The F Factor (24 page)

“Hey, I was just trying to take the edge off.” He grinned all the same.

Javier let it go. If everybody had agreed to discretion, his teachers couldn't mention failing a test either. Besides, he could bet that Mr. Seneca wanted them to find the camera equipment and get lost.

“There's a box on the bottom shelf!” Mr. Seneca called after Pat had opened the cabinet door. “I labeled the tapes as I made them. The August/September dates would be the two of you. Don't lose it. I haven't had time to make copies.”

Javier found their tape but also grabbed the broadcast with the music video too. Meanwhile, Pat pulled out the camera bag and the tripod. They had the cabinet locked and were walking back to return the keys to Mr. Seneca in no time.

Ms. Maloney stood at one of the maps on the wall reading it with apparent interest. Mr. Seneca sat at his desk, shuffling papers.

Javier placed the keys on the desktop and said, “Thank you, Mr. Seneca. Have a good weekend. You too, Ms. Maloney.”

“Good-bye, gentlemen,” he said quite abruptly and didn't make eye contact.

Ms. Maloney turned around to offer a weak wave of one hand. “Have a good weekend, guys. I hope your parents enjoy the show.”

“Thanks. Bye.” Javier grabbed his backpack and followed Pat outside.

Pat waited until the door closed behind them before he let out a gigantic sigh. “Okay, I'm going to rank that as one of the worst moments of my life!”

“I learned a whole new definition for awkward that won't be on any SAT test.” Javier walked to the railing and rested his backpack on top. He unzipped the middle compartment and put the tapes inside. He surprised himself by smiling. “Look on the bright side, Pat. We can't tell anyone what we saw today.”

“That's too bad.” Pat lifted his eyebrows and grinned. “If everyone started talking about Ms. Maloney and Mr. Seneca messing around, then who'd care that Javier Ávila got an F on his chemistry test?”

I
n all the excitement of a failed test and the sight of two teachers in a romantic moment, Javier had been too busy to check the messages on his phone until he arrived in his own driveway. Both his parents had called about
working late. His father wanted to finish the roof on a restored building in Universal City in case of rain, and his mom was meeting with auditors at the office. So he wouldn't have to deal with their reactions to the chemistry grade right away, and he couldn't bring it up while his big brothers and their kids were piling on the pancakes tomorrow morning or before they showed up for hamburgers and the Dallas game. He'd wait until Sunday night, which was usually a quiet time in their house. His mom would be reading the newspaper at the kitchen table; his father would be watching TV in the den; and Javier would be in his room doing homework. It was the perfect time to break the news to them.

Javier glanced at the camera bag Pat had left on the front seat and decided to follow his buddy's advice: “Just enjoy the game tonight and forget about the F.”

But not before he went over the test. Javier had to know why he had made such careless errors and knew he wouldn't enjoy anything until he had the answer. He'd leave corrections for later, but now that he was all alone, he wanted some time to read through the test, figure out the mistakes, and plan ways not to repeat them.

Later, as he drove with Pat to the football game, Javier tried to explain what he had learned, but it was obvious Pat was more concerned about his phone messages from Carrie than whatever Javier was saying. That's when Javier realized he had left his phone at home. He wondered if Amanda had left
him
any messages.
Probably not
.

“Carrie can't make it tonight. Says she has to babysit. Do you think it's the truth?” Pat was frowning at his phone like Carrie could magically see him on her phone screen.

“Why do you think she's lying to you?” Javier asked him as he glanced in the sideview mirror to check traffic as he drove onto the expressway. “Did you do something wrong?”

“I don't know. Last weekend was the first one we spent together. I think she liked me better online.” Pat sighed. “I was going to ask her to Homecoming. Figured you could ask Amanda, and maybe if Andy asks Natalie, we could have some fun.”

“What about Ignacio?” Javier replied. “We can't leave him out.”

“Don't you have any other cousins?”

“Do you?”

Pat chuckled. “Well, let's hope Natalie has one more friend.”

Once they got on the football field sidelines and started to work with the camera, both guys forgot about anything else. They had to concentrate hard as they tried to follow the game from the sidelines.

Javier was used to watching football games on television where a commentator's analysis and instant replays tracked the movement of both teams. But standing on the field, it was hard to distinguish patterns of offense and defense. Football players tangled up quickly; spotting the ball became a guessing game. Javier and Pat tried a variety of places to stand: behind a goal post, on the opponent's side of the field, and near the trainer's table. They managed to film a Guardian touchdown and the extra point by accident, not by planning.

By the end of the first quarter, Javier had a better understanding of Kenny's bad mood at the last game. It was not that the Guardian football team was losing
tonight, but it was extremely frustrating to focus on key plays and capture them on film.

“I can't believe someone as impatient as Kenny García could film a game,” Javier commented as they waited for the official's whistle to start the second quarter. “I have new respect for the cameramen who bring us football games on TV.”

“Well, on TV, it's not two goofy sophomores who don't know what they're doing,” Pat replied. He stopped checking the sight through the lens and looked at Javier. “It's a team of camera people shooting from different angles and some director in a booth watching the monitors and putting them in order. I think I want to be
that
guy.”

“I don't like sports that much. I'd like to be the guy who makes a documentary that helps people think,” Javier said. “Or maybe take a book and make it into a movie.”

“Aren't you mixing up your jobs? Do you want to make movies or write scripts?”

“Why can't I do both?”

The whistle sounded, and they both started paying attention to the game again.

