The F Factor

by Diane Gonzales Bertrand

  Dylan gave him another killer glare before he turned back to Mr. Seneca. The teacher stood by the television, a frown as deep as a cavern marking his features.

  “You need to keep Javier and Pat on the air until football season is over,” Dylan told him. “It’s not fair they get all the extra time to practice and we don’t.”

  “If you think it’s all about an hour of practice, you’re sadly mistaken.” Carefully, Mr. Seneca took a few steps forward. “Javier and Pat read ahead of time and then rewrite what needs to be said. You and Ram grabbed the announcements off my desk and read them cold. Did you even listen during practice? I knew it was going to be bad.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Ram said. “Why didn’t you make Javier rewrite the announcements first? We looked so stupid this morning!”

  “If I had tried to warn you, would you have listened to me?” Mr. Seneca replied, slightly lowering his chin to stare directly at Dylan.

  “It’s not fair. I don’t know nothing about writing.” Dylan’s voice got a notch louder. “Why can’t Javier just keep writing all the announcements? Why do the rest of us have to look bad because we aren’t all super-brainiacs like Javier Ávila?”

  “So you’re going to insult Javier and then expect him to help you?” Pat quickly jumped into the heated discussion. “We wanted to help you this morning, but all you did was blow us off and brag about yourselves. Face it … you two messed up! You owe my friend here an apology and a polite request to help you with the writing.”

  No one said a word. Who knew sleepy ol’ Pat had grown a backbone?

  “Okay.” Ram slowly unclenched his teeth and looked at Javier. “We can use the help, Javier. Can you do some of the writing so we sound better tomorrow morning?”

  Javier liked the feeling of power he held in his hands. It was hard not to smile as he said, “I don’t mind becoming a scriptwriter for other broadcast teams, but you need Pat’s help too. I might know a better way to structure a sentence, but Pat can coach you on ways to work together.” He hoped the guys in the class finally understood that even non-athletes could appreciate teamwork.

  Mr. Seneca cleared his throat loudly. “Javier and Pat shouldn’t have to bail you out every day, gentlemen. All of you need to get better at rewriting and speaking on camera. No more excuses.” He started a lecture on media ethics, and just before the bell rang, he announced, “Attention, sophomores! Today after school, we’ll meet so I can demonstrate how to insert video clips into the broadcast. Plan to stick around until five.”

  “We get here early, and he still wants us to come after school?” Javier complained to Pat after they walked outside after first period. “He’s getting us coming and going, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” Pat replied. He rushed his hand through his short dark hair. “And there’s still a lot of equipment in those cabinets we haven’t used yet. We could be here every day for the rest of the semester. Don’t you just love the surprises in an elective class?”

  Javier shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in an elective class.”

  “What?” Pat’s eyes widened under his raised eyebrows. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m dead serious. In middle school, I took classes to get me ahead for high school. Now I am doing pre-AP classes and taking junior-level courses as a sophomore. I never made time in my schedule to take an elective.”

  “Then how did you get into this one?”

  “It was Brother Calvin,” Javier said, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “I know old Calavera put this class on my schedule because I wasn’t involved in any school clubs. All last year he’d tell me, ‘There’s more to life than studying twenty-four-seven.”

  “Amen to that!” Pat said with a laugh. “Why not have some fun? You only get one life, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Javier replied, feeling the itch of uncertainty slide inside his shoes.

  But even if he had wanted to change his thinking, there was no time for it. He walked into a pop quiz on Emerson in English, had to lead the discussion on the Assyrians in history class, and felt as if the rest of his teachers had spent their Labor Day weekend figuring out ways to add more work to their students’ lives. As he pushed his way through the crowded hallway after last period, Javier wished he could go home and get started on papers, problems, and projects. Only Mr. Seneca had other plans for him.

