Don't Call Me Hero

by Ray Villareal

  Rawly gawked at her in disbelief. “Mom, don’t you understand? She was drowning! The police and the paramedics hadn’t arrived yet. There was no one else who could help her.”

  She cracked her knuckles again. “I know. It’s just that after what happened to Jaime . . . Rawly, I can’t lose you, too.”

  “Mom, I’m fine. I think it was all that excitement that got to me, but I’m okay.”

  “So who was this woman you saved?” she asked, changing her tone. “Did you get her name?”

  “Yeah, her name’s Nicolette Demetrius.”

  “Demetrius?” Rawly’s mother ran the name through her mind. “Not of the diamond jeweler’s Demetrius family, is she?”

  “I don’t know. I remembered her name because she said it several times—to the cop, to the paramedics and to the reporter. Oh, yeah, there’s going to be a story about me on the Channel 12 ten o’clock news.”

  “Channel 12?” The words made Rawly’s mother cringe.

  While Rawly rested, his mother opened a cabinet door and took out a red and yellow T-shirt for him to wear. The shirt, which bore the restaurant’s logo, was left over from a promotion she had held several years ago. Rawly had left his blue shirt at Winnetka Creek, and his T-shirt was ripped and smeared with mud.

  After his mother went back to work, Rawly called Nevin. He hoped Nevin wouldn’t be mad after the way he had treated him at school.

  “Dude, are you telling me you saved Nikki Demetrius’s life?”

  “She said her name was Nicolette.”

  “No, dude. It’s Nikki. Don’t you know who she is?”

  “No.”

  “Wait a minute. What does she look like?”

  Rawly described her.

  “Dude, what planet have you been living on?” Nevin asked. “Nikki Demetrius is a famous fashion model. Her face is always on the covers of those girl magazines.”

  Rawly chuckled. “How would you know what’s in those magazines? Is that the kind of stuff you read?”

  “No, but my mom and my sister do. I’ll bet you a dollar it’s her.”

  “I don’t think it’s the same person,” Rawly said. “I mean, this woman was kind of pretty, but she didn’t look like a model.”

  “Of course she didn’t,” Nevin said, “not with her nearly drowning and bleeding and stuff. But how many women are there named Nikki Demetrius?”

  “She called herself Nicolette,” Rawly said, still unconvinced they were talking about the same person. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

  After the restaurant closed, Rawly and his mother and all the restaurant employees gathered around the television set that hung behind what used to be the bar and watched the Channel 12 News.

  Brent Edwards, the evening anchorman, opened the broadcast with Rawly’s rescue story. Beside him was a superimposed double-panel screen. The left side of the screen had a picture of the late actor, Christopher Reeve, as Clark Kent, running, ripping open his white shirt and revealing his blue Superman costume underneath. The opposite panel showed Rawly Sánchez, running, ripping open his blue shirt and revealing his white T-shirt underneath.

  “Hey, look at that,” Fredo said. “It’s Rawly.”

  Rawly’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe it. He looked like a superhero!

  “A daring and dramatic rescue took place earlier today after a white Mercedes Benz skidded off the road at the intersection of Dryer and Bellmonte and plunged into the rising waters of Winnetka Creek in Oak Cliff,” the anchorman reported. “Did I say a daring and dramatic rescue?” He flashed a toothy grin. “Let’s call it a super one. Here’s Delia Franco to explain.”

  When Delia Franco’s face appeared on TV, the restaurant workers booed.

  “Shh! I want to hear,” Mrs. Sánchez said.

  “Rawly Sánchez, a fourteen-year-old ninth grader at North Oak Cliff High School is being hailed a hero after his quick-thinking and fast actions saved famed fashion model, Nikki Demetrius, from drowning,” Delia Franco reported.

  Nevin was right. Her name was Nikki.

  The restaurant workers cheered and clapped. Mrs. Sánchez chewed her nails as she listened.

  “At around four-thirty this afternoon, twenty-two year old Nikki Demetrius, the daughter of diamond magnate, Andrei Demetrius, lost control of her car after her brakes locked when she tried to stop at a red light. Her car side-slipped off the road and plummeted into Winnetka Creek. Miraculously, Ms. Demetrius survived her fall. Let’s take a look at this incredible footage.”

