No Fear

by Anne Schraff

  No

  FEAR

  A N N E S C H R A F F

  A Boy Called Twister Outrunning the Darkness

  Dark Secrets The Quality of Mercy

  Deliverance Shadows of Guilt

  The Fairest The Stranger

  If You Really Loved Me Time of Courage

  Leap of Faith To Be a Man

  Like a Broken Doll To Catch a Dream

  The Lost The Unforgiven

  No Fear The Water’s Edge

  One of Us Wildflower

  © 2011 by Saddleback Educational Publishing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61651-268-2

  ISBN-10: 1-61651-268-7

  eBook: 978-1-60291-993-8

  16 15 14 13 12 1 2 3 4 5

  TABLE OF CONTENT

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ernesto Sandoval, a sixteen-year-old junior at Cesar Chavez High School, was talking to the girl he desperately wanted to date, Naomi Martinez. They were standing by the colorful mural in front of the school. Naomi had just broken up with her longtime boyfriend, Clay Aguirre. Ernesto was slowly, awkwardly trying to make his move. It was Friday, and Ernesto needed to ask Naomi out before the weekend.

  “This guy, Oscar Perez,” Ernesto was explaining, “I heard him sing at a party at Carmen’s house, and he was great. I thought maybe you’d enjoy—” Ernesto stopped talking because Naomi had stopped listening. She had turned and was watching Clay Aguirre arrive on campus. A cold chill went through Ernesto’s body. She still loved Clay.

  Naomi and Clay had been friends for a long time, ever since elementary school. They had dated seriously in high school. Clay had often been rude to Naomi, but she put up with his attitude because she loved him. Then they had had a big argument, and Clay punched Naomi in the face. She broke up with him then and there. Since then, he’d gone missing from Chavez, but this morning he was coming back to classes.

  Clay’s dark eyes fixed immediately on Naomi and Ernesto. Before the couple had broken up, Clay had been jealous of Ernesto. He’d feared Ernesto had his eye on Naomi, and he was right. Ever since coming here from Los Angeles with his family a few months ago, Ernesto had been drawn to the beautiful violet-eyed girl with the shiny black hair. In addition to being lovely, she was sweet and kind. Ernesto thought about her a lot, and he fantasized from the start about their being together someday. Once Clay had become so angry that he cornered Ernesto on a remote campus spot to warn him to stay away from Naomi.

  “So,” Naomi interrupted Ernesto’s thoughts, “what were you saying about that singer, Ernie?”

  Ernesto was going to suggest that he and Naomi go to the park on Sunday where Oscar Perez was giving a concert. There would be a lot of little bands and food booths as well. But the sight of Clay had made him tongue-tied. “Uh, I was just saying,” he stammered, trying to ignore Clay, who was standing a few yards away glaring at him. “This dude, Oscar Perez, is gonna sing at the park Sunday, and it’s sort of a festival. He’s real good, and the food’ll be good too. I just thought if you had nothing better to do, we could go over there, you know, and hear some hot music. We could have some tacos and chips and salsa too.”

  “That sounds nice, Ernie,” Naomi surprised him by saying. But even though she was smiling, Ernesto could tell she was tense. She had loved Clay Aguirre for a long time, and maybe she still did. When Clay struck her, she was shocked and angry. She told him she never wanted to see him again. He apologized and pleaded with her to forgive him, but she stood her ground, at least at the time.

  Ernesto hoped against hope she would continue to stand her ground. Yes, Ernesto hoped to get close to her. But even if she never wanted to date him, he cared for her as a human being. He hoped she knew that she owed it to herself to end the relationship with Clay. When a guy hits a girl, Ernesto believed, he’s saying that this is the beginning, not the end, of a pattern of abuse. Ernesto cared about Naomi, and he didn’t want her going down that frightening, painful road. He didn’t want her hurt again. She didn’t deserve to be hurt. No girl did.

  “Okay then,” Ernesto confirmed. “I’ll pick you up about two in the afternoon.”

  “Good,” she agreed.

  Ordinarily, Ernesto would have been on top of the world. Naomi Martinez had actually agreed to go someplace with him! It was a date—exactly what he’d been hoping for and dreaming of. But seeing Clay Aguirre, with pure hatred boiling like volcanic lava from his eyes, stole the joy from the moment.