  Javier sighed as he opened his locker and started to load up his backpack with books he would need later. He had actually finished all his chemistry definitions in class and felt tempted to take the book home to read ahead, but he didn’t have the extra time anymore. He left two other books behind, closed his locker, and started walking down the hall. He had just reached the area leading out of the building when he saw Brother Calvin coming inside the door.

  He gave Javier a grin that only made the old man’s face look even more like a cardboard Halloween skeleton. “Hello, Javier. I missed seeing you on Guardian TV this morning. You have developed a great on-air persona.”

  “It’s time for Dylan and Ram to take their turn on the broadcast. I’m working behind the scenes now.” Javier wasn’t expecting his voice to sound cold, but it suited the mood he felt. He was tired and suddenly resentful of the man’s interference.

  “Learning a lot, are you?” Brother Calvin clapped Javier on the shoulder like they were long-lost compadres. “You know, it was like working a jigsaw puzzle to fit that elective into your schedule.”

  Javier took a step back, shrugging off the man’s bony hand. “I don’t think it was fair to put me in that elective without telling me first.”

  “If I had asked you about it, what would you have told me?”

  “I would have said that I’d think about it.”

  “Think about it? Maybe? Last year, Javier, every answer you gave me was indecisive.”

  “I’m decisive,” Javier answered. “I made a decision to work hard on my academics when I came to this school.”

  “I respect the effort, Javier, but I’d like to know if you’re satisfied with that decision. Are you happy with it?”

  “Why is ‘happy’ relevant? I can’t believe the school counselor could be complaining about my high grades.” His eyes burned with anger. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about kids who are failing?”

  Brother Calvin crossed his arms like adults do when they think they’re right. “You know, Javier, there are other ways to fail besides getting an F on a report card. What about failing to try something new? What about failing to discover something to feel passionate about?”

  “Passionate? I’m passionate about my schoolwork. I kept a 4.0 all last year.”

  “There’s a difference between passion and obsession. I think you are so caught up in school academics that you forget you should be enjoying your life.”

  “Why did you assume this elective was going to let me enjoy life? Media class takes up all the extra time I used to have for reading and studying.”

  “So you don’t like the elective?”

  Javier stopped in mid-reply. He wanted to tell the old man, “No, I hate it,” but the truth was, that class had taught him a lot. But he didn’t want Brother Calvin to know it. He said, “Mr. Seneca’s giving me a lot of work to do after school because of this new elective you put on my schedule. I’m late now. Excuse me, Sir.”

  He stepped around the school counselor and headed out the door. And while he still fumed as he walked inside the media classroom, it didn’t take long before Javier forgot about grade points and school counselors. As soon as he watched Mr. Seneca load up the first broadcast and explain how the switcher could make announcements even better with video clips, Javier felt excited and inspired. “Mr. Seneca, can you teach us more about the cameras in your cabinet? What good is the switcher if what we film looks like an amateur did it?”

  Kenny grunted and said, “Speak for yourself, Javier. I know what I’m doing behind the camera.”

  “That’s good, Kenny. Then you can tea
ch the other guys,” Mr. Seneca said. He leaned over and unhooked his keychain from his belt. “Javier, open up the cabinets and get out the cameras we have in there. Pat, help him carry them over to the desk area so Kenny can take over for a while. I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

  As Javier and Pat walked away, Kenny said, “Any idiot can aim and focus. Just be sure to press the ON button before you screw up and got nothing to show for it.”

  “I’d rather get a tooth filled than learn from Kenny García,” Javier said quietly to Pat as he opened the cabinets. “I’ll borrow the manual from Mr. Seneca, okay?”

  “You are a nerd, Jack,” Pat replied. He laughed before he said, “I’d rather get a tooth filled than read a manual.”

  After listening to Kenny’s I-know-it-all-and-the-rest-of-you-are-idiots lecture, Javier took home one manual and convinced Pat to read a different one. By the next day they started to film inside the band hall. Javier shot close-ups of the drumline. Then Pat filmed the brass section and did close-ups of Ignacio playing his trumpet and Mr. Henley conducting the band. Finally, they did a wide shot with most of the guys waving or pumping their instruments over their heads, hamming it up for the camera.

