Don't Call Me Hero

by Ray Villareal

  Outside he heard the rain falling gently on the back porch and the gurgling water spilling from the downspout of the rain gutter.

  For the first time since the accident, Rawly realized how lucky he was that he hadn’t fallen into the water trying to save Nikki Demetrius. His mother was right. He had taken a huge chance. If Nikki had pulled him off the bridge, he wouldn’t have saved her. He wouldn’t have been a hero. Nikki would have drowned. He would have drowned.

  Shazzam!

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  When the bus pulled up in front of the school, Rawly wasn’t surprised to see that Nevin wasn’t waiting for him like he usually did.

  Let him be mad. I don’t need Nevin latching onto me. There are plenty of other people who want to hang out with me now.

  Then, almost as if to confirm his thoughts, he heard someone shout, “Hey, Rawly! C’mere.”

  Cruz Vega was standing in front of the gym with a group of kids. A girl with short, reddish-brown hair had an arm wrapped around him.

  Cruz announced to his friends, “This is Rawly Sánchez, the guy who saved that model’s life.”

  “I saw you on TV,” Cruz’s latest girlfriend said. “You’re kinda famous, aren’t you?”

  Rawly shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Rawly knows Jackhammer Jones from Channel 12,” Cruz said. “And he’s gonna get me an interview with him, aren’t you?”

  Rawly couldn’t tell Cruz the truth now. He had dug himself too deeply in his lies. At the fair, Rawly told Cruz and his friends that he really had met Jeremiah Jones, and that Jackhammer (That’s what he told me to call him) said how proud he was of him for what he had done. Jackhammer also said that if Rawly ever needed anything from him, all he had to do was ask.

  By the time they met up with the girls, Rawly had gotten so wrapped up in his lies that he told them he had gotten phone calls from some of Hollywood’s biggest celebrities, who wanted to thank him for saving Nikki’s life. The only truthful part of his story was when he said that he was going to meet Nikki Demetrius in person.

  Big Feo plopped a massive hand on Rawly’s shoulder and said, “Cruz ain’t the only star on the team, you know.” Big Feo looked like a hippopotamus wearing a purple and white North Oak Cliff High School football jacket. The girl with him was a little smaller, a pygmy hippo. She wore an over-sized orange T-shirt and faded denim jeans. BOO! was written on the T-shirt in black letters. “I made five tackles in last Friday’s game,” Big Feo said. “You gonna get me an interview with Jackhammer Jones, too?”

  “I’ll try,” Rawly lied.

  “Hey, don’t forget about my party,” Cruz reminded him. “We’re gonna have it at my cousin Frankie’s apartment. He lives at the Vista Ridge Apartments on Tenth Street. You’re gonna go, aren’t you?”

  Rawly smiled. “Sure, I guess. If I can get a ride.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Cruz said. “You can go with me. We’ll leave right after the game.”

  Rawly had attended only one game this season, when he and Nevin watched the Bisons defeat the Kiest Park Coyotes 24 to 14. His mother always made him work on Fridays, but Rawly didn’t think he would have a problem getting Friday night off. How could his mother say no to her son, the hero?

  “We’ll order some pizzas,” Cruz said. “And Frankie’s getting the beer.”

  “Beer?” Rawly gulped. “But I’m not old enough to drink.”

  The group laughed.

  “Tell you what, Rawly,” Cruz said. “I’ll get Frankie to buy you a Coke, okay? You can drink Cokes, can’t you?”

  The group laughed again.

  Rawly turned red. He had said the wrong thing. He realized then that he didn’t belong to Cruz’s clique. He wasn’t like them. He was out of their league.

  Rawly began to have second thoughts about going to Cruz’s victory party. It was one of those types of parties that had landed Jaime where he was.

  The bell sounded

  “I’ve got to go,” Rawly said. “See you.”

  Cruz shook Rawly’s hand. Then he reeled him in until their faces almost touched. “Don’t forget about our deal,” Cruz said. He smiled and released Rawly’s hand.

  Rawly left them, feeling shaky.

  Arlie Hoyle and Santiago Pérez caught up with him.

  “You know those guys?” Arlie asked in disbelief.