They lucked out catching another touchdown on film. When Javier saw the band lining up at the opposite side of the field, he told Pat they should go to the top of the bleachers and film half-time from a higher vantage point.

“I think we should ask Mr. Seneca to buy more cameras,” Javier said as Pat untwisted the camera off the tripod. “It would be great to have someone on the field and someone up in the stands. Editing could be more fun too.”

From the top of the bleachers, they took turns filming the band. They also panned the camera across the crowd for other images to use.

The third quarter had just begun when the drizzle started.

Pat muttered several curse words. “Rain … just what we need. If this equipment gets wet, Mr. Seneca will kill us.”

Javier was already reaching for the camera bag. He handed it to Pat and then started to fold up the tripod. “Let's go under the bleachers. If the rain stops, we'll go back on the sidelines.”

But the drizzle became a steady rain, and while it could have made for great film to show highlights from a mud bowl, Javier and Pat decided it was better not to anger Mr. Seneca, and neither one of them wanted to pay for damaged equipment. Besides, the Guardians were winning against Temple 18-3.

As the fourth quarter started, almost half the people had already left the stadium.

Javier and Pat agreed that it would be dumb to spend any more time standing under the bleachers, especially as thunder rumbled in the distance. Pat put the camera bag under his shirt, and Javier folded up the tripod into its smallest size and carried it in one hand against his chest. They ran to the parking lot, trying to sidestep watery potholes, and trying not to fall on the slippery parking lot.

They were both wet and panting when they finally sat inside the truck.

A clap of thunder was followed by streaks of lightning above the stadium lights.

“That's it. They'll end the game now. The refs won't let them play in lightning,” Pat said, positioning the camera bag between his legs. “Man, I'm soaked!”

Javier shivered from the wet T-shirt clinging to his body. He rubbed down his wet arms and wiped his hands on his damp jeans. His face pinched together nervously
as heavy rain pummeled the truck cab. Inside the small space, the noise sounded like stones fell from the sky. “I've never driven in a storm like this,” he said to Pat.

“Me neither. Do you want to sit here for a while and see if it stops?”

“No. I'll just take it slow. If it gets worse, I'll pull over.”

As Javier drove out of the stadium parking lot, he was grateful to follow the line of red tail lights in front of him. Even though it was hard to see between the hard rain and the whipping windshield wipers, Javier enjoyed the warmth from the defroster. Pat said nothing as he checked his phone again, and except for a frustrated grunt, he stared out the window silently. Javier didn't want to try to talk and drive in the storm at the same time, so he was quiet too.

By the time he reached the exit for the Woodlawn Lake neighborhood, the rain had settled into a thick drizzle, but the thunder and lightning seemed to be over. It was good to be off the expressway and driving down a wet, but familiar street toward home. There were only a few cars on a usually busy street. All the houses looked dim and gray. Few house lights were on, and a church he passed looked empty and dark.

“I'm anxious to see the pictures we shot tonight,” Javier said. His hands relaxed on the steering wheel when he drove past his house and up the side street to drop off Pat. “I hope I didn't shake when I took pictures of the band.”

“It's too bad we can't get together tomorrow and work on this film,” Pat replied. He had flipped open his phone once more and then sighed. “You know, Javier, I've been thinking. What if my parents buy me the same editing software we have at school? My mom can usually guilt
my dad into something I want, especially if I can use it for school. I'll talk to her tomorrow. Maybe I'll even squeeze a new laptop out of the deal.”

Javier would never think to “squeeze” anything out of his parents. Pat's attitude made Javier's feet itchy, or maybe it was his wet socks. Regardless, he had to say, “You know, Pat, I have plenty of homework right now. I don't know if I can afford to spend my weekends working on film.”

“That's just the F in chemistry talking, Jack. I know you love what you're doing for Mr. Seneca's class. You should see the excitement on your face when you sit at the computer or when you tell us at lunch about the films you watched online.”

“Maybe I do like the class,” he said as the truck neared Pat's grandmother's house. “But I need to get serious, concentrate on my other classes before that F in chemistry burns a big hole in my GPA.”

“Who cares? So what if your GPA drops two or three points?” Pat replied, looking out his window. His voice hardened with more sarcasm. “What? You think your parents won't love you if you don't make As all the time?”

“Just shut up, Pat! You don't know what you're talking about.” Javier's anger hit him like a whip. He felt the sting from his head to his feet. “Just because—”

He never finished his sentence because Pat had started yelling. “Welita's house! It's on fire!”

“F
or God's sake, stop the truck!” Pat repeatedly pulled the lever on the truck door. “Let me out! Now, Javier!”

“I can't just stop in the middle of the street!”

“Then pull over, dammit!” His frustration made him angrier. “Damn, these doors! Javier! Stop the truck! Pull over! NOW!”

Javier jerked the steering wheel. The truck veered to the curb in front of the house next to Pat's grandmother's. He stomped on the brakes. They both shot forward and then slammed back into their seats. Javier did a quick shift into PARK so the truck doors would unlock. Pat whipped his door open, only to be lurched back by the seatbelt. His shaking hands tugged and pulled at the silver latch. He screamed and cursed.

“Pat, calm down!” Javier spoke in that same firm tone he used when Trey started to act like a crybaby. “You can't help anybody if you freak out!” He quickly reached over to press the release button on Pat's seatbelt, and then his own.

Pat stared at Javier, his dark eyes wild and frantic. But then he tossed over his phone. “Okay … here. Call 9-1-1. I'm going inside and get Welita out of the house.” He bolted out of the truck and ran toward the front porch.