Nothing Else Matters (4 page)

Reyna slapped me on the chest playfully. “Oh, Scott, everybody loves you. You’re Scott Kincaid. You’re a living legend.” She snuggled deeper into me.

That’s not what I meant. As far as I knew, everyone loved Scott Kincaid, the star athlete of Charleston Prep. Would they love me if I was no longer that Scott?

I sat in silence as I tried to think of the right words to express this. How could I describe the kind of love I was looking for?

  "Do I only date blondes?" I asked finally.

  "What do you call Amber? You're dating her aren't you? She's not blond."

  "Well, I mean normally. Am I picky?"

  Reyna sucked in her breath and blew her cheeks out like a blowfish. Then she let it out. "Let me have a look at that shoulder," she said as she stood and walked to my other side.

"Hey, answer the question."

"The star athlete of Charleston Prep who gets articles in Sports Illustrated can't just date anyone," she said as her fingers worked over my shoulder and down my arm.

"Is that really what you think of me?"

"Scottie, I know you're a great guy. We've been tight since —”

"Since you walked into my sixth grade English class."

"Right. Anyway, since that time, I think your priorities may have changed a little."

"What do you mean?" I grabbed her hand and sat her down next to me.

"Somewhere along the way you became this superhuman, bigger than life personality. I mean, you're still somewhat normal around me, but to everyone else, you're a god. That's
gotta
be a hard standard to live up to. I'm afraid to think what'll happen when it comes crashing down."

I couldn't respond. I didn't know how to. Once again, she was right. Maybe the pain in my shoulder was psychosomatic, a reflection of all the pressure I endured on a daily basis. I looked down and noticed we were holding hands ... again.

"Why is it we've never … you know, got together?" I said as I massaged her hand and stared into her eyes.

"What are you doing?" She snatched her hand away as if my touch were fire. Her eyes grew wide with a look of fear tinged with confusion.

"I'm just asking a question."

Reyna stood and brushed the sand off of her white leather pants. "This is not a game, Scottie.  I am not one to be played," she said, hustling back toward the house.

I jumped up to try to follow her, but another muscle spasm paralyzed me.

"How was the game?" Walter Lewis asked his daughter when she entered their town house.

"Fine. We won." She took off her coveted Puerto Rican flag scarf and joined her father at the kitchen table where he had spread out numerous bills and important looking documents.

"Great! Congratulations. I tell you that quarterback of yours is unstoppable in the clutch. He's gonna —"

"He's not my quarterback," Reyna snapped.

Walter looked up from his papers, seemingly caught off guard by Reyna's uncharacteristic attitude. He took off his glasses and folded his hands in front of him. "I didn't mean you particularly. I meant Charleston Prep's."

"Oh."

"What's with the tone? You seem a bit defensive."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Walter pushed away his current project and gave his daughter his full attention.

Reyna took in a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks. "I think Scott wanted to kiss me tonight," she said as she let out the air.

"And?"

"What do you mean ‘and'? It's ...
it's
weird."

“I can remember a time when you wouldn't have thought it was so weird."

Reyna blushed thinking about the huge crush she had on him back in the sixth grade. She remembered she was even able to manipulate him into a first kiss. "Well that was a long time ago. Things change." Reyna crossed her arms and slouched a little in the chair. Soon after that first kiss, Scott became some sort of sports god and girls were lining up to kiss him. She refused to join the line. So she forced herself only to see him as a friend. "What's so funny, Daddy?" she asked when she noticed a huge grin across her father's face.

"You are so much like your mother. Always trying to control everything, even emotions." He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "You know I chased her for two years before she agreed to go out with me. But three months after that first date, we were married. You know the saying ‘once you go black you never go back.'"

Reyna couldn't help but smile at her father's confidence even though she knew the true story of her parents meeting.  Her father was a tall skinny nerd who had moved to Puerto Rico after college in order to help build a recreation center in the poor village where her mother lived. He wanted to build a place for the young people to go and stay out of trouble. That was her father's mission in life, to save the world one
rec
center at a time. Walter fell in love with Francesca Romero, one of the local volunteers. He was so in love with her that he stayed in the town for two years after the facility was built just so he could pursue her. What Walter didn't know was that Francesca wasn't being stubborn when she refused to date him. She was actually obeying her parents' wishes to stay away from the American black boy. Reyna only knew because La Cienega told her.

  It pained her to realize that though her mother's parents lived in a shack in one of the poorest sections of Puerto Rico, they still thought they were too good for her father just because of the color of his skin.

"Daddy, how come you haven't dated anyone else since her death?" Reyna asked after a moment.

Walter Lewis cleared his throat and put his glasses back on. "My father's money is running low," he said as he started shifting papers around the table. "I have to find a way to squeeze out a few thousand dollars from somewhere to repave the basketball court on our 7th street center."