  The news aired a video clip of the accident.

  “As you can see, Ms. Demetrius managed to pull herself from her car,” Delia Franco said. “However, the soft soil in the creek bed gave way, and her car sank into the water. What happened next can only be described, as Brent told you, super.”

  The next clip showed Rawly, ripping open his shirt, as he ran after Nikki Demetrius. The camera captured him dropping to his stomach on the bridge floor, hanging his shirt over and pulling the fashion model out of the water.

  Mrs. Sánchez gasped when she saw Rawly almost yanked into the creek.

  “The word hero tends to be overused these days, but this is one time when it is truly deserved,” Delia Franco said as she concluded her report. “Nikki Demetrius was taken to Methodist Medical Center for injuries she suffered in the accident, but she is expected to fully recover. This is Delia Franco reporting for Channel 12 News.”

  “Wow!” Teresita cried. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my whole life.” She kissed Rawly on the cheek.

  Fredo patted him on the back and shook his hand. “We’ve got ourselves a real live hero here.”

  “So it was a Demetrius family member,” Rawly’s mother said. “They’re one of the richest families in Texas, you know.”

  “Do you think they’ll give Rawly a reward?” Isabel asked.

  “They should,” Fredo said. “I mean, he saved Andrei Demetrius’s daughter. How much do you think her life’s worth?”

  “Mucho dinero,” Enrique, one of the assistant cooks answered. He pretended to rub dollar bills between his fingers. “Mucho, mucho dinero.” He smiled, revealing two gold upper teeth.

  Rawly’s mother mused over Enrique’s words. She started to comment on them but changed her mind. “Come on. Let’s get the place cleaned up so we can go home.”

  “You’re not going to make Rawly clean up, too, are you?” Fredo asked, smiling. “I mean, he’s a hero. Heroes shouldn’t have to sweep floors.”

  “I don’t mind,” Rawly said. “I should do my job like everyone else.”

  “Spoken like a true hero,” Teresita said and handed him a broom.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The following morning, Rawly walked outside his house and picked up a copy of The Dallas Morning News from the front lawn. He liked to read the comics section before he left for school. This time he didn’t make it to the comics.

  On the front page of the paper was a large picture of the double-panel photo that had been shown on the news the night before, with Rawly, side by side, with Christopher Reeve. Above the picture, in bold letters, was the caption: SIMPLY SUPER! The article told almost the exact story that had aired on TV.

  Rawly ran to his mother’s bedroom and pounded on the door.

  Her slurry voice invited him in.

  “Mom, look!” He jumped on the bed next to her like he used to when he was little and held the newspaper in front of her face.

  She sat up, pulling her blanket to her neck. She squinted, trying to make out the blurry image on the newspaper. “Get me my glasses.”

  Rawly picked up her reading glasses from the nightstand and handed them to her. “Isn’t this cool?”

  Her face beamed with pride as she read the article. She stared at the photograph and said, “Finally, someone in this family did something right.”

  Rawly understood what she meant. Jaime’s picture had once been in the newspaper, too. Above his picture, though, we
re the words: DRUNK DRIVER KILLS METHODIST HOSPITAL NURSE.

  “This is nice,” Rawly’s mother said. “Real nice.” She returned to the part in the story that briefly detailed the Demetrius family’s background. She thought about what Enrique had said. Mucho dinero. Mucho, mucho dinero.

  “I’m going to take this to the restaurant to show everyone,” she said. “Then I’ll buy a frame for it and hang it there.”

  Rawly had wanted to take the newspaper to school to show the guys. Maybe he could buy another copy later.

  As it turned out, he didn’t need the newspaper.

  When he got on the school bus, he was greeted with whistles, cheers and applause. Jennifer Barclay had brought a copy of The Dallas Morning News and had been passing it around to everyone.

  Miss Olivia, the bus driver, grinned a piano mouth of teeth. “There’s my hero,” she said and gave Rawly a hug. “When I saw you on the news last night, I told my mother, ‘That boy rides on my bus. I know him.’”

  “What’s it feel like to be a hero?” Santiago Pérez asked him.

