Her Passionate Hero

by Caitlyn O'Leary

  “If you ever touch her again, you’ll answer to me.”

  Lupita looked scared, Heather smirked. It made no sense to Aliana. None of the children’s actions that day made any sense. Not her friend, Heather, not Lupita and Jose, not even her rescuer. She stood there trying to stop crying. When she got back to school, she ran to the bathroom and wiped her face. When teacher asked her what was wrong, she said she fell down. Even the teacher’s lack of interest made no sense. Aliana vowed to never do anything to bring attention to herself again. Too bad her actions had nothing to do with being a target for bullies.

  ***

  Aliana shut off the shower and stepped out. It had been a long time since she had thought about her school days. Her hands trembled as she pulled on her soft pajamas. She hated remembering how powerless she had been. The memory must have surfaced because of how Mateo had made her feel.

  She considered again whether she was doing the right thing not to go to the police. To begin with she wanted to save Nicolas, but when they threatened her mother, all of her faith in authority left her. If Mateo had been able to knock out her security cameras and know exactly what room her mother was in? She shuddered at his power. No, she couldn’t risk it.

  She got into bed and shoved the pillows behind her back. She crossed her legs and put her hands on her knees. She breathed in and held her breath for a count of three, then carefully released it for a count of ten. She did that twenty times until she finally felt herself begin to calm. She could stop counting her breaths and just ease into a state of being.

  When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t surprised to find her face was tight from dried tears, but she felt more relaxed. Not good exactly, but more centered. In control, that was it, she felt more in control. She uncurled and pushed the pillows away and turned out the light. It was a mistake.

  She got up and went over to the plug on the wall and switched on her sunflower nightlight. She went back to her bed and wrapped her down comforter around herself and burrowed in. She stared at her nightlight until she finally slept.

  ***

  “What really happened to you?” Lottie hissed.

  They were sitting in the back corner of the teacher’s lounge eating lunch. Aliana was tired of all the attention she had garnered that morning.

  “I was in a car accident.”

  “Your car was fine. I checked it out.” Carlotta Rodriguez peeled off the film from her microwaved diet meal and grimaced.

  “I was in a friend’s car,” Aliana whispered back.

  “You don’t have any other friends but me. You’re anti-social, remember?”

  It was true.

  “A new neighbor moved in,” Aliana told her. “We were going to lunch, and she wrecked the car.”

  “You’re such a bad liar.”

  It was getting frustrating that everybody doubted her word these days. She needed to work on her ability to deceive.

  “Oh, my God, you’re trying to think of ways to become a better liar!” Lottie hissed again. “Stop it. I’ll tell your grandmother on you. By the way, that would have been a much better lie. You should have said she’d been driving.”

  “I had her license revoked a couple of years ago, remember?” She’d felt terrible, because they ended up having to sell her grandfather’s car as well, and that was what hurt her Babička the most.

  Lottie grimaced. “I forgot sweetie.” She put her hand on top of Aliana’s. “I remember how tough that was for you. But she had a good run, she’s damn near eighty. Now tell me what really happened.”

  “I can’t.”

  Aliana watched as Lottie morphed from her friend into the skilled school counselor who nurtured almost two thousand teenagers. Not only was Carlotta Rodriguez a counselor, she was a psychiatric social worker who provided both counseling and mental health services to the students at Bertrum High School. Since they were in the middle of Eastmont, which was rife with gangs, many of the students had families and friends who had been victims, or the students themselves had been victims of violence. When Carlotta had transferred to the school three years ago, she’d been a godsend. Except for those times when she decided to put Aliana under her psychiatric microscope. Aliana preferred it when they remained in the best friend category.

  “We’re going out to dinner,” Lottie proclaimed.

  “I have work to do.”

  “I’m sick of dieting.” She held up a piece of something that resembled beef on her fork and waved it in front of Aliana’s nose. “You know you’ve been telling me I need to kick this diet to the curb. Now’s your chance to help me splurge,” Lottie wheedled. Damn, the woman knew how to push her buttons. “You need to eat more too. You keep saying you want to put on some weight.”

