Authors: Diane Gonzales Bertrand
The F Factor
THE F FACTOR
Alicia's Treasure
Close to the Heart
The Empanadas that Abuela Made /
Las empanadas que hacÃa la abuela
El dilema de Trino
Family, Familia
The Last Doll / La última muñeca
Lessons of the Game
El momento de Trino
Ricardo's Race / La carrera de Ricardo
The Ruiz Street Kids / Los muchachos de la calle Ruiz
Sip, Slurp, Soup, Soup / Caldo, caldo, caldo
Sweet Fifteeen
Trino's Choice
Trino's Time
Uncle Chente's Picnic / El picnic de TÃo Chente
Upside Down & Backwards / De cabeza y al revés
We Are Cousins / Somos primos
Diane Gonzales Bertrand
The F Factor
is made possible through grants from the City of Houston through the Houston Arts Alliance and by the Exemplar Program, a program of Americans for the Arts in collaboration with the LarsonAllen Public Services Group, funded by the Ford Foundation.
Piñata Books are full of surprises!
Arte Público Press
University of Houston
452 Cullen Performance Hall
Houston, Texas 77204-2004
Cover design by Mora Des!gn
Bertrand, Diane Gonzales
The F Factor / by Diane Gonzales Bertrand.
p. cm.
Summary: Javier Ãvila, a smart but clumsy sophomore at St. Peter's High School, thinks it is a mistake when he is placed in the new course, Media Broadcasting, but over the course of the year, he discovers self-confidence, the value of extracurricular activities, and a talent for broadcast journalism.
ISBN 978-1-55885-598-4 (alk. paper)
[1. Television broadcastingâFiction. 2. Self-confidenceâFiction. 3. Stereotypes (Social psychology)âFiction. 4. Catholic schoolsâFiction. 5. SchoolsâFiction. 6. Hispanic AmericansâFiction. 7. Family lifeâTexasâFiction. 8. TexasâFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.B46357Faf 2010 | |
[Fic]âdc22 | 2010000645 |
The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Information SciencesâPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.
© 2010 by Diane Gonzales Bertrand
Printed in the United States of America
April 2010âMay 2010
Versa Press Inc., East Peoria, IL
12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For
Suzanne and Nick
and
to my students
past, present, and future
PROLOGUE
F
lashing lights roamed the neighborhood like red ghosts. Emergency vehicles blocked the street. Thick drizzle made for a messy rescue. The crackle of radios, men yelling orders, and the quick appearance of neighbors staring from their porches and standing in their front yards made Javier Ãvila think he was watching a movie. But when the emergency technicians placed a mask over his friend's face, Javier knew he wasn't looking at a screen with carefully edited images for dramatic effect. This crisis was in-your-face reality.
“Why don't you open your eyes? Can't you hear all the noise?” Javier whispered. He stood a few feet away, living the surreal experience of watching an EMT pressing his fingers against pulse points, his friend lying in the wet grass, unresponsive.
Someone tugged Javier's arm. A young policewoman tried to pull him toward the ambulance. He jerked his arm out of her grip. “No,” he told her. “I want to stayâ” He started coughing and gasping for air. His raw throat, the throbbing in his head; he bent over, gripping his hands on his knees, hoping he wouldn't pass out again.
The woman took advantage of his weak moment and pulled Javier firmly across the yard. Too miserable to fight her, he stumbled toward the ambulance. He looked
over his shoulder one last time. Two men were lifting his friend onto a stretcher.
A thin black man wearing an EMT uniform helped Javier climb into the ambulance and gently placed him on a side bench. In moments, Javier was wearing a plastic mask over his mouth and was told, “Breathe easy. Relax.” The technician went on to check his pulse and blood pressure.
Javier saw the old woman sitting across from him, her face streaked with black, her dirty nightgown ragged at the hem. Someone had wrapped her in a blanket and given her slippers that looked way too big for her feet. When she saw him looking, her brown eyes filled with tears. Tears trickled down her weathered dark face. She made the sign of the cross over herself and prayed, “
El Señor es mi luz y mi salvación
.”
