Nothing Else Matters

by Leslie DuBois

  "What are you doing?" She snatched her hand away as if my touch were fire. Her eyes grew wide with a look of fear tinged with confusion.

  "I'm just asking a question."

  Reyna stood and brushed the sand off of her white leather pants. "This is not a game, Scottie. I am not one to be played," she said, hustling back toward the house.

  I jumped up to try to follow her, but another muscle spasm paralyzed me.

  Chapter 5

  "How was the game?" Walter Lewis asked his daughter when she entered their town house.

  "Fine. We won." She took off her coveted Puerto Rican flag scarf and joined her father at the kitchen table where he had spread out numerous bills and important looking documents.

  "Great! Congratulations. I tell you that quarterback of yours is unstoppable in the clutch. He's gonna —"

  "He's not my quarterback," Reyna snapped.

  Walter looked up from his papers, seemingly caught off guard by Reyna's uncharacteristic attitude. He took off his glasses and folded his hands in front of him. "I didn't mean you particularly. I meant Charleston Prep's."

  "Oh."

  "What's with the tone? You seem a bit defensive."

  "I'm sorry, Daddy."

  "Is there anything you want to talk about?" Walter pushed away his current project and gave his daughter his full attention.

  Reyna took in a deep breath and puffed out her cheeks. "I think Scott wanted to kiss me tonight," she said as she let out the air.

  "And?"

  "What do you mean ‘and'? It's ... it's weird."

  “I can remember a time when you wouldn't have thought it was so weird."

  Reyna blushed thinking about the huge crush she had on him back in the sixth grade. She remembered she was even able to manipulate him into a first kiss. "Well that was a long time ago. Things change." Reyna crossed her arms and slouched a little in the chair. Soon after that first kiss, Scott became some sort of sports god and girls were lining up to kiss him. She refused to join the line. So she forced herself only to see him as a friend. "What's so funny, Daddy?" she asked when she noticed a huge grin across her father's face.

  "You are so much like your mother. Always trying to control everything, even emotions." He clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "You know I chased her for two years before she agreed to go out with me. But three months after that first date, we were married. You know the saying ‘once you go black you never go back.'"

  Reyna couldn't help but smile at her father's confidence even though she knew the true story of her parents meeting. Her father was a tall skinny nerd who had moved to Puerto Rico after college in order to help build a recreation center in the poor village where her mother lived. He wanted to build a place for the young people to go and stay out of trouble. That was her father's mission in life, to save the world one rec center at a time. Walter fell in love with Francesca Romero, one of the local volunteers. He was so in love with her that he stayed in the town for two years after the facility was built just so he could pursue her. What Walter didn't know was that Francesca wasn't being stubborn when she refused to date him. She was actually obeying her parents' wishes to stay away from the American black boy. Reyna only knew because La Cienega told her.

  It pained her to realize that though her mother's parents lived in a shack in one of the poorest sections of Puerto Rico, they still thought they were too good for her father just because of the color of his skin.

  "Daddy, how come you haven't dated anyone else since her death?" Reyna asked after a moment.

  Walter Lewis cleared his throat and put his glasses back on. "My father's money is running low," he said as he started shifting papers around the table. "I have to find a way to squeeze out a few thousand dollars from somewhere to repave the basketball court on our 7th street center."

  Reyna stood from the table and walked around to embrace her father. "It wasn't your fault, Daddy."

  "Thank you, Sweetheart," he said after shutting his eyes tightly to block the tears. "It wasn't your fault either." Reyna didn't share that belief. She would always blame herself for her mother's death. She released her father and walked into the kitchen."You want me to make you something to eat?"

  "Reyna, it's almost midnight. I want you to get some sleep. You don't sleep enough."

  Reyna shook her head. "I want to work on some Calculus tonight. I won't stay up too long though."

  "It's Friday night. There should be laws against doing Calculus on a Friday night. Well, why don't you take tomorrow off? We should be fine at the center without you for one Saturday. Go see a movie or something with Scottie."

  "No way. I'm having an early study session tomorrow with some of the black students at Charleston Prep. They're having a tough time with the transition from public school," she said, opening the refrigerator and taking out a bottle of water.

  Walter shook his head. "Reyna, you can't personally ensure that every black student at Charleston Prep makes the honor roll. At some point these kids have to take responsibility for their own grades."

  "But Daddy, everyone needs a role model or mentor at some point, especially these kids. I mean, I hate to say it, but some of the black students that Charleston Prep admits are not prepared for such a rigorous academic environment. They just admit them to make their diversity numbers look good and then do nothing to support them academically. Then within a year or two they're on academic probation and end up flunking out. Or they're able to squeak by with D's and then face failure in college. Now when a white student is failing at Charleston prep do you know what happens? I'll tell you what happens. Their rich old Charleston money parents buy them tutors for every subject to get them through the school year. Well, some of the black students can't afford that so, you know what? I'll be their tutor in every subject if I have to be."

  Reyna beat her plastic bottle of water against the kitchen counter emphatically with each sentence trying to drive home her point.