  Before Naomi started walking toward English, she turned briefly in Clay’s direction. “Hi Clay,” she called. “I’m glad you’re back in school.” Then she walked on.

  She was determined to be polite to him. She didn’t hate him. She didn’t think she could ever hate him, even though he had hurt her deeply. The black eye he gave her had hurt a lot, but the wound in her heart was much deeper and more painful. She had given her heart to him, and she had trusted him. She had never thought he would hit her, and, when he did, he broke her heart. All her dreams about their future together crashed to her feet like shattered crystal. All the wonderful memories of their times together mocked her now.

  When Naomi was out of sight, Ernesto started for Ms. Hunt’s English class. They were starting to study Oedipus Rex in the drama unit. It was a Greek tragedy, a horrible tale of human suffering, shame, and guilt.

  “It was all your fault, you know, Sandoval!” Behind Ernesto, Clay’s sharp voice penetrated the warm autumn air like a knife.

  Ernesto tried to ignore him. But the other boy came up alongside him and spun around to face him. “You messed up the best thing I ever had,” Clay Aguirre accused him face to face. “I love Naomi so much. I always loved her. But that night when she was saying how ripped you looked, one thing led to another. I got so mad. I knew you were trying to take her from me. I was just crazy with fear that you’d succeed, Sandoval. I don’t know why I hit her. I never hit her before. I never would again. But she took it so hard. She dumped me, man.”

  Ernesto tried to be reasonable. “Aguirre, it wasn’t my fault. It was your fault. It’s an awful thing for a guy to hit a girl. You did it, man. It had nothing to do with me.”

  “Now you’re movin’ in on her, just like you wanted,” Clay snarled bitterly. His voice was raspy with rage. “She’s weak and sad. She’s vulnerable, easy pickin’s for a nobody like you. She’d never go for a wimpy jerk like you if she was herself.”

  Ernesto pushed past him, walked on, and joined a crowd of students. In the group were his best friend, Abel Ruiz, and two guys from his track team, Julio Avila and Jorge Aguilar.

  “I see old Aguirre is back,” Abel noted with a shudder. “Be careful, man. Better steer clear of Naomi for a while. She’s poison, dude, with that creep on the prowl.”

  “I’m not gonna let fear rule my life,” Ernesto declared, showing more bravado than he felt. As the group moved toward the school building, Ernesto recalled a incident of just a few weeks ago in the barrio. A gangbanger nicknamed Coyote shot and killed his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend. Coyote was so angry when his girlfriend ditched him for another guy that he killed the new guy, Tommy Alvarado. The gangbanger stalked Yvette Ozono to her own sixteenth birthday party and took down Tommy right in front of her. That story was in the back of Ernesto’s mind, but he di
dn’t really think Clay Aguirre was that dangerous.

  “Me and Naomi are going to a festival in the park on Sunday,” Ernesto announced, as he and Abel entered the building. “This guy Oscar Perez is performing, and he’s a blast.”

  “Oh man!”Abel moaned. “You’re playin’ with fire, dude.”

  They reached Ms. Hunt’s classroom. Naomi was already at her desk. Ernesto walked in and sat down, and then he saw Clay slip in the back door. Ernesto could feel the boy’s hostile gaze boring into his skull. But Ernesto made up his mind he’d just ignore Clay.

  Clay wasn’t a good student. Now he had such a low grade point average that he’d lost his eligibility to play football, which he loved. He was at a really low place in his life. He couldn’t play football, and he’d lost his girlfriend. Ernesto didn’t feel sorry for him, though, because he’d brought it all on himself. Still, the guy had to be pretty torn up.

  Toward lunchtime that day, Ernesto and Abel were looking for someplace to eat.

  “Hey Ernie,” Carmen Ibarra yelled. “You wanna each lunch with us?” She was sitting with Naomi and Yvette Ozono.

  Ernesto’s father, Luis Sandoval, taught history at Chavez High. He tried very hard to teach well and to influence his students to stay and graduate. But he also sometimes walked out into the barrio in the late afternoons and evenings and talked to dropouts, urging them to return to school. One of them was Yvette Ozono, who was with Naomi and Carmen Ibarra at lunchtime. Ernesto’s father knew how insecure Yvette would be returning to school. So he enlisted two of his best and kindest students, Naomi and Carmen, to help her through the first days.