  Rawly composed himself and said, “Sure. In fact, yesterday, me and Cruz went to the fair together.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Santiago said. “No offense, Rawly, but why would Cruz Vega want to hang out with you. I mean, you don’t even play football.”

  “Ask him. He’ll tell you.” Rawly puffed his shoulders. “Cruz also invited me to a victory party he’s having after the game Friday night.”

  “Now I know you’re lying,” Santiago said.

  “Then don’t believe me,” Rawly said. “I don’t care.” He strutted off, trying to look important.

  At lunchtime, Jennifer Barclay stood next to Rawly and asked Andrea Marino to take their picture with her camera phone. “You might turn out to be famous some day,” Jennifer said, “and I want to be able to say I knew you when.”

  “He’s already famous,” Arlie said. “He’s practically on every TV channel.”

  “Maybe they’ll make a movie about him,” Coy Deeter said. “I can see it now,” he added, running his hand across the air, as if he was reading a marquee. “The Rawly Sánchez Story.”

  “Nah, it would need a cooler title than that,” Arlie said. “More like, Rawly Sánchez, Teen Hero .”

  “Yeah, that’s a good one,” Coy agreed. “That sound good to you, Rawly?”

  Rawly didn’t answer. He was watching Nevin, who was standing in the lunch line, being uncharacteristically quiet. Rawly thought about what he had done to him at the fair and felt bad about it. He wasn’t ready to give up Nevin as a friend. He just wanted to teach him a lesson. As soon as Nevin got his food, Rawly would invite him to join him at his table. Maybe now that Nevin had learned what it felt like to be dumped, he would be a little more considerate in the future.

  Rawly felt a pair of hands reach up from behind and cover his eyes. “Guess who?”

  He couldn’t mistake that voice. Rawly peeled off Miyoko’s hands.

  “Have you heard anything from Nikki yet?” Miyoko whispered in his ear. She had written down the names of the girls who were going with her to meet the fashion model, and except for Iris, no other girl at the table was on the list.

  “Just from her rep,” Rawly said in his normal speaking voice. “Nikki’s still pretty banged up, and she wants to wait until . . . ”

  “Tell me later,” Miyoko interrupted. She glanced around to see if anyone was listening.

  “I saw your test paper hanging on the wall in Mr. Mondragón’s classroom, Rawly,” Iris said. “Looks like your algebra’s improving.”

  “Thanks. I don’t think I’ll ever be great shakes at it, but I’m doing all right, I guess.”

  “Good,” Iris said. “I told you, you could do it.”

  Nevin walked toward their table, holding his lunch tray. Rawly scooted in. There was an empty seat next to him. Nevin stopped. Ignoring everyone else, he leaned into Rawly and said softly, “A picture’s worth a thousand words, my friend.” Then he strode off and sat at a table across from them.

  “What did he say?” Jennifer asked.

  “I don’t know,” Arlie answered. “Something about a preacher’s words. Maybe he heard something in church yesterday that’s making him feel guilty.”

  “Nevin doesn’t go to a church,” Rawly said. “He’s Jewish. He goes to a synagogue.”

  “Well, wherever he gets his religion, something’s bothering him,” Coy said. He nudged his head toward Nevin, who was hunched over the table, scarfing down his food. “What’s the matter with your friend?”

  “I don’t know,” Rawly answered. “He probably just wants to be alone.”

  “Maybe he wants to think about what th
e preacher said,” Arlie mused.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Rawly stopped by Heroes & Villains on the way to the restaurant. Sid Lundy had cut out The Dallas Morning News articles and had taped them to the window outside his store. A note on an index card was taped below the articles. It read: OAK CLIFF’S VERY OWN SUPERHERO, RAWLY SANCHEZ.

  Sid was waiting on a woman who was arguing with her son, a boy in the fifth grade, who said he hated to read. The woman told Sid that she remembered reading Archie comics as a girl. She thought that if she could interest her son in the stories of Archie, Jughead, Veronica and Betty, he might develop a love for reading.

  The boy refused to even look at an Archie comic, calling it a baby comic book for girls. He pointed to an issue of Fangoria, a horror magazine that specialized in slasher and splatter films. On the cover was a zombie with rotten teeth and decaying flesh.

  “I’ll read that one,” the boy said.