  “You know, Reyna, Charleston Preparatory School isn’t all about grades. They seek to develop unique, well-rounded students. Maybe the students aren’t admitted because they’re black, but because they have a special talent. That’s part of the reason I chose that school for you.”

  She nodded at that fact. Charleston Prep was a very progressive school that fostered a community of individuality. They were the only private school in the Charleston Area that didn’t require uniforms and afforded their students almost limitless freedom. Charleston Prep had very few rules.

  “That may be true, Daddy, but it is still a college preparatory school. No matter how well you can sing, or dance, or toss a football you still need to be able to pass geometry if you’re going to make it in college.”

  "Okay, Okay, I see your point. I didn't mean to get you started on one of your tangents. I just wanted you to take a break. That's all. Why don't you and Scottie go to a movie tomorrow after your study session?”

  "That'll never happen," Reyna said after chuckling to herself. She took a swig of water and said, "First of all, there is no time for movies on a Saturday at the Kincaid house. It's like a Rocky training video at that place." After reaching into the pantry and pulling out a bag of chips she added, "Second of all, it would never be allowed. Sam Kincaid hates me."

  Reyna kissed her father, and then dashed upstairs with her chips and water.

  After two hours of drilling herself on derivatives, Reyna still wasn't tired. Normally she would pick up the phone and call Scott. He would pretend he wasn't asleep either and they would talk till the wee hours of the morning until she could hear him snoring on the other end. But tonight it felt too weird to do that. She was afraid he would bring up his question again. Why had they never dated? She had convinced herself for so many years that he was just a friend and that she didn't want to see him as more. She didn't want to be one of his silly blonde bimbo gold-digging girlfriends. She was better than that. And she knew Scott didn't see her that way. So there had to be another reas
on. There was something else holding her back from falling for him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something that made Scott Kincaid off limits.

  Chapter 6

  It took me over an hour before I felt strong enough to walk off the beach outside of Andrew’s place without giving away my ailment. Then I ran into Amber and had to comfort her before I could make a clean break. For some reason, I decided to reassure her of our relationship instead of breaking it off right then and there like I wanted to. I didn't want to completely wreck her. Obviously that girl was about as nutty as a squirrel's intestines.

  When I got home from the costume/victory party, I found my little brother in my room playing my Xbox.

  "Wanna play?" Stu asked without taking his eyes off the flat screen TV, a gift from Sam after I threw a no-hitter last baseball season.

  Even though it was already almost two in the morning, I would never turn down a chance to show Stu a little attention. It was something our mother always failed to do.

  "That was a great game, Scott. I'm sorry Sam's not happy about it."

  "That's all right. You know as well as I do she's hard to please." I reset the racing game and picked up the extra controller.

  "Yeah, I know." Stu continued to stare at the television.

  "So, what's up, little buddy? Why are you really in my room at two o'clock in the morning? You don't even like this game." I studied my little brother as I waited for a response, wondering how we could be so different. At fifteen, Stu was very mature for his age. He was a sensitive soul that worked through his anxiety with music. Even though he sported a Goth look complete with died black hair and black nail polish, he was an excellent musician who played piano, flute, cello and guitar. I admired his ability to defy Sam and be different.

  "I wrote a song for the school band. We're gonna play it at the winter concert," he said after a few moments.

  "That's awesome, Stu. That's amazing." I paused the game and looked at my brother. "I didn't know you wrote music, too. I just thought you played instruments."

  Stu didn't respond to my adulation. He continued to stare in front of him. "I told Sam. She laughed at me."

  "I'm sorry, Stu. She just doesn't understand."

  "Or maybe she just doesn't love me as much as she loves you."

  Love? Was it really love that motivated Sam to drive me to the brink of exhaustion day in and day out? I had never really thought about it. Over the years, I had just come to accept our way of life. I knew it wasn't normal. But what is a normal relationship for a teenager and their parent? I didn't know the answer to that, but sometimes I did envy the close relationship Reyna had with her father. She told him everything and he always listened to her problems without being the least bit overbearing and deciding what she should do for her. He gave her options and let her find her own path in life while supporting her decisions.

  "Stu, that's not —"

  "Whatever. It’s not like I need her approval." He stood to leave. “I thought you might be drinking tonight so, I left a urine sample in your bathroom in case she asks for one in the morning. You should rest. Sam's got a long day planned."

  I tried to rest, but I couldn't. I just kept thinking of Reyna. Why would she think I was playing her? Had I really turned into that guy? The stereotypical, shallow jock that turned out to be the jerk in every teen movie ever made? If that was the case, Reyna would never date me. After fighting stereotypes every day of her life, she would never succumb to dating one.

  I rolled over and looked at the clock. 2:45. I wondered what she was doing. She was probably up studying. Reyna Luz Lewis, the only high schoolgirl I know who would do homework on a Friday night. I wanted to call her. I wanted to see her. And more than anything, I wanted to kiss her.

  Chapter 7

  Nov. 1

  At five in the morning, Reyna gave up on trying to sleep. Instead she rose from her bed and started working on the "I Voted" buttons she had decided to make for every teacher and student at Charleston Prep that voted. That was another one of her missions, to make sure that everyone possible fulfilled their civic duty. She had posted flyers, held registration drives, and even personally called each student that was over eighteen to convince them to vote. During this process she never influenced people on who they should vote for. She was completely neutral at school, but on Sundays she volunteered for the Obama campaign.