  “Sure!” Ernesto called back. “Abel and I’ll be right over.”

  The five of them sat down with their lunches under the eucalyptus trees. Yvette then looked at Ernesto and said, “I remember you. You were at Tommy’s funeral with your father.”

  “That’s right, Yvette,” Ernesto acknowledged with a smile. “I’m so glad to see you back in school. There’s nothing out there for kids who don’t have a high school diploma. I mean, I got a little job at the pizzeria. But they won’t even hire a kid there if you can’t prove that you’re still in school. No dropouts allowed, you know?”

  “Yeah,” Yvette affirmed, “that’s what Mr. Sandoval told me. But it’s scary coming back. My old boyfriend—Coyote—he talked me into dropping out. He kind of controlled me. I did everything he asked so he wouldn’t get mad.” A look of deep sadness passed through the girl’s eyes like a shadow. “I thought Coyote loved me, even though he wasn’t nice to me. I never knew what it was like to have a boyfriend who treated me with respect, you know, not until I met Tommy. And then . . .”

  Naomi reached over and put her arm around Yvette’s thin shoulders. Ernesto was impressed with her kindness. That was one of the things about her he found most endearing. Naomi was beautiful, and she wore the latest fashions. But her clothing didn’t define her, as it did with some pretty, stylish girls. Naomi really cared about other people. “You’ll be okay, Yvette,” she said. “Tommy is in a better place now, and he wants you to have a good life.”

  “Yeah,” Carmen chimed in. “Don’t let the creeps win, my father always says. You’ll have to meet my father sometime, Yvette. His name is Emilio Zapata Ibarra. When we have a party, he wears a plastic badge like a sheriff and a big hat. He can’t stand the gangbangers and the dopers. He’s a big guy and he goes after them. So they don’t hang around our street, Nuthatch Lane, so much anymore.”

  A smile came to Yvette’s face. If anybody could make a person smile, she could. Most of the time that Ernesto had seen Yvette, she looked inexpressibly sad. Now, with a smile, she looked lovely.

  “You really live on Nuthatch Lane?” Yvette asked, giggling a little.

  “Yeah,” Carmen affirmed. “All the streets around here are named for birds. The guys who laid out the tracts thought that’d be a cute idea. I don’t think I ever saw a nuthatch around here, though.”

  “I live on Bluebird Street,” Naomi added, “but I never saw a bluebird there. All I see are big crows.”

  “We live on Starling Street,” Yvette responded. “I don’t know if I ever saw one of those.”

  They all laughed. Ernesto could see that Yvette was relaxing, becoming one of the gang. Dad’s plan to make her feel at home was working.

  Ernesto was finishing his sandwich. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clay Aguirre standing about a hundred feet away. He was standing by the vending machine. Maybe he was just trying to pick up something for lunch, but Ernesto thought he was there an awfully long time. Ernesto didn’t want to turn and look straight at him. But he had the uncomfortable feeling that Aguirre was staring at Naomi.

  “He’s watching us,” Abel remarked, knowing exactly what was going through Ernesto’s mind. “He’s watching you especially, Naomi.”

  “Oh, don’t pay any attention to him,” Naomi protested, but her voice shook a little. “He’s having a hard time with this, but he’ll get over it. I mean, you know, we were together for a long time.”

  Yvette looked up abruptly. A look of terror appeared in her eyes. “Naomi,” she stammered, “di-did you just break up with your boyfriend?” She was visibly shaken. Ernesto knew what was going through the girl’s mind—her relationship with Coyote and where that led. Coyote had been controlling and dangerous. He stalked Yvette after the breakup. When he saw her with another guy, he snapped and became a killer.

  “Yeah,” Naomi acknowledged, trying to appear very casual. “Clay and I have been close, but I decided to move on.”

  Ernesto and Abel exchanged worried looks. Yvette glanced over to the vending machine where Clay still stood, looking over in their direction. “He looks. .. mean,” Yvette commented nervously.

