworking, sincere, honest, and kind. Traits I found refreshing and hoped would prove healing to both my mom and me.
Parking, I grabbed my backpack, which so far contained only my schedule and a spiral notebook, and headed for the main building. Thanks to a tour with the headmaster, I knew where I was going. Of course, it also wouldn't have been difficult to just follow the crowd. Everywhere I looked, similarly dressed people, the girls in skirts instead of khaki pants and sans tie, milled about talking and laughing and walking to the same doors I was. Many of them stopped to look at me. I could almost hear them wondering if I was just a tall, mature looking freshman or a new upperclassman. The student body, I had been told, was relatively small and tight-knit, most of them having filtered in from one of two private middle schools in the area. Despite the identical uniform, I stood out like a sore thumb.
A couple of girls smiled at me and I smiled back before averting my eyes. Be friendly, but stay detached. I would probably come across as rude, but it was a chance I would have to take. Besides, I wasn't used to caring what people thought about me. I wasn't about to start now. Of course before now if someone had thought something negative they had been too scared to say anything. It might be refreshing to hear an insult or two. At any rate, I was who I was. Taking a deep breath, I headed for homeroom.
“Hey, you're the new kid.” Spoken as a statement, not a question. A tall, blond guy smiled kindly at me. “I'm Wade Robbins. Nice to meet you.”
Oh, the headmaster's son. I shook his extended hand.
“Mateo Reyna. Nice to meet you, too.”
“Dad said you're from Mexico. I don't hear an accent.” Tall and nosy. Wade was silently assessing me, but his expression was open and friendly, so I answered without hesitation.
“My mom's from here. I've lived all of my life until now in Baja California, but we've always maintained a house here in Austin.”
Wade nodded and continued. “So, what brings you here now? Senior year is a hard time to relocate.”
If only you knew
. “It was just time for a change.”
“Oh, well, welcome. Come on, I'll introduce you to the guys.” He turned and walked into the building, calling out introductions to several people whose names and faces I tried to commit to memory.
The
guys
, who included some girls, all seemed nice enough. Being the new kid afforded me an almost celebrity status at the small school. By the afternoon's study hall, I had spoken more in one day than in the previous month combined. I had explained multiple times and to more people than I would ever remember who I was, where I was from, why I had blue eyes and spoke flawless English, and even where my mom had purchased my shoes. It was with some relief that I walked to the car after the last bell, pulling my cell phone out of my pocket to call Mom and let her know I was on my way. I was stopped before I could dial.
“Hey, soccer star. I'm Coach Williams. Got a minute?”
The introduction was almost unnecessary. The man approaching me â tall, fit, slightly balding, whistle hanging from his neck â looked so much like a coach it was as if he'd been cast for the part. Suppressing a smile, I introduced myself.
“Well, Mateo, I hear from Mr. Robbins that you are quite the soccer player, and I look forward to seeing that come winter. We're only big enough to have one team here, and it's co-ed, but we're pretty competitive.
This time it was all I could do not to smile. Girls on the pitch with the guys? If my former teammates back home ever found out, they would never let me live that down.
“So, I was wondering if you've ever tried our brand of football?”
“Sir?” Was he recruiting me?
“We could use a kicker. It was suggested to me that soccer players make good kickers. I was wondering if you would like to come on over to the field and give it a try.”
“Right now?” Was he serious? And American football? I knew how to kick a football. My American cousins had made sure of that. I just never pictured myself doing it on a high school team. Then again, I'd never pictured a lot of things that had come to pass. Sometimes you just rolled with the punches. I nodded.
“Give me a minute to call my mom, sir, and I'll be right over. I can't make any promises, but I guess I'm willing to try.” Coach Williams looked relieved. He clapped me on the back and smiled.
“That's all I can ask. I'll be running drills with the assistant coaches, so look for Blake to set you up. I'll come see what you've got in a little while.”
Mom sounded almost relieved when I called to explain the delay as I walked through the parking lot. She laughed at the potential of having a son on a football team. A real laugh. It lifted an invisible barbell from my chest. I'd make a complete fool of myself in shoulder pads and those ridiculous looking pants if it made her happy. Arriving at my truck, I put my backpack, now laden with books, in the back seat, along with my blazer, tie, and button-down shirt. I grabbed the running shoes I always kept with me and switched into them. My khakis and white t-shirt, already sticking to me in the heat, would have to do. Taking a swig from my water bottle, I headed over to the field, looking for someone named Blake.