  Thankfully, Charleston Prep was a relatively small private school with only 83 seniors eligible to vote and almost 200 faculty and staff. Given that she had been working on these buttons for two weeks, she was nearly done. After finishing the last one, she looked at the clock. Scottie was probably already up and getting ready to run the Ravenel Bridge. She wondered if he would swing by the center later. He did that sometimes.

  Reyna placed the buttons in a box, and then sat back down at her desk. She sighed, desperately wanting something to do so that she would stop thinking of Scott. She reached for one of her medical textbooks and flipped it open to a random page. Though it was a disease she was already familiar with, she continued reading anyway. She had read every book in her collection cover to cover when she couldn't sleep at night and was slowly becoming an expert in rare diseases. She wished she had developed this habit before her mother died. But then again she had been only five.

  She wondered if she would be able find anything about what had been ailing Scott. Ugh, she was thinking about him again. She slammed her book shut and got ready to head to the center.

  Reyna turned the key to the Raymond Lewis learning center on America Street in downtown Charleston. Nothing happened. Jammed again, she thought. She pounded her fist on the door in frustration. The center named for her late grandfather frequently had problems with this door. It was still a little dark outside, which unfortunately made her nervous. America Street was one of the most dangerous areas in Charleston. She hated feeling afraid around her own people, but she did. The center had been robbed three times already and she didn't want to have to hang around outside and wait for a locksmith or someone to help her in. Instead, she walked around to the side of the building and found a window that was probably unlatched. She built up three milk crates, climbed them, and then forced the window open. As she dangled half in the window and half out an eerie feeling befell her. It was kind of like déjà vu but in reverse. It felt like a future memory.

  It took a great deal of upper body strength but she somehow managed to pull herself up and crawl through the window. She was grateful for the pull-ups Scott made her do when she sat in on practice with the football team sometimes.

  Once in the building, she was able to jimmy the door open from the inside to let in the students for the Saturday help session. Reyna started this Saturday ritual three years ago when she noticed that the black students consistently made lower grades. She also noticed that the white students had more access to help. She decided she wanted to level the playing field. Three years later, nine of the twelve black students were on honor roll or Headmaster's list. And she and Clayton, another black student, were candidates for Valedictorian.

  "I can't do this, Reyna. I'm stupid," Shawan said with tears in her eyes.

  "You're not stupid and I don't ever want to hear you say that again." Reyna sat down next to Shawan at the table cluttered with geometry books and notes. She wrapped her arm around her and let her cry. "Look, you're gonna get the hang of it. We'll figure it out together," Reyna assured her as she wiped the tears off of Shawan's chubby round cheeks. She knew how overwhelmed she felt. Reyna could remember her first few weeks at Charleston Prep in the sixth grade. She felt lonely, unsure, and lost. If it hadn't been for Scottie's reassuring friendship she may have crumbled under the pressure as well. He probably didn't even know what an effect he had on her.

  Sometimes teachers didn't realize that every factor of a teenager's life played into their academic performance when they piled on the work. Shawan might never succeed at Charleston Prep if she didn’t feel she fit in or didn’t feel comf
ortable. Reyna wanted to make sure she got the reassurance she needed.

  After giving her a few more problems to work on, Reyna made her way to another table where two freshmen worked on Physics. Andrea, a brilliant, highly motivated, and determined girl, helped Tommy with a projectile motion problem. Unfortunately, Reyna noticed that Tommy was more interested in the physics of Andrea's bra than anything else. She could tell he would probably be asking her to the Fall Ball. Not a bad call for Tommy. Andrea was pretty cute and very curvy for a 14-year-old. But right now, he needed to concentrate on his grades.

  "Tommy, eyes on the book." Reyna gave a stern warning, then went and sat next to John and Troy. "Hey guys, what are we working on?”

  "Latin test on Monday. We're quizzing each other on verb conjugations," Troy began. He went into some other details, but Reyna found it hard to focus on his words. Her thoughts were back on the Fall Ball. She wondered who she would go with. She nearly jumped out of her skin when an image of Scott popped into her mind. They had never gone to a school dance together before. She shook off the thought and tried to concentrate on Latin verbs.

  ***

  I awoke to pounding on my door at five in the morning. I didn't even have to guess who it was.

  "All right, rise and shine," Sam said as she opened the blinds. A pretty pointless gesture since it was still dark outside. "Pee in the cup and meet me in the weight room in ten minutes."

  It didn't even occur to me to protest. It would do no good to tell Sam I wasn't in the mood or too tired to work out. And heaven forbid I tell my mother I was in pain and had been in pain one way or another for several months. I dreaded that day and hoped it would never come. Deep inside me, I hoped that this pain was a phase like a growing pain and that it would just go away with time. I would go off to a top school, get drafted into the NFL or MLB, and maybe win her a gold medal in something or another. Everything would go back to normal. Sam and I had a plan.