Don't Call Me Hero

by Ray Villareal

  “I can be funny,” Rawly insisted. “If the material’s right.”

  Nevin took the napkin off his head and placed it on his lap. “So you’ll do it?”

  “Maybe. Depends on what you come up with.” Rawly’s face grew pensive. “So Miyoko really said that about me? That she didn’t think I could funny?”

  Nevin shrugged. “Maybe I heard her wrong. She might have said you were funny-looking.”

  Teresita brought out their food. “Mango juice on the rocks,” she said. She poured their drinks from small blue cans into glasses of ice.

  Nevin tasted it. “Hey, this stuff is good.”

  “I told you,” Rawly said. “It’s Jumex.” He pronounced it Who Mex.

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a Mexican drink. Jumex is a combination of the words jugo and mexicano, which mean Mexican juice,” Rawly explained. “They sell it in different flavors. Mango happens to be my favorite.”

  Nevin picked up the little blue can and read the label. “It looks like it says Jew Mex.” He grinned. “Hey, this is us, dude. Jumex. You know, Jew and Mexican. We’re Jumex.”

  Rawly laughed.

  “Seriously. That’s what we’ll call ourselves when we do our comedy routine. We’ll be known as Jumex.”

  Rawly took a sip of his drink. “I didn’t say I’d do the show.”

  “But you will,” Nevin said. “You don’t want Miyoko to think you’re not funny, do you?”

  That struck a raw nerve. “I can be funny,” Rawly said. “You just watch.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  On Saturday morning, Rawly walked into Mr. Mondragón’s classroom and noticed Miyoko sitting by herself in a corner.

  I’ll show her I can be funny.

  He walked up to her desk and said, “Buenos días, señorita.” He bowed and pretended to remove a hat, the way he had seen Nevin do at the mall.

  Miyoko crossed her arms and turned up her nose. “I can’t believe we have to spend Saturday morning sitting in here, Raymond. It’s not fair.”

  Rawly straightened. “Uh, my name’s Rawly.”

  “I spend forty-five minutes, five days a week, in this stupid class,” Miyoko said. “What does Mr. Mondragón think he’s going to teach me on Saturdays that he can’t teach me Monday through Friday? You tell me.”

  Rawly was taken aback. He hadn’t seen this side of Miyoko.

  “I was supposed to go to the fair with Iris and Amanda today, but my mom’s mad at me because she had to get up extra early on a Saturday to drive me to school, and now she says I can’t . . . ”

  Mr. Mondragón entered the classroom. Miyoko uttered something Rawly didn’t quite catch. He hoped he was mistaken, but it sounded as if she had used a cuss word to describe their teacher.

  After Mr. Mondragón greeted his students, he handed out packets of worksheets. Each sheet contained problems similar to the ones he had assigned during the week.

  While Mr. Mondragón wrote a list of algebra terms on the board, Rawly caught Miyoko sticking her tongue out at their teacher.

  Rawly checked the time. It was ten after nine. He guessed his mother would be driving past Corsicana by now on her way to Midway.

  He thought about Jaime sitting in his cell all week, with nothing to do, looking forward to Saturdays, when he would get to visit with his family. Rawly wished he could have gone to see him. He missed having his brother at home. But things changed forever after Jaime’s accident.

  Jaime’s accident.

  That’s what his mother always called it. It might have been an accident, but Jaime had still killed that nurse.

  On the night of his graduation, Jaime drove to Aaron’s apartment. Aaron’s parents had gone out for the evening, wanting to give their son a chance to celebrate with his friends. They placed their older son, Victor, in charge of the party.

  Jorge was there, along with Gustavo and Rudy. So, too, were five girls and three cases of beer.

  They drank and ate. They danced and watched movies.

  At around twelve-thirty, Jaime staggered out of the apartment and got in his car. He was drunk, he realized, and he probably shouldn’t be on the road. He’d be okay, though. He didn’t live that far. He’d be home in less than fifteen minutes.

  A light rain had started to fall. Jaime turned on the windshield wipers, but all they did was mix the dirt on his grimy windshield with the rain, leaving arched streaks of mud on the glass.