  Inside the media classroom, the real work began as they uploaded the raw footage and worked with the editing software for the rest of the week.

  “I’m glad I told Kenny to film tomorrow’s game,” Mr. Seneca told Javier and Pat on Friday afternoon. They had been sitting at the computers the past two hours. “You two have a better sense for editing.”

  “That’s ‘cause Javier is so crazy about details,” Pat told his teacher. “He’s also a perfectionist. Javier does everything over and over and over again.”

  Mr. Seneca chuckled, but he also tapped Javier’s shoulder and said, “Attention to detail has its place. Look at the big picture too. Details are only as good as the whole message they create.”

  “Yes, Sir,” he answered, a bit thoughtful about Mr. Seneca’s advice. He looked at the image on the computer screen in front of him. It was Andy leaning over his drum, his blurred hands beating a rapid cadence. His face beamed with a toothy smile of undiluted joy. But when Javier looked again, he saw the rest of the drummers angled behind Andy and the horn players in front of him, also engrossed in their own music making. In the bigger image, he discovered creative expression and collaboration. It was the difference between random noise and a thing called music.

  He began to wonder what would happen if he used music behind the film clips they showed during the broadcast? What if we filmed more student activities besides the band and the football team? What about taking the camera to the next pep rally? What about interviews?

  “Let’s call it a day, gentlemen.” Mr. Seneca’s order interrupted Javier’s musings. “It’s almost five-thirty, and I’m beat.”

  Javier reluctantly shut down the computer. He liked to experiment with the sequence of images and think about ways to present them. He hadn’t enjoyed anything like this since his grade-school Science Fair days. That was the last time he recalled using new skills and his own creativity to solve a problem.

  It wasn’t until they had walked away from the building that Javier said, “I hope Kenny gets good video from tomorrow’s game. Maybe we can set it to music.”

  Pat nodded but didn’t comment. They had walked closer to the parking lot before he said, “Did I tell you Carrie’s coming to the game tomorrow night?”

  “Pat!” Javier stopped walking and stared at his friend. “Have you been talking to Carrie since my party?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not all.” Pat smiled like the Big Bad Wolf about to eat up Little Red Riding Hood. “Carrie’s bringing Amanda too. You ready to try again, Javier?”

  “Try again?” Javier replied, though he knew perfectly well what Pat meant.

  “Don’t play dumb!” Pat told him. “Maybe Amanda’s not the girl of your dreams, but you can help a friend out and be nice to her, right? I need you to be my wing man.”

  When Javier just stared back, Pat’s eyebrows furrowed over his dark eyes. “You’re not still hung up on my sister, right? She left you hanging, Jack! I wouldn’t wish my sister on anybody—except maybe Kenny García.”

  Javier responded, “A match made in hell, right?”

  “See? You can be funny too, Javier.” Pat shook his head. “You were so freaking serious last year. You reminded me of a robot, and I kept wondering who was pushing the buttons on the remote control?”

  Javier stepped back. The robot comparison stung, but it was truthful too. “I guess I used to be a robot, Pat, but not anymore.”

  “That’s good news.” Pat laughed. “Humans make much better friends.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “First time I met you, I thought you looked familiar, but I didn’t figure it out until after your party,” Amanda told Javier as they stood together under the bleachers. They were waiting for Pat and Carrie to buy soda at the concession stand across the yard. “You went to the same science camp I did two years ago.”

  He shifted his weight as if he had stepped on a hot sidewalk. “You went to prep camp, Amanda?”

  “Yeah, well, I quit after the first month.” She shrugged and gave him a little smile. “Prep camp interfered with my swim team practice. I like math and science, but I had the chance to train with an Olympic swimmer, so I dropped out.”

  His feet started to cool down. If Amanda didn’t remember that stressed-out phony he had been there, maybe he had a chance to make a better impression. “With that choice, I might have done the same thing. Have you always liked swimming?”