  Jennifer Barclay held up the newspaper and said, “Simply super! Right, Rawly?”

  Arlie Hoyle giggled like a little girl. “Hey, Rawly, what was it like to kiss Nikki Demetrius?”

  Rawly’s face turned red. “I didn’t kiss her.”

  “Sure you did,” Arlie said. “They had a close-up of you and Nikki on TV last night. You were practically playing tonsil hockey with her.”

  “I was trying to give her mouth-to-mouth,” Rawly answered defensively.

  Arlie hee-heed again. “You sure were. And you gave it to her, man. Right on the mouth.”

  “I wish Nikki Demetrius would give me mouth-to-mouth,” Santiago said dreamily.

  The reception Rawly received when he got on the bus was nothing compared to what awaited him when he arrived at school. A swarm of reporters and photographers rushed the bus as soon as it pulled up in front of the school. Microphones were shoved in Rawly’s face. TV news cameras zoomed in on him, and bulbs flashed like fireworks. Strangers he had never met called him by name and fired a barrage of questions.

  “What was going through your mind when you saw the car go into the water?”

  “How does it feel knowing you saved someone’s life?”

  “Where did you learn CPR?”

  “Did you know it was Nikki Demetrius when you pulled her out of the water?”

  Questions came at such a rapid pace that Rawly’s mind couldn’t process them fast enough. The crowds came closer. Noisier. Rowdier. Suffocating him.

  Rawly stood flabbergasted. He was aware that he had rescued someone important, but it hadn’t dawned on him how big a name Nikki Demetrius was. As of yesterday, he had never even heard of her.

  Finally, Mr. Hair pushed his way though the crowd. He wrapped an arm around Rawly and raised a hand to signal silence. He announced to the press that he, the teachers, the staff and the students at North Oak Cliff High School were all proud of Rawly, and that Rawly had brought great honor to the school and to the city. The photographers clicked their cameras while Mr. Hair smiled with an arm clamped around Rawly’s shoulders.

  Rawly looked at the walls of people that surrounded him. His heart swelled. Yesterday, he had been the laughing stock of the school. Twenty-four hours later, he was a star. In one day, he had gone from zero to hero.

  The questions continued coming at him in loud, sometimes inaudible, murmurs. Rawly smiled at the reporters and did his best to answer their questions.

  After a few more pictures, Mr. Hair reminded the reporters that school was still in session. Then he escorted Rawly to the building.

  Nevin hurried up to them. “I’ll take it from here, sir,” he told Mr. Hair. “I’ll make sure Rawly makes it to his classes all right.” Nevin pushed back crowds of students. “Step aside, step aside,” he ordered. “My client cannot be bothered at the moment. He has classes to attend. However, if you wish to speak with him, you may make an appointment with me, and I’ll try to fit you into his schedule.”

  Miyoko ran up to them with a look of rapture in her eyes. “Rawly, is it true what the kids are saying? That you saved Nikki Demetrius’s life?”

  Rawly stiffened in apprehension. “Um, listen, Miyoko, about the other night. I’m sorry I broke your guitar. I didn’t mean to. It’s just . . . ”

  Miyoko waved off his concern. “Don’t worry about that. Tell me what happened with Nikki.”

  Rawly gave her a brief version of the story he had told a dozen times.

  “That is so awesome!” she cried. “What was Nikki like? Did you get a chance to talk to her?”

  “Not really. She was pretty much out of it.”

  “But she did say something to you, dude,” Nevin said. “Tell Miyoko what Nikki told you.”

  “She said, ‘Thank you for saving my life.’”

  Nevin grinned. “Is that cool or what? Nikki Demetrius said that to him. She knows Rawly saved her.”

  “Are you going to get to meet her?” Miyoko asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course he is,” Nevin said. “Surely Nikki Demetrius wants to meet the guy who saved her life.”

  “If you get a chance to see her, can I go with you?” Miyoko asked, her eyes brimming with hope. “I would absolutely die for a chance to meet Nikki.”

  Rawly couldn’t believe it. Miyoko was practically begging him to take her to meet Nikki Demetrius. She wasn’t even mad that he had broken her guitar. “Sure, I guess,” he said. It was the least he could do.