Witnessing this act of faith made Javier's breathing easier. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
God, please help my friend
.
J
avier's itchy feet always warned him when something was going to change. He never called himself psychic, but he could trust the itch for what it was: an annoying reminder that he had little control of his own life.
That humid August day of tenth grade orientation at St. Peter's High School, his itchy feet practically forced him up on tiptoes when he stood in the library before the Dean of Students, Mr. Roy Quintanilla. Javier pressed his heels into the carpeted floor and tried not to look surprised by the sudden irritation. He was a sophomore, back for another year in a familiar all-boys environment. Upperclassmen swore sophomores were nobodies; sophomore year was so dull that even the teachers got bored.
Why would Javier's itch start
now
when orientation day was almost over?
Mr. Q. glanced up and handed Javier a half page with columns and words in computer print. “Ãvila, here's your schedule.”
Javier looked down, scanning the paper quickly. The first-period class looked unfamiliar. “Uh, Mr. Quintanilla?”
“Yes? What!” He crossed through Javier's name on the list in front of him.
Javier hesitated. Any extra contact with the big man was scary. Roy Quintanilla had been a basketball super-star when he was a student at the school twenty years earlier. Now Mr. Q. owned the reputation of being visible and invisible at the same time, and those who crossed the man either changed their ways or filled out transfer forms.
Javier's voice squeaked slightly when he said, “Media Broadcasting. I have it first period. Sir, I didn't choose this class.”
“New elective. You're one of the lucky ones. Now move along, Ãvila,” Mr. Quintanilla answered with a wave of his hand. The line of sophomores behind Javier grumbled, coughed, and shifted around him. They all wanted to get through the line and go home.
Javier's itchy feet prickled inside his black dress shoes as he moved to a side table to pick up the sophomore supply list. He felt a rap of pencils on his shoulder and turned to see his friend Andy Cardona grinning at him. Andy always heard a beat in his head. He drummed on anything and anyone around him.
“Hey, did you get that new elective first period?” Javier asked.
“Get real! It's always band first period for us.” Andy glanced from his schedule to Javier's. “We got English, History, Chemistry, and Algebra together. That's good!”
Ignacio Gómez wandered up to where they stood. The guy was a one-man sweat machine. Since they were all in ties and long-sleeved shirts, the sweat poured down his chunky brown face in rolling drops that he wiped away with his thick fingers and swiped across his dark pants. “Andy, let's go over to the band hall and see if Mr. Henley's there. I need to talk to him.”
Javier decided to follow his friends out when someone grabbed his arm. “Javier Ãvila, here you are! I want to talk to you.”
He turned back and saw the school counselor. Brother Calvin wore his usual uniform of a white shirt and thin black tie with black slacks. Behind his back, the boys called him “Brother Calavera” because he looked like a skeleton. His long face and light blue-gray eyes seemed to disappear in his pale white skin.
“Gotta go!” Andy and Ignacio said together and quickly hustled out of the library.
Cowards!
Javier thought as his friends left him alone with the skeletal counselor. He tried to sound relaxed, even though every conversation with the man left Javier feeling irritated. “Do you need something, Brother?”
Brother Calvin released Javier's arm. “Come with me, Javier. There's someone who needs to meet you.”
If only the words had come from anyone else but a middle-aged teacher! In an all-boys school, everybody wanted “someone” to be the good-looking sister or pretty friend of a girlfriend. In this case, a new student probably needed a tour or something.
Reluctantly, Javier followed Brother Calvin out of the library and into the hallway of the main school building.
Paper banners decorated the walls above the lockers with colorful proclamations: “Go Guardians! All the way to state! Guardian football players are winners!”
Regardless of the school spirit around them, walking in the empty halls left Javier feeling uneasy. He started a conversation just to break the silence. “So, Brother, what's the mystery? Who are you taking me to meet?”
Brother Calvin pointed the way out the side door. “Saint Peter's got approved for a grant last spring that comes with a brand new program.”