The F Factor (13 page)

Pat let out a long breath. “Good, he's gone. My mom can start cooking now. We can go inside the garage after I know he's had time to leave.”

If Ávila humor confused Pat, then it was the Berlanga chill factor that perplexed Javier. He had never seen a family like this. Sure, his big sisters demanded a lot of attention, and finding something in common with his older brothers was hard, but they always asked Javier about his schoolwork and came for his birthday parties. Even all the teasing among them was loving and affectionate. Why was Pat's family so different?

When they returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Berlanga had folded up the newspaper and walked toward the refrigerator, coffee cup in hand.

“Do you drink coffee?” she asked Javier.

“No. Do you have milk?”

“We only have skim. Pat, get your friend a glass of milk.” After that, Mrs. Berlanga didn't say another word to either of them. She stood at the stove and scrambled eggs with corn tortillas, peppers, onions, and tomatoes that smelled delicious. Meanwhile Javier asked more about the paints they would use for the backdrop and Pat described what he had in mind using a refrigerator box he had found on the curb in front of a new house down the road.

When Mrs. Berlanga set a steaming platter in the middle of the table and only two plates, Javier wondered again about the Berlangas as a family unit.

“Thank you, Mrs. Berlanga,” Javier said automatically. She said, “You're welcome,” and left the room with her coffee cup.

“This looks great.” Pat reached for the platter. He served himself generously.

“Your mom doesn't eat breakfast?”

“She's always on a diet. Her breakfasts come in the mail.” He handed the platter to Javier. “Go for it! My mom's a good cook.”

“Shouldn't we save something for Feliz and Brittany?”

“All I ever see Feliz eat is cereal that looks like seeds and twigs with berry yogurt,” Pat said. “Take as much as you want, Javier.”

J
avier watched Feliz walk Brittany to a long maroon car and wave as it drove away. Then she wandered toward the side room off the garage set up with a rack for garden tools, a riding lawnmower, and wide cabinet where the paints were stored. This was the place where Javier and Pat had sliced through the cardboard with box cutters and had primed the cardboard with white paint. All the windows and the two sliding wood doors leading to the back yard were open for ventilation, making the work a sweaty mess and the room hot and uncomfortable. They were taking a break, sitting on the cement ramp and drinking cold water from plastic bottles that Pat had brought from the house.

Javier knew he had paint on his face. His clothes clung to him with sweat, and his legs were dusted with cardboard shavings. Could he look any worse around a pretty girl?

“Do you have some pictures you want me to follow?” Feliz looked tanned and neat as she stepped up to the white cardboard and gave it a once-over. She wore tight red shorts and a tie-dyed tank top that outlined her curves.

Oh man!
It took a moment for Javier to trust his voice. “I found an image on the Internet the other night. It was a silhouette of the major city buildings.”

She nodded. “That'll work. We're lucky San Antonio has an easy outline.” She turned back to Javier and her lips opened with a smile. “Are you an artist?”

“I can paint a wall.” Javier chuckled to himself. “I don't think I'd call that art.”

Feliz nodded and then wiped her hand across her forehead. “It's way too hot to sketch out here. Pat, why don't you and Javier carry the cardboard into the garden room? Then I can draw without sweating. I'll get my laptop and meet you guys in there.”

Javier watched Feliz walk away, knowing her swinging hips and the bounce of her curly ponytail would haunt his dreams for the next year.

“Hey, stop staring at my sister and help me carry this cardboard,” Pat said, standing up. He tossed his empty bottle into a green recycling box near the lawnmower.

Javier stood up but avoided his friend's eyes. “Sure. Tell me what to do next.”

“Do you want the truth?”

“What?” That's when Javier looked at Pat directly.

“I know you like my sister, and she talks to you like a real person, so that's good.” Pat shrugged. “You're a smart guy, so impress her that way. She goes for intelligence so she can look smart too.” He turned around and said, “Okay, let's hope this cardboard is dry by now.”

The two of them carried the white cardboard down the ramp and across the grass to the back yard patio and deck. They walked past a shimmering swimming pool, a large brick grill, and wrought-iron deck furniture. They went through sliding glass doors that led to an enclosed room filled with plants and wall-to-wall windows. The floor was Mexican tile, and the white wicker chairs and wide ceiling fans gave the room a sense of tropical paradise. Best of all, the room was air-conditioned.

Once they leaned the cardboard against one set of windows, Javier felt way too dirty to be inside and asked for directions to the nearest bathroom. As he looked into the bathroom mirrors, and saw the paint dots across his face and the sweaty clumps of brown hair, he knew he was a lost cause. Still, he washed his face and used some water to smooth down his hair before he returned to Feliz in the garden room.

For the next hour, the three of them made a surprising good trio of workers. Javier stayed on the laptop, finding several city outlines on advertisements that Feliz could copy. Then he moved to the school Web site to get images of the buildings. She sketched what she saw onto the white cardboard while Pat decided what paints he would use. They made small talk, laughed when someone made a mistake, and discussed color and shading, making the whole job seem interesting and fun.

Some time later Feliz tossed the pencil down on the table. “I think I'm done here. The rest is up to you two.” She stretched her arms above her head.

Javier tried not to stare at the tanned belly button peeking out between her shirt and shorts. “Th—thanks for all your help, Feliz.”

Before she left, she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “You owe me some chemistry help, Javier. I'll be calling you!”

He should have grinned happily with the thought of a phone call from Feliz. Instead, he gave a phony smile to hide his worries about teaching her a science he was only learning himself this year. For the first time all day, his feet began to itch like crazy.

