The F Factor by Diane Gonzales Bertrand Page A

shoulder. “You are way too clever to call yourself a dummy.”
    Pat shrugged and then pointed. “There’s the car. Let’s hope Feliz is in a good mood. She can be moody like my dad and say NO to everything.”
    Javier turned his thoughts to Pat’s sister. If the awful August heat wasn’t already making him sweat like a marathon runner, facing a pretty girl like Feliz Berlanga would have him soaked to the bone. If only he could talk to her after he had showered or with a cool autumn breeze in the background. Then he wouldn’t feel like a grungy, awkward idiot. Where was that “Mr. Cool” guy? Taking a vacation?
    As usual, Feliz had the car engine running. Heavy metal music battered the tinted car windows. Pat led the way to the passenger side and opened up the front door to a woman screeching over the music that men were liars and cowards.
    Pat yelled, “Hey! Need to talk!” He reached into the car and the music volume suddenly dropped to background noise. “We need to give Javier a ride home again, but there’s something he wants to talk to you about, so he’s going to sit up front, okay?”
    Javier’s mouth dropped open, never expecting to sit close to a girl he liked. At the same time, he was worried about riding in the front seat and witnessing firsthandthe swerving, speeding, and jerking that came along with Feliz’s driving. If it hadn’t been for the shove that Pat gave him with his backpack, Javier might have stood like a melting statue in the parking lot. Instead, he slid his own backpack onto the thick carpet and climbed into the front seat.
    He turned to Feliz and managed to say, “Hi,” and felt even more uncomfortable when she gave him a little smile. She wore black sunglasses, so he couldn’t tell much.
    â€œHi yourself! It’s Javier, right?”
    He nodded as the back door closed and Pat called out, “He’s the guy who lives near Welita.”
    â€œI remember.” Feliz moved some of her dark hair behind her ear. “It’s that old house with the white gate. Welita’s house is way old too.”
    Javier raised an eyebrow. “Actually my great-grandfather built our house in the 1940s. Many homes in that area have historical significance.”
    Feliz expressed a belittling laugh. “Not Welita’s house. It’s a tired, run-down shack that should have been torn down years ago. The only thing
historical
is that footed bathtub of hers.” She adjusted her sunglasses and then shifted the car into reverse.
    Javier immediately reached for his seatbelt and checked twice that it was secure. He grabbed the car door handle firmly with his right hand.
    Feliz managed to back out of the parking space without hitting anything, although the seatbelt strangled Javier three times as she sped up, braked hard, and ker-thumped, ker-jumped over the speed bumps in the parking lot. She continued to act oblivious to the car horns as she made her too-wide turn into the busy street aroundthe school. Once she straightened out the car, she had no choice but to slow down and ease along with the rush-hour traffic.
    Now that talking wouldn’t be a distraction or put their lives in danger, Javier wondered how to start up a conversation. With his sisters, he started with a compliment, but what could he say to a girl in a school uniform? And the throbbing music in the car wasn’t something he wanted to mention either, so he decided to make her brother look good instead. “You should have heard Pat this morning. He sounded like a pro on our first broadcast!”
    â€œBroadcast? What are you talking about?” She sighed loudly as the signal light turned red and her vehicle was still eight cars away from the intersection.
    Having been raised in a family who took an interest in everything Javier did, he was puzzled by Feliz’s ignorance. “It’s our new elective: Broadcast Media.