Don't Call Me Hero

by Ray Villareal

  Rawly turned as Iris Solís and another girl neared their table.

  Nevin stood. He pretended to remove a hat and bowed. “Good evening, señoritas. Would you do us the honor of joining us at our humble table?”

  Iris said, “Nevin Steinberg, Rawly Sánchez, this is my cousin, Miyoko Elena Chávez.”

  Nevin bowed again. “A pleasure to meet you, señorita.”

  Miyoko threw back her long, jet-black hair and greeted them.

  Rawly had seen Miyoko at school, but since they didn’t share classes, he had never spoken to her. He had often wanted to talk to Miyoko, but he always chickened out. He usually did when it came to meeting pretty girls.

  “Sientay, sientay, por favor,” Nevin said, mangling the little Spanish he knew. He pulled out two chairs.

  Rawly’s heart leaped when Iris’s gorgeous cousin sat next to him. “Mi-yo-ko,” he said. “Sounds Japanese.”

  “It is,” Miyoko said. “My mom’s Japanese.”

  “Really?” Nevin said. “My mom’s Sofatshese.”

  “Sofatshese?” Miyoko asked. “What’s that?”

  “You know, my mama’s so fat she’s been declared the fifty-first state.”

  The girls laughed. Rawly, who had long lost his appreciation for Nevin’s sense of humor, rolled his eyes.

  “My name means ‘beautiful generation child,’” Miyoko explained. “At least, that’s what my mom told me.”

  Nevin patted her hand and winked. “Mama definitely knew what she was doing when she gave you that name.”

  Miyoko blushed.

  “What are you girls doing here?” Rawly asked, wanting to get in the conversation.

  Iris pushed aside a banana split dish and sat a small Hot Topic bag on the table. “Just hangin’. You?”

  Nevin quickly interjected, “Rawly brought me to see a scalp doctor. I have a terrible rash on my head. Listen.” He pretended to scratch his head. With his other hand, he scraped his fingernails on the bottom of the table, making a loud, grating sound. “My scalp feels like sandpaper.”

  Miyoko laughed. “You’re funny.”

  “It runs in the family,” Nevin said. “My grandma’s part hyena.” He made laughing hyena sounds.

  Miyoko laughed again.

  Rawly loved the sound of her voice. And the way her half-moon eyes sparkled when she laughed!

  “We were on our way to Ghouls & More to check out the Halloween costumes,” Miyoko said. “You guys want to join us?”

  Rawly wished he could accept her invitation. He’d love to get to know the “beautiful generation child” better, but he had to decline. “Sorry,” he said. “I have to work tonight. My mom owns a restaurant, and I have to help out.”

  “Really?” Iris sounded impressed. “Which one?”

  “La Chichen-Itza on West Jefferson,” Rawly said.

  “La Chichen-Itzaaa, cha-cha-cha,” Nevin sang and danced in his chair. “Specializing in chicken pizzaaa, cha-cha-cha.”

  Rawly looked at the time. It was almost five-thirty. He promised his mom he’d be at the restaurant by six. He rose from his chair. “Sorry, but we’ve got to go.”

  Nevin frowned. “Dude, are you kidding? We’ve just been offered an invitation to party with two charming and lovely señoritas.” He wrapped his arms around the girls. “You go ahead. I think I’ll stay for a while.”

  Rawly couldn’t believe it. Nevin had asked him—begged him—to come to the mall to help him pick out a suit for his sister’s wedding. Rawly had even bought him a banana split. Now Nevin was abandoning him. Worse, he was going to spend the evening with Iris and Miyoko while he had to work all night cleaning tables.

  Rawly excused himself. As he made his way out of the food court, Nevin mocked in a singsong voice, “See ya. Wouldn’t wanna be ya!”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  On Monday morning, Rawly was on his way to the cafeteria when Nevin suddenly darted past him. Travis McHenry and three other guys were chasing him.

  “I’m gonna getcha, Steinberg!” Travis hollered.

  For