Reyna stood from the table and walked around to embrace her father. "It wasn't your fault, Daddy."

"Thank you, Sweetheart," he said after shutting his eyes tightly to block the tears. "It wasn't your fault either." Reyna didn't share that belief. She would always blame herself for her mother's death. She released her father and walked into the kitchen."You want me to make you something to eat?"

"Reyna, it's almost midnight. I want you to get some sleep. You don't sleep enough."

Reyna shook her head. "I want to work on some Calculus tonight. I won't stay up too long though."

"It's Friday night. There should be laws against doing Calculus on a Friday night. Well, why don't you take tomorrow off? We should be fine at the center without you for one Saturday. Go see a movie or something with Scottie."

"No way. I'm having an early study session tomorrow with some of the black students at Charleston Prep. They're having a tough time with the transition from public school," she said, opening the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of water.

Walter shook his head. "Reyna, you can't personally ensure that every black student at Charleston Prep makes the honor roll. At some point these kids have to take responsibility for their own grades."

"But Daddy, everyone needs a role model or mentor at some point, especially these kids. I mean, I hate to say it, but some of the black students that Charleston Prep admits are not prepared for such a rigorous academic environment. They just admit them to make their diversity numbers look good and then do nothing to support them academically. Then within a year or two they're on academic probation and end up flunking out. Or they're able to squeak by with D's and then face failure in college. Now when a white student is failing at Charleston prep do you know what happens? I'll tell you what happens. Their rich old Charleston money parents buy them tutors for every subject to get them through the school year. Well, some of the black students can't afford that so, you know what? I'll be their tutor in every subject if I have to be."

Reyna beat her plastic bottle of water against the kitchen counter emphatically with each sentence trying to drive home her point.

“You know, Reyna, Charleston Preparatory School isn’t all about grades. They seek to develop unique, well-rounded students. Maybe the students aren’t admitted because they’re black, but because they have a special talent. That’s part of the reason I chose that school for you.”

She nodded at that fact. Charleston Prep was a very progressive school that fostered a community of individuality. They were the only private school in the Charleston Area that didn’t require uniforms and afforded their students almost limitless freedom. Charleston Prep had very few rules.

“That may be true, Daddy, but it is still a college preparatory school.  No matter how well you can sing, or dance, or toss a football you still need to be able to pass geometry if you’re going to make it in college.”

"Okay, Okay, I see your point. I didn't mean to get you started on one of your tangents. I just wanted you to take a break. That's all. Why don't you and Scottie go to a movie tomorrow after your study session?”

"That'll never happen," Reyna said after chuckling to herself. She took a swig of water and said, "First of all, there is no time for movies on a Saturday at the Kincaid house. It's like a Rocky training video at that place." After reaching into the pantry and pulling out a bag of chips she added, "Second of all, it would never be allowed. Sam Kincaid hates me."

  Reyna kissed her father, and then dashed upstairs with her chips and water.

  After two hours of drilling herself on derivatives, Reyna still wasn't tired. Normally she would pick up the phone and call Scott. He would pretend he wasn't asleep either and they would talk till the wee hours of the morning until she could hear him snoring on the other end. But tonight it felt too weird to do that. She was afraid he would bring up his question again. Why had they never dated? She had convinced herself for so many years that he was just a friend and that she didn't want to see him as more. She didn't want to be one of his silly blonde bimbo gold-digging girlfriends. She was better than that. And she knew Scott didn't see her that way. So there had to be another reason. There was something else holding her back from falling for him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something that made Scott Kincaid off limits.

It took me over an hour before I felt strong enough to walk off the beach outside of Andrew’s place without giving away my ailment. Then I ran into Amber and had to comfort her before I could make a clean break. For some reason, I decided to reassure her of our relationship instead of breaking it off right then and there like I wanted to. I didn't want to completely wreck her. Obviously that girl was about as nutty as a squirrel's intestines.

When I got home from the costume/victory party, I found my little brother in my room playing my Xbox.

"
Wanna
play?" Stu asked without taking his eyes off the flat screen TV, a gift from Sam after I threw a no-hitter last baseball season.

Even though it was already almost two in the morning, I would never turn down a chance to show Stu a little attention. It was something our mother always failed to do.

"That was a great game, Scott. I'm sorry Sam's not happy about it."

"That's all right. You know as well as I do she's hard to please." I reset the racing game and picked up the extra controller.

"Yeah, I know." Stu continued to stare at the television.

"So, what's up, little buddy? Why are you really in my room at two o'clock in the morning? You don't even like this game." I studied my little brother as I waited for a response, wondering how we could be so different. At fifteen, Stu was very mature for his age. He was a sensitive soul that worked through his anxiety with music. Even though he sported a Goth look complete with died black hair and black nail polish, he was an excellent musician who played piano, flute, cello and guitar. I admired his ability to defy Sam and be different.