  As he made his way home, a green light up ahead turned yellow. Jaime gunned the gas. He didn’t want to get stuck at a red light.

  Helen Decamp, a nurse at Methodist Medical Center, had just finished her shift and was on her way home. Approaching the intersection, she slowed down for the red light. The light changed to green before she made a complete stop, so she accelerated her car.

  She never saw the Chevy Impala racing toward her.

  Jaime slammed on the brakes. His tires screamed. His car skidded on the slick street, and he crashed, almost full force. The nurse’s car flipped over twice before coming to a stop on its side.

  Jaime had always buckled up before starting his car, but he didn’t think to do so when he left the party. His head busted through the windshield, and he flew out of the car, landing twelve feet away, unconscious.

  The next thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital bed. His head was bandaged up. His jaw was broken and his mouth was wired shut. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. His mother and brother stood over him, looking downcast.

  Jaime later learned that the woman whose car he hit had died at the scene of the accident.

  After he was released from the hospital, the police charged Jaime with intoxication manslaughter.

  At the trial, a tearful Mike Decamp told the jurors, “Our lives will never be the same. My little girl will have to grow up without her mother, all because of him.” He pointed at Jaime.

  The trial ended with Jaime being found guilty. The judge in the case had been cracking down on drunk drivers. He sentenced Jaime to fifteen to twenty years in the state penitentiary. He also assessed him a ten thousand dollar fine.

  After Jaime went to prison, Mrs. Sánchez gave up her restaurant’s liquor license. She could not, in good conscience, sell alcohol after what it had done to her son.

  Tutoring class ended.

  Rawly tried to catch up with Miyoko, but he lost sight of her in a crowd of students. He spotted her a few minutes later, getting into a car with a woman he presumed was her mother. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but apparently, they were having an argument. Miyoko flailed her arms and yelled. Her mother gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.

  Finally, the car tore away from the curb, its tires squealing, and turned the corner sharply at the stop sign.

  Rawly crossed the street and made his way to Nevin’s house.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Nevin’s mother answered the door. Before greeting Rawly, she looked up at the sky and made a face. “Looks like it’s going to rain again,” she said, more to herself than to Rawly.

  “Hello, Mrs. Steinberg. Is Nevin home?” Rawly asked.

  Her eyes remained fixed on the sky a moment longer before she acknowledged him. “Yes. Hi, Rawly. Come in.”

  She led him past the living room and into the den. The mantle above the fireplace was lined with family pictures, separated by a brass menorah.

  Nevin’s mother gazed out the glass panels of the French double doors that opened into the patio. “Typical Texas weather,” she said, shaking her head. “Can you believe it? We hardly had a drop of rain all summer when we needed it the most. Now, here we are, in the middle of October, and it’s rained almost every day for the past two weeks.”

  “Is that Rawly, Mother?” Nevin called from upstairs.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Rawly answered.

  “Come on up.”

  Rawly climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to Nevin’s bedroom. The room was empty. Rawly figured Nevin was probably in the
bathroom.

  Three bookcases across from Nevin’s bed were filled with novels, reference materials, and picture books Nevin read when he was little. Mixed in with the books were Nevin’s monster toys.

  Rawly picked up a model of the endoskeleton from the Terminator series. While he studied its features, he thought he heard a scratching sound.

  He turned.

  The sound seemed to be coming from Nevin’s closet.

  Rawly placed the toy back on the shelf and listened.

  There it was again. A slow, clawing noise. Maybe it was a hanger brushing against the door. But what could be moving the hanger? A draft of air? Inside the closet?

  Rawly reached for the doorknob. The scraping sound grew louder, heavier. He recoiled. Goose bumps blossomed on his arms. He looked out the doorway. “Hey, Nevin, I’m in your room.”

  No answer.

  Scra-a-a-tch! Scra-a-a-tch! Scra-a-a-tch!

  The small hairs on the back of Rawly’s neck prickled.

  This is silly. There’s no reason to be scared. The only monsters in the room are the toys sitting on Nevin’s bookcases.

  Rawly reached for the doorknob again.

  Scra-a-a-tch! Scra-a-a-tch! Scra-a-a-tch!

  His heart palpitated.