  Nevin rested an arm on Rawly’s shoulder. “We’ll all go. The more, the merrier, I always say.”

  Miyoko brushed back her hair. “I’ve always dreamed of being a model, just like Nikki. Maybe if I get to talk to her, she can tell me how to get started.”

  During English class, Ms. Palacios had Rawly stand in front of the class. She held up a copy of The Dallas Morning News story and congratulated him for his bravery.

  After Rawly sat down, Ms. Palacios said, “William Shakespeare wrote, Some men are born great. Some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

  She asked the class what they thought Shakespeare meant. Most of the responses centered on Rawly saving the fashion model’s life. Afterwards, Ms. Palacios had her students write an essay about what makes a hero.

  Rawly thought about how Sid Lundy had described the qualities of a hero: courage, sacrificing oneself for the good of others, being able to overcome adversity. In one way or another, yesterday, he had met all those qualifications.

  Throughout the day, kids commented on his rescue.

  “Hi, Superman.”

  “Look! Up in the sky! It’s a bird. It’s plane. No, it’s Super Rawly!”

  Iris Solís caught up with him in the hallway and wrapped her arms around his neck. “See, Rawly? I told you, you were smart. You only had seconds to think, but you knew exactly what to do.”

  Rawly gently peeled her arms off. He looked around to see if Arlie or one of the other guys was watching. “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

  During lunch, Falesha Coe and Lisa Kirksey pointed at him and sang and danced to Aretha Franklin’s, Rescue Me.

  . . . Come on and rescue me

  come on, baby and rescue me

  come on, baby and rescue me

  ’coz I need you by my side

  can’t you see that I’m lonely

  Rescue me.

  That was fine. Rawly didn’t mind. It was certainly better than having to endure another stupid gorilla joke. He gave them a “thumbs up.”

  Rawly had never had a better day. Even algebra class wasn’t bad. Like most of the other teachers, Mr. Mondragón had hung up the newspaper article. He praised Rawly on his courage and quick-thinking.

  “Now let’s see if you can apply that same quick-thinking to this,” Mr. Mondragón added with a wink. He turned on the projector and showed the class a set of word problems. They were instructed to write an algebraic equation
for each one.

  1. Marco has a collection of candies that include Jolly Ranchers, Atomic Fireballs and Starbursts. He has twice as many Jolly Ranchers as Atomic Fireballs and three more Starbursts than Jolly Ranchers. He has a total of 28 pieces of candy. How many Fireballs does Marco have?

  Rawly had a problem to solve. He went over all his options. He thought of everything he knew about algebra. He made a few calculations on his paper and . . . bingo! He had an answer.

  He read over his work to make sure it was correct. Satisfied, he copied the next problem. He paused and looked up at the newspaper article stapled on the bulletin board. Suddenly he felt invigorated, energized. He wrote a few figures on his paper, then smiled as the answer came to him.

  Bring it on, Mr. Mondragón, he thought, and jotted down the next problem. Bring it on!

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Mrs. Sánchez was sitting in her office, talking on the phone. She looked up when Rawly walked in and motioned for him to sit down. Rawly tossed his backpack on the floor and relaxed on the couch.

  As soon as she got off the phone, Rawly’s mother pointed to her computer and said excitedly, “Rawly, look at this.”

  He rose and came around her desk.

  “We’ve received tons of emails from people asking about you.” She scrolled down a long list of names. “I’ve hardly had a chance to get any work done because I’ve been on the phone. Your tíos and tías, your güelos—everyone’s been calling.” Her eyes glinted with delight. “Not only that, but guess what? We’ve gotten calls from all the news stations. They want to interview you.”

  “Yeah, they showed up at my school, too,” Rawly told her.

  His mother rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, trying to look annoyed. “Oh, and that Delia Franco from Channel 12 News called, too. I suppose we’ll have to let her interview you again since her station covered the story first. She wants to come by the restaurant tonight.”

  Rawly thought back to Open Mic Night and how he had made a fool of himself. There had been about a hundred-fifty people in the auditorium then. If he appeared on television, who knew how many viewers would be watching?