  “Not while you live under my roof,” the woman answered sternly. She sat an Archie, an Archie’s Pal Jughead and a Betty and Veronica Digest on the counter. The boy stood next to her with his arms crossed and his lower lip sticking out like a shelf.

  “Ah, look who’s here,” Sid announced when Rawly entered the store.

  Rawly waved at him.

  “This is Rawly Sánchez, the young man who saved Nikki Demetrius’s life the other day,” Sid told the woman and her son. “I’m sure you read about him in the paper or saw him on TV. The articles are hanging on my window out front.”

  The boy’s pouty expression disappeared, and his face brightened. “Really? You’re him?”

  “Sure am,” Rawly said.

  “Can I have your autograph?” the boy asked.

  Rawly looked at Sid and the woman with uncertainty. “I . . . sure.” He shoved his hands in his pockets to look for a pen or pencil. He brought them back out empty and asked the boy, “Do you have something for me to write with?”

  Sid pulled a pen out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Rawly. “Here you go.”

  “What do you want me to autograph?” Rawly asked.

  The boy picked up the Archie magazine from the counter. “Here. Sign this. Then it won’t look like a baby comic ’cause it was autographed by a real hero.”

  Rawly felt weird being asked for his autograph, but he figured it came with his new role. He would have to get used to it. Now that he was a hero, he would probably be asked for his autograph all the time. He thought about writing a dedication line, but what could he say?

  Of course!

  “What’s your name?”

  “Stevie. Stevie Biggs.”

  Rawly signed the comic book: To Stevie Biggs—Grab it! Your friend, Rawly Sánchez.

  The woman winked at Rawly and said, “I’m sure you love to read, don’t you?”

  Rawly understood her cue. If he was truthful, he would have answered, “Not really. Just comic books.” But as a hero, he realized he was also a role model. It was part of his responsibility to say the right things. He handed the comic book to Stevie Biggs and said, “I read all the time. Reading makes you smart. You want to be smart, don’t you?”

  “Sure, I guess,” Stevie said.

  “Then read,” Rawly told him. “Read a lot.”

  The woman winked at Rawly again. She said to her son, “See? That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Reading makes you smart. And this young man should know. It took smart thinking for him to figure out how to save that girl.”

  Rawly had never been a role model before. It felt great.

  After the woman and the boy left, Sid asked Rawly, “Where’s your friend?”

  Your friend.

  “Nevin? Aw, he’s a little mad at me right now.”

  “Oh?” Sid leaned on the counter and folded his arms.

  “I think he’s jealous,” Rawly said smugly. “You know, now that I’m famous and everything.”

  Rawly had tried talking to Nevin again, but Nevin ignored him. He only repeated the words he had said earlier in the cafeteria: “A picture’s worth a thousand words, my friend.”

  “Well, now that’s the other side of being a hero, Rawly,” Sid said. “People think it’s all about fame and glory, but there’s a lot more to it than that.”

  “Yeah? Like what?” Rawly asked.

  Sid came around the counter and removed a Jimmy Olsen figure someone had hung in the wrong place and put it back with the Superman family of toys. “Heroes are held to a higher standard,” he said. “They’re expected to be kinder, nicer to everyone. If they’re not, they’ll be accused of being stuck up, of being arrogant.” Sid stooped and picked up a gum wrapper from the floor and tossed it in the trash can. “Take that little boy whose comic book you autographed, for instance. You made his day. Being a hero isn’t just about saving lives. It’s also about being caring and treating others with respect.”

  Rawly furrowed his brows. Sid wasn’t talking about that kid. He was talking about him and Nevin. But I’m not stuck up. I care about others. I talk to everybody. It’s Nevin who’s mad at me because I abandoned him at the fair. But he had it coming. He deserved it. Like they say, people who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Well, Nevin’s thrown plenty of stones at me. If Nevin doesn’t like it, then he shouldn’t do it to other people.

  “Careful how you handle your fame, Rawly,” Sid advised. “Folks can be fickle. One wrong move and they’ll turn on you in an instant.”

  “I’ll be fine, Sid. You don’t have to worry about me.” Rawly hurried down an aisle. He didn’t need Sid preaching to him. Sid wasn’t his father.

  Rawly picked up the graphic novel Watchmen and thumbed through it.