  “Quit using your voodoo tactics on me.”

  “Comes with being my friend. I’m good for you.” Lottie paused and gave her a kind smile. “Come on, you know I’ve never delved too deep.”

  That was true.

  “Fine, we’ll go to dinner,” Aliana relented.

  “Great.”

  “Now, I need to get back to my office.”

  “You didn’t eat anything,” Lottie protested.

  “Please, don’t nag. I would have, but…” she touched her throat. “It hurts to swallow.”

  “What did the doctor say about that?” Aliana looked down at her barely touched yogurt. “Dammit. You didn’t discuss this with them, did you?”

  Two of the teachers looked curiously at them as they left the room.

  “Would you keep your voice down?” Aliana requested.

  “No, I won’t. You either go to the nurse’s office, or we go to urgent care after school today. Those are your choices.”

  She didn’t like either one of them. She glared at her friend. They were no longer best friends. Maybe they weren’t even going to be friends anymore. She didn’t need friends, did she?

  “Stop having conversations in your head,” Lottie sighed with exasperation. “Just give in.”

  “I wasn’t―”

  Lottie raised her eyebrow, and Aliana laughed.

  She felt her purse vibrate. It must important, nobody called her during school hours unless it was an emergency. She pulled her phone out of her purse. It was an unknown number. She answered.

  “Aliana?”

  “This is Aliana Novak. May I help you?”

  “This is Ernie Robinson. I was calling to find out how you’re doing.”

  “I’m.” Aliana swallowed to clear her throat, and it went down the wrong way, and she started coughing. She couldn’t believe he was calling her, and she couldn’t seem to stop coughing. Lottie was looking at her with concern.

  “Aliana? What’s going on? Are you alright? Do you need to go back to the hospital?” Ernie asked.

  “No,” she gasped out. This was ridiculous. “I’m fine,” she wheezed, then coughed again.

  “Aliana, you don’t sound fine.” He was speaking loudly enough to be heard over her coughing, Lottie heard him.

  “Give me the phone.” She held out her hand. Aliana jerked it away from her friend. The last thing she needed was these two talking.

  “Who’s that?” Ernie asked. “Let me talk to her,” he demanded.

  “I heard that,” Lottie reached over the table, somehow managing not to plant her right breast into the blackberry yogurt while still grabbing the phone out of her hand.

  “How did you do that?” Aliana gasped.

  “Who is this?” Lottie asked.

  “I’m Ernie Robison. I’m with the L.A.P.D.,” Aliana heard him say.

  “How do you do? I’m Aliana’s best friend. She didn’t tell me you would be calling,” Lottie said sweetly. Aliana got up from the chair and went over to the vending machine, coughing the entire way. Her water bottle was empty. She had no choice but to get something to drink to stop this sudden fit. She felt all eyes in the lounge on her, the last thing she wanted.

  Scratch that. Her eyes narrowed as she saw Lottie all comfort
able with her phone. Sakra, that was the last thing she needed. She pinched the bridge of her nose as she sat back down.

  “No, Ernie, she’s not all right. We’re going to the urgent care right after school. I’m worried about her trachea or her larynx.”

  There was a pause. Then there it was. She hit him with it. Ernie would be shutting down.

  “I’m a psychiatrist. I went to medical school.” The conversation would be over with.

  Lottie listened, then burst out laughing. “Yep, that’s me, right down to a tee. If they say her throat is just swollen and nothing is really damaged, do you want to join us for some wedding soup and enchiladas? Girlfriend and I need to eat.”

  Again, there was a pause.

  “Great. I’ll call you.” Lottie handed back her phone. “Is he as hot as he sounds?”

  “Huh?”

  “Ernie? He sounds dreamy.”