  “He’s not,” Naomi assured her. “He just wants his own way.” Her voice faltered. Ernesto wondered whether she was actually scared of Clay or rethinking breaking up with him. He couldn’t tell, but she looked unhappy.

  The bell rang, and they all moved on to their classes.

  When Ernesto took a quick look over at the vending machine, Aguirre was gone. Ernesto breathed a sigh of relief. Aguirre just had to face reality. He had to get over Naomi. He’d blown it. He had to know in his heart that he had lost her through his own fault.

  After classes that day, Ernesto noticed Naomi starting to walk home. He had his Volvo in the parking lot, and he hailed her. “Want a ride home, Naomi?”

  Naomi shrugged. “I was going to walk home. It’s a nice day. But why not?” She walked toward him.

  They walked to the parking lot and Clay Aguirre was nowhere to be seen.

  Clay was a good-looking guy—better looking than Ernesto, or so Ernesto thought. “I’m on the skinny side,” Ernesto was thinking as he walked with Naomi. “For sure, Clay has a better build. I have to say I envy him when the chicks look in his direction a lot. Ah, a guy as handsome as Clay’ll soon hook up with another girl. He won’t have any problems finding one. Then Naomi’ll be completely free. Maybe Clay even learned something in all this. You can’t treat a girl badly man. Maybe he’ll treat the next girl better. Naomi’s put up with an awful lot of rudeness over the years.”

  As they turned down Bluebird Street, Naomi interrupted his thoughts. “What’s that?”

  “Some kind of van in your driveway, Naomi. You expecting a delivery?” Ernesto asked.

  “Not that I know of,” she said.

  They got out of the Volvo and walked to the door. They could see Mrs. Martinez, Naomi’s mother, holding a huge bouquet. She was smiling and saying, “Flowers! We got flowers! A dozen red roses!”

  For just a second, Linda Martinez thought the roses were for her. Felix, her husband, was not a very sentimental man. But she’d just had a birthday, and he hadn’t made anything of it. Maybe he remembered, she hoped. Maybe these roses were a belated birthday present.

  Brutus, the family’s pit bull, was still barking at the delivery truck as it left the driveway. Mr
s. Martinez, who used to be terrified of the dog, now commanded, “Hush up, Brutus. Don’t go on so. You don’t bark at somebody bringing roses. Oh, aren’t they beautiful?”

  Naomi smiled at her mother. Mom usually had a hard time with Dad, and a little gesture of love and appreciation from him was a rarity. Ernesto thought of the many times his own father brought home flowers or candy or even a little piece of jewelry for Mom—for no reason at all. His only reason was that he remembered how much he loved her. His presents always delighted Mom, and Ernesto loved his father for bringing them home.

  Mrs. Martinez fumbled for the note in the box of flowers. She was so nervous she couldn’t find it. “Why do they hide the notes?” she laughed. Her face was flushed. Even though she was in her forties, she looked almost schoolgirlish in her excitement.

  “Who’s there?” Felix Martinez yelled from inside the house. “Who’s at the door? Linda, you said you were making me a cup of coffee. Where the devil is it? What are you doing at the door?” He sounded even angrier than usual.

  Then the little card tumbled out from the red roses. It fell on the doorstep, and Linda Martinez stooped to pick it up with trembling hands. In her eagerness, she almost scratched herself on one of the rose thorns.

  The smile that had been on her face vanished in an instant. “Oh!” she said in a faint voice. “Naomi, the roses are for you.” As an afterthought, she forced a thin smile. “Somebody sent you roses.”

  “You gonna spend the whole day out there?” Mr. Martinez yelled. “Do I need to go down to the fast-food joint for a cup of coffee? A man works hard all day, and he can’t even get his wife to make him a cup of coffee!”

  “I’m coming, Felix,” Linda Martinez responded, going into the house with Brutus at her heels.

  Naomi took the card. She recognized Clay Aguirre’s handwriting.

  Babe, please forgive me for what I did. I swear to you nothing like that will ever happen again. I miss you so much, Naomi. I can’t sleep, and I can’t eat. I don’t want to lose you, Naomi. I’m hurting, babe. You won’t return my calls. Just call me and let’s talk. We can work this out. Call me. I love you, Clay.”