  Maybe Sid’s right. I have been kind of rough on Nevin. I’ll apologize to him for leaving him alone at the fair. Rawly smiled. I’ll tell Nevin I want us to be Jumex again.

  Nevin had a special quality Rawly admired. Most of the guys thought Nevin was an oddball, but that was only because they didn’t understand that he functioned on a different level.

  Nevin didn’t listen to bubblegum pop music groups like the Jeremy Trio. He preferred the improvisational jazz tunes of Yells at Eels. You couldn’t drag Nevin to see a chick flick like Scarlet Dreams or even the latest summer blockbuster. Nevin’s taste in films was different from most fourteen-year-olds. Nevin once made Rawly sit and watch Midnight Caravan, a movie Nevin had rented, one that Rawly didn’t understand until Nevin explained it to him. Nevin’s quirky sense of humor often made Rawly groan, but he also had to admit that it was unique. There probably wasn’t another kid at North Oak Cliff High School quite like Nevin Steinberg.

  Besides, Rawly had bigger problems to deal with. What was he going to do about Cruz Vega? When was he going to tell him the truth? What would happen when he did? Twice, Rawly had seen Cruz in the hallways. Each time, Rawly had made a quick detour in the opposite direction.

  Then there was Miyoko. Tomorrow he would be going to meet Nikki Demetrius, and neither Miyoko nor her friends would be joining him. How long was he going to keep stringing her along? Earlier, Miyoko had approached him and asked, once again, when they were going to see Nikki.

  “Soon,” he told her.

  Miyoko read off a growing list of girls she planned to invite. “We can go in separate cars,” she said. “Skye has her driver’s license, so some of the girls can ride with her.”

  Why hadn’t he just told her she couldn’t go?

  You know why. ’Cause you like her flirting with you, putting her hands all over you, that’s why.

  Funny how much Rawly’s life had changed in a week. If he hadn’t missed his exit that day, none of this would have happened. He would have gotten off the DART bus at the intersection of Zang and West Jefferson. He might have dropped by Heroes & Villains on the way to the restaurant to check out the new shipment of comics. Nikki Demetrius would probably have drowned, and Rawly might have read about her in the paper the next morning with little interest, since he didn’t know who s
he was.

  Cruz wouldn’t have asked him to hang out with them at the fair. Rawly wouldn’t have been invited to Cruz’s victory party.

  He would have just been the nerdy kid in the gorilla costume who had humiliated Miyoko Elena Chávez by squashing her guitar.

  That night, Rawly dreamed he was back at Winnetka Creek. He was running along the bank, watching Nikki Demetrius floating in the water, thrashing her arms, screams gargling out of her mouth. Up ahead, he saw the bridge. He knew what to do. He had done it a million times before, in other dreams. Rawly ripped off his shirt and ran toward the bridge. Only this time, just before he reached it, he tripped on a rock and fell on his face, inches away from the bridge. He watched helplessly as the water currents carried Nikki away.

  “Nooo!” Rawly jumped to his feet and ran after her, but it was too late. Nikki disappeared underwater and didn’t resurface.

  His dream switched to another scene, one of an ambulance parked on the street, its flashing lights shining brightly in the dark, cloudy day. Two paramedics were wheeling a gurney away from the creek. A body lying on the gurney was covered from head to foot with a white sheet. As the paramedics collapsed the gurney’s wheeled frame to push it into the ambulance, the sheet caught on a side bar and was pulled down, exposing Nikki’s ghostly face. She turned her head and stared at Rawly with wide, blank eyes.

  “Why didn’t you save me?” she asked in a cold, hoarse voice.

  Rawly recoiled in horror. “I . . . I . . . ” he started.

  “You let me drown! You let me drownnn!” Her voice trailed off as she was wheeled into the ambulance.

  Rawly woke up. He jumped out of bed and switched on the wall light. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, and his heart pounded madly.

  He was no hero. It was by sheer luck that he had pulled Nikki Demetrius out of the water. He could just as easily have fallen into the creek with her.

  Who knows? The currents may have swept her to the creek bank, where she could have crawled out of the water on her own. The Walmart worker and the girl had already called 9-1-1. The paramedics and the cop had shown up almost immediately.