After they carried the whiteboard back to the garage, Pat began to show Javier how to use an airbrush. It took several false starts before they got the right pressure on the trigger and the best distance from the board.

“Pat, I'm going to screw this up,” he said, feeling a slight tremble in his hand.

“No, you won't, Javier,” he replied and lightly sprayed a thin blue streak above the sketches Feliz had drawn. “The great thing about airbrushes is that you work in layers. We'll paint the sky first. If you mess up, the next layer of black will cover it up.”

Even though Pat encouraged him the whole time, Javier decided to let Pat do the black outlines of the buildings on his own. He sat on the riding lawnmower and was impressed by Pat's ease with the paints and his skill with the airbrushes. At the same time, Javier felt proud of his own small contribution to a piece of art that would improve the look of the broadcast. Even though it was still rough, Javier knew Mr. Seneca would like it too.

When they heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway, Pat put down the airbrushes. “My dad's home. I can do the rest tomorrow. Let's get this place cleaned up, and then I'll drive you home in my mother's car.”

Javier stood up. “You have your driver's license?”

Pat was looking down, untwisting the nozzle from the glass container of paint. “Yes. I've had it about two weeks now.”

Javier continued to be surprised by his new friend. “But why don't you drive to school? Can't you just go pick out a fine car at Berlanga Motors?”

Pat's head shot up to reveal an angry frown. “Just ‘cause a guy has a license doesn't mean he gets a car.” He squeezed the equipment in his fists. “Do you think you're too good to ride in the backseat of my sister's
fine
car?”

His tone had turned so ugly that Javier could do nothing but take a step back. Then he got mad too. “I just asked a couple of questions. If I was out of line, just tell me. Don't chew my head off.”

“Sorry.” Pat turned away and walked toward a small double-sink in the corner of the room. “Help me get this place cleaned up, will you?”

Javier busied himself, picking up rags and pushing the air compressors back against the wall. He tried to understand Pat better now that he had met his parents, but having lousy parents was no excuse for dumping on friends. When he turned around and saw Pat reach for the backdrop, Javier stepped up to help him carry it. They leaned the painted cardboard against a rear wall where it wouldn't be in anyone's way. He looked directly at Pat. What happened to that talented guy he was just beginning to respect?

“I was the one out of line, Javier. Sorry.” Pat shrugged his shoulders. “Let's just keep this license thing between us, okay? I don't need the guys at school giving me a hard time because I don't have a new car to drive. It's tough when the owner of Berlanga Motors is your father. ” His facial expression was weighed down with so much sadness
that Javier struggled to find something positive to lift Pat's mood.

That's when he glanced at the cardboard painting behind them and said, “No one's going to give you a hard time after they see this picture on the newscast, Pat. You have a real talent here. I know everyone's going to be as impressed as I am.”

Pat stared at the drawing and nodded. “Thanks for saying that, Javier. You're a good guy.” He started to walk off, but then he looked back. “And no matter what happens between you and my sister—just remember, it wasn't
my
fault.”

F
ive more days
, Javier thought as he stepped off the bus on Monday morning.

Sounded like a kid waiting for Christmas, but he was really a teenager sick of school bus rides and having his parents drive him everywhere. He could apply for his permanent license on Friday, his birthday. He knew there was an old truck parked in Uncle Willie's back yard that would become his in just
five more days
.

He walked across the parking lot and toward the school buildings. He heard a series of car horns, and when he looked around, Javier saw Feliz's dark car parked at the curb and Pat hopping out of it. He gestured at Javier to come over.

Grabbing a chance to see Feliz again, Javier immediately walked toward the driver's side of the Berlanga's car. When the front window slid down, he stopped and smiled at the pretty driver. “Hi, Feliz.”

“Hi, Javier,” she said, but her head was turned away. “I realized I don't have your number to call you about my chemistry homework. Here!”

Suddenly her hand extended from the car window. She held an expensive phone.

Javier stepped forward and took it from her. His breath sucked tight inside his chest. He stared at Feliz, uncertain what to do next.

She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and sighed. “Well, punch your number in! You don't expect me to do it, do you?”

“Sure, yeah, right,” Javier murmured and looked down at the thin silver phone. He might have looked
really
stupid, except it was exactly like his sister Vivian's new phone.
Yes!
He felt very confident as he quickly punched numbers and his name into it. When would Feliz make first contact? His brain buzzed with the possibilities.

“Hey! Need some help back here!” Pat yelled out from behind the car.

“Okay!” Javier called back and slowly handed the phone to Feliz. He tried to imitate that smile Kenny had given Ms. Maloney the week before. “Call me any time, Feliz, anytime at all.”

She removed her sunglasses before she took the phone from his hand. “Maybe tonight … ” Her lips parted with a seductive smile. “… if you get lucky.”

“Javier!” Pat yelled louder.

The dark window lifted up automatically, and if Feliz still smiled at Javier, well, he couldn't see it. He turned and quickly walked to the back of the car.

Pat had opened both back doors of the sports vehicle. He dragged the folded cardboard toward his body. “I can manage this. Just grab my backpack, okay?”

Javier reached for Pat's backpack that rested on the asphalt behind the car. “Are you sure I can't help you carry the board?”

“No. This isn't heavy—just awkward.” He lifted the backdrop into his arms. “Shut the doors and follow me to Mr. Seneca's room, okay?”

As Pat moved out of the way, Javier called out, “Goodbye, Feliz!” When he heard the music go louder in the vehicle, he sighed and shut both doors. He quickly stepped up on the curb in case she backed up and ran over him with her car.