  He turned the knob.

  Slowly, slowly.

  The door burst open.

  “Aarrgh!” A gorilla jumped out of the closet and seized Rawly by the throat.

  “Eeeyagh!” Rawly stumbled backwards and fell, still in the grips of the gorilla.

  The gorilla pulled off its mask and laughed hysterically. “Dude, you look sooo funny!” Nevin cried.

  Embarrassed, Rawly pushed him off and sat up. “What’s your problem, man?”

  Nevin caught his breath. “I don’t have a problem. You do. You don’t have a sense of humor.” He stood and stretched out his hand to help Rawly up.

  Rawly slapped it away and got up on his own. “Where’d you get that costume?”

  Nevin unzipped the gorilla outfit and slipped out of it. Underneath, he wore black pants, a white shirt, and a red tie. “It belongs to my dad. You know, he’s the PR director at the Dallas Zoo. He’s also Safari Bob, game hunter, when he makes school visits.” Nevin peered at his reflection on his dresser mirror and brushed back his hair. “He gets volunteers from the zoo to wear the costume to play his assistant, Mortimer the Gorilla.”

  Rawly seemed to recall Nevin mentioning something about that, but he had never seen the gorilla costume. “What’s with the dress shirt and tie?” he asked.

  Nevin tucked in his shirt. “My mom’s idea. She thinks wearing a tie to the store will help me pick out the right suit.”

  “Are you going with a black one?”

  “Yeah. I thought about what you said. I really do need a black suit, ’cause some old relative of mine’s always dying.”

  “So what are you planning to do with the gorilla costume? Are you going to wear it to a Halloween party or something?”

  “No, dude, it’s for you.”

  “For me?”

  “Yeah. I thought about a great skit for Open Mic Nite. See what you think.” Nevin pulled out the chair from his desk and sat down. Rawly sat on the bed across from him. “I’ll wear my dad’s Safari Bob khaki clothes and pith helmet, and you’ll wear the gorilla outfit,” Nevin said. “I’ll play a world-famous game hunter who’s caught a ferocious gorilla.”

  Rawly smiled. “Sounds like fun. Weird but fun.” Despite what he had said earlier, he was beginning to like the idea of being onstage with Nevin. And dressed up like a gorilla? It’d be a riot. He’d show Miyoko he could be funny.

  “I won’t have to memorize any lines, will I?” Rawly asked.

  “No, dude. You’re a gorilla. Gorillas can’t talk.”

  Rawly slipped on the gorilla mask and stared at himself in the mirror. “This is awesome.”

  “Remember in the movie, Young Frankenstein, where Dr. Frankenstein and the monster sang and danced to Puttin’ on the Ritz?” Nevin asked. “I thought we’d do something similar. We won’t sing, but we can work up a dance routine.”

  Rawly pulled off the mask. “Wait a minute. I don’t know how to dance.”

  “Neither do I,” Nevin said. “That’s what’ll make our skit even funnier.”

  “Okay, count me in. I’m with you,” Rawly said.

  “Of course you are,” Nevin said. “’Cause we’re a team. We’re Jumex.”

  They made their way downstairs.

  “What was all that noise up there?” Nevin’s mother asked. “You boys weren’t fighting, were you?”

  “No, Mother,” Nevin said. “Rawly was showing me some ballet movements. He says he wants to be a ballerina when he grows up.”

  “That’s nice,” Mrs. Steinberg said. “Nevin, be sure to wear your windbreaker. And take an umbrella. I don’t like the looks of those clouds.”

  “We’ll be fine, Mother.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you, honey? I would hate for you to get wet.”

  “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be okay.”

  “When you pick out your suit, button the coat to make sure it fits properly. You don’t want it too tight.”

  “I will, Mother.”

  “And if the pants are too long, ask them to alter the hem. I don’t want you dragging the pant legs.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “If it should start to rain, you call me, and I’ll go get you.”

  Nevin sighed. “Yes, Mother.”

  “And if anyone approaches you and asks if you want to buy drugs, you run away and find a security guard, you hear?” She kissed Nevin’s cheek.

  Nevin slammed the door shut behind them. “¡Ay Chihuahua! I can’t handle all that love.”