  She laughed easily. “My friends swear I was a mermaid in my past life.”

  Javier smiled. Amanda wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous like Feliz. She didn’t wear make-up, and her streaked hair had been cut way too short to be attractive. Still, she had been nice at his birthday party after he thought Feliz had ruined it. He decided he could be a wing man for Pat and be nice to Carrie’s friend tonight.

  “Swim team is one of my favorite things about school,” she was saying. “What about you, Javier?”

  He remembered awkward conversations with girls because he had never done anything but study, but now he could happily say, “I’m taking a new elective this semester in Media Broadcasting. We televise the school announcements every morning.”

  “Oh, yeah. We do that where I go to school,” Amanda said. “They even show student films. Have you made any movies yet?”

  “I’ve got a lot to learn before I can do that,” he answered honestly and then smiled at her again. “I seem to be a pretty good scriptwriter and editor, but I hope to get more experience shooting film too.”

  By then, Pat and Carrie had come back. They all walked up the ramp into the section of the St. Peter’s football stadium where the students sat. Javier felt relaxed as he climbed up the bleachers behind Amanda, Carrie, and Pat. It was always better to sit with girls. They stopped midway and settled in among other sophomores to watch the game. It wasn’t too crowded, so they had space to sit together comfortably.

  “Look, there’s Kenny,” Pat said, pointing toward the field.

  As the referees lined up with the school captains from both teams for the coin toss, Javier also noticed Kenny standing on the sidelines. Kenny spun the camera on the tripod as he talked to an older man with an even bigger camera.

  He leaned around Amanda to tell Pat, “I bet that’s a TV sports reporter. Can you imagine what Kenny is probably telling the man?”

  “That he’s the only one in our media class who knows how to work a camera.”

  “Do you think Kenny knows he has to pan the camera to follow the moving players?” Javier said. “He can’t just point and focus like he does during a school broadcast.”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Pat answered and then jumped up with the rest of the students when the band began playing the school fight song.

  Sadly, the Guardian football team didn’t provide any outstanding plays,
and by the second quarter, they were losing 28-3. When Javier saw the band lining up for the half-time show, he also realized Kenny wasn’t on the field anymore.

  Javier turned to Amanda. “I’ll be back. I want to be sure someone films the half-time show for our morning broadcast.” He stood up and started to pass in front of the girls. He got past Amanda, but he tripped over Carrie’s feet and toppled toward her.

  “Aw, man!” Javier gasped just as Pat’s strong hands pushed up and kept him upright. Here he was with two nice girls, and he looked like a stupid klutz! Ugh!

  “Where are you going?” Pat asked. He had stood up to keep Javier from falling.

  Javier felt grateful to have a buddy with quick reflexes. He glanced down to be sure he didn’t trip again before he stepped forward. Then he looked up at Pat. “Kenny’s not on the field. Just because we’re losing doesn’t mean he can take off.”

  “Wait … I’ll come with you.” Pat gave Carrie a smile. “We’ll be right back.”

  The two of them quickly walked down the bleachers in search of Kenny García. They found him at the concession stand, drinking a Coke and talking to a couple of the senior basketball players. The zipped camera case hung over Kenny’s shoulder. The tripod was leaning against a trashcan.

  Javier walked purposefully toward him. Only for a moment, he feared the confrontation with Kenny; his desire to present an entertaining broadcast was stronger.

  “Kenny,” he said when he was close enough to be heard, “aren’t you going to film the half-time show?”

  “What?” Kenny turned and frowned. “What’s your problem, Ávila?”

  He attempted to keep his tone even and reasonable. “Kenny, I know there hasn’t been much to film tonight of the football team, but the half-time show’s about to start. Don’t you need to get back on the sidelines and film that too?”

  Kenny straightened up to his full six-foot-three height and glared down at Javier. “My job’s done. The game’s over, man. It ended two touchdowns ago.”