  “Dreamy? Did you just say dreamy? You’ve been spending too much time with the students.” Aliana closed the lid on her yogurt, gathered up her banana and threw them into her paper sack.

  “I’ll be in your office at three-thirty. I’ll make an appointment for you at four.”

  “That’s too early. I have work to do.” Lottie followed her to the trash can and out the door.

  “Don’t make me talk to Roger. He’ll back me up.”

  She would too, Lottie would definitely go to the principal.

  “Fine,” Aliana sighed. “I’ll go to urgent care. I’ll give you a call when I get home and tell you how it went.”

  Lottie smiled and shook her head. Aliana knew that gesture. She wasn’t getting out of having a shadow at her appointment.

  “I’ll see you at three-thirty.”

  ***

  Not again. This was the third time she’d been called to the music room, and she was sick of it. This was Breanne Clarke’s first year on the job, and she was going through a trial by fire. She was a gifted music teacher, but unfortunately, there were three senior boys in the class who were taking it for easy credit to graduate. They were unmanageable, and Ms. Clark didn’t have the slightest clue how to discipline them. Today had to take the cake.

  Aliana wrenched open one of the double doors, and it swung open and slammed. Holy hell, it had a broken hinge. Well, fine, she figured it didn’t hurt her reputation to make an entrance as all eyes were riveted to her, including the three senior boys.

  “You three. Here. Now.” She pointed at Lucky, Carlos, and David and pointed to the floor in front of her.

  “Who?” Lucky asked.

  “You make me repeat myself, this will escalate from suspension to expulsion.”

  David, who was the weak link, stood up and gave a pleading look to his compatriots. Carlos stood up. Lucky put his feet up on the back seat of the girl in front of him. She shoved them off. “Fucker,” Aliana heard her mumble.

  “She’s bluffing,” Lucky said to his friends. “Sit your asses down.”

  “Lucky, congratulations. You’ve hit the suspension trifecta. This time I’ll call your dad over at the plant.”

  He sat up in his chair. “You can’t suspend me. You haven’t heard my side.”

  “I can. I am. You’re out. David and Carlos quit dragging your feet.”

  She watched as they double-timed it down the stairs to stand in front of her. “Tell me what happened.”

  Carlos got a sly look on his face and looked up at a stunned Lucky. “It was his idea,” he said, pointing to his friend.

  “Isn’t that convenient,” Aliana drawled. “Tell me the truth.” She used her voice like a whip. “Who put the animal excrement in the tubas?”

  “What?” David said.

  There was murmured laughter in the music room. Breanne turned red.

  “Yeah, I don’t understand?” Carlos said innocently.

  “Feces?” Breanne said helpfully.

  “Breanne, they understand the word. They’re the ones who filled the tubas full of dogshit. Now they will clean them out, then pay for a professional cleaning, and David and Carlos will be suspended for three days. Meanwhile, Mr. Unlucky will be suspended for a week, and kicked out of your class permanently with a failing grade.”

  “You can’t do that. I need this grade, otherwise, I have to go to summer school,” Lucky whined.

  “Should have done what I asked you to, now shouldn’t you? Lucky, do you want to try for expulsion, or are you going to kindly join your friends down here with me, and we all take a nice walk to my office?”

  She watched as the student got up and walked toward her. He looked like he had been poked with a cattle prod.

  Good, her job was done.

  ***

  So bright and shiny, how could he be related to Mateo? Nicolas Garcia stood in front of her, excitedly waving his essay in front of her.

  “Ms. Dunbar submitted it to the Library of Congress six months ago for their literacy contest! It’s a finalist,” he cried. There were tears in his eyes. Nicolas was big at fifteen, already bigger than his brother and a lot smarter. Why couldn’t Mateo leave him alone? She hated that Nicolas’ brother was so intent on dragging him into Los Demonios. She hated that name. She hated their logo, even more, the picture of the demon was so evil looking, it made her shiver every time she saw it, not that she would ever admit it.

  “Nicolas, that is excellent.”

  “I think you had something to do with it,” he said astutely.

  “The selection was made on merit,” she assured him.

  “I mean the contest. They didn’t do that last year. It was your idea to have them submit our papers, wasn’t it?”

  Yep, smart. His smile faded.

  “What happened to you, Ms. Novak? Why are you wearing a bandage?”

  She looked him straight in the eye, and said, “I was in a small car wreck this weekend.”

  He looked at her for three heartbeats, then asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Of course, it was a minor accident. The doctor said I was fine.”

  His brown eyes darkened. “The school can’t afford to have something happen to you, you need to take care of yourself.”

  “We were talking about you,” she smiled. “Tell me more about your paper.”

  “It was on George Orwell. I had to write him a letter and tell him how his book, Animal Farm, impacted me.”

  Aliana had already read his paper, Glenda had shown it to her before submitting it.

  He paused, clearly uncomfortable. He looked behind him, making sure no one was outside her door who could overhear him.

  “Do you want to shut the door?”

  He stood up straight. “No,” he said, all bravado.

  “So, tell me about your paper. I’m excited to hear about,” her emphasis hear. She was dying to hear his take on why he had written it.

  He leaned in. “Animal Farm talks about how fear is used to make people conform. It’s kind of what Los Demonios does. There are a lot of the same dynamics. You know?”

  Boy, did she know. She nodded her head.

  “You have to shake off the shackles. I want to be like Snowball.”

  “What do you mean? You want to be like the pig who started the revolution on the farm?”

  “Exactly. A lot of the kids who join the gang do it because they want to be part of something, they do it for a sense of brotherhood. They don’t realize just how evil it is before it’s too late. That’s exactly like what happens in the book.” She knew she had never been this zealous about anything, not even her poetry or music.

  She took out voice Number Thirteen, the Kind, Firm and Fair voice. “Nicolas, you can’t start a revolution. Your only task is to be a kid, do well in school, and get the hell out of the gang. Got it?”

  “Snowball was scared too, but he had to do it, Ms. Novak. You do the right thing all the time. Everybody heard what you did in the music room. You were righteous. I’m doing the same thing. With some help.”

  “Nicolas, what you’re suggesting is to
o dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry,” he gave her a pitying look, “I was born into it Ms. Novak.”

  “But you’re not part of it.”

  “Of course, I am. My family is. It’s all around me. I’m one of them.”

  “What do you mean your family? I thought it was just your brother?”

  “Never mind. I just try to keep my head down. I hope you’re right, and I get to leave and go to college.”

  If it took her dying breath, he’d get out of here, she swore to herself.

  “With your abilities, of course, you will, Nicolas.”

  “Do you think this contest will help?”

  “It helped me. Did I tell you I went to school in Boyle Heights?”

  “No way!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were all that. You were one of us? A homegirl?”

  “Not exactly a homegirl,” she smiled. “I talked with an accent, was overweight, and dressed funny, I hardly fit in.”

  “You sure came a long way,” he said with admiration.

  “Thank you.”

  “Was it tough for you?” he asked. Smart and perceptive.

  “It wasn’t easy.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago. Still―” She waved her hand. “We’re talking about you. I just wanted you to know there is a way out. I won a national contest in poetry. People noticed me, and I got a scholarship. It’s possible, Nicolas. Never give up on your dreams. Okay?”

  He raked his fingers through his black hair. She had a flashback to another boy who used to do the exact same thing. She slammed that door shut. Then he flashed a grin, and the door flew open and pain made her bleed. Nicolas even had dimples.

  “I won’t. I’ll never give up on my dreams.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. But Ms. Novak, there are some others who are worthy of dreams too. I have to do my best to save them.”

  “No,” she said vehemently. “Nicolas, it’s too dangerous.”

  “I can’t live with myself if I don’t try. Don’t worry about me, I know what I’m doing. Remember this has been my life forever.” He looked down at his paper, and his grin exploded. “Thanks again.”