  They caught the DART bus a block away. While they rode, Nevin asked, “How was tutoring? Did the Dragon Man teach you anything?”

  Rawly groaned. “Nevin, there were times when I thought Mr. Mondragón was speaking a foreign language. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m ever going to pass algebra this year.”

  “Did you think like Batman?” Nevin asked.

  “That doesn’t work.”

  “It does for Batman.”

  “Yeah? Well, tell me this,” Rawly said. “How many times have you seen Batman do algebraic word problems?”

  Nevin grinned. “You’ve got me there, dude.”

  When they arrived at the mall, they stopped by Ghouls & More, a temporary Halloween store, to look at the costumes and decorations. The year before, Rawly and Nevin had attended a Halloween party that was held in their middle school gymnasium. Rawly wore a Captain America costume. Nevin dressed up as a “dead” M&M. He wore a yellow M&M costume with a plastic butcher knife sticking out of the top. Fake blood dripped from the knife.

  This year, North Oak Cliff High School was holding a Halloween dance party, where students were encouraged to wear costumes. Rawly and Nevin weren’t planning to go to the party, since neither one knew how to dance.

  Rawly stared at the grotesque rubber masks hanging behind the counter. He thought about buying one but decided against it. He probably wouldn’t be able to wear it anywhere, anyway. This year, Halloween fell on a Wednesday, and there was no way he was going to get to go trick-or-treating. Because of the enchilada dinner special, Wednesday was La Chichen-Itza’s busiest day of the week. Like it or not, Rawly would be spending Halloween night cleaning tables.

  What if he wore one of those masks while he worked? Maybe the evil clown one with the vampire teeth and the large bloody gash splitting his forehead down the middle. Or the zombie mask with the rotting flesh and an eyeball hanging from its socket. Nah. Rawly wouldn’t have the mask on more than two minutes before his mother would make him take it off.

  Nevin walked up to him, holding a life-size rubber skeleton. “Dude, check this out.” He covered the skeleton’s eyes with its hands, and then quickly pulled them away. “Peek-a-boo!” He did it again. “Peek-a-boo!”<
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  “Yeah, that’s real funny,” Rawly said, rolling his eyes. “Listen, Nevin, you go on to Penney’s without me. I’ll wait for you here.”

  Nevin tossed the skeleton on a table. “No, dude. I need your help picking out my suit. That’s why I brought you with me.”

  “I can’t go back inside Penney’s,” Rawly said. “That clerk might be watching out for me. Thanks to you, she thinks I’m a weirdo. Besides, you already know what you’re going to buy.”

  “Come on, Rawls,” Nevin said. “That old scarecrow works in the ladies’ department. She’s probably not even here today. And even if she is, she won’t see you.” He smiled impishly and added, “As long as you stay away from the ladies’ underwear.”

  “Look, Nevin, if you’re going to start with that,” Rawly fumed, “I’ll get on the bus right now and go back home.”

  “Aw, chill out, dude,” Nevin said. “I’m just yanking your chain. Come on. Let’s go buy a suit.”

  When they entered Penney’s, Rawly looked around for the old saleswoman, but he didn’t see her.

  Nevin rummaged through a rack of suits until he found one his size. He grabbed a black Stafford suit and went inside the dressing room to try it on.

  When he came out, he stood in front of a three-panel mirror and admired himself. “What do you think?”

  “Not bad,” Rawly said. “You look like you’re ready for the Easter Parade.”

  Nevin frowned. “We don’t celebrate Easter, Rawls. You know that.”

  “Chill out, dude,” Rawly said. “I’m just yanking your chain.”

  Rawly didn’t mean to make fun of Nevin’s religion. That comment came out of nowhere. It was something his güelo González used to say to him whenever Rawly got all dressed up.

  Nevin buttoned his coat and strolled around the men’s section, trying to get a feel for his new clothes.

  While he stared at himself in a mirror hanging on one of the columns, a chubby, middle-aged woman walked up to him and said, “Excuse me, young man. Do you work here?”

  Nevin covered the price tag on the coat’s sleeve. “Why, yes, I do. I am one of the assistant managers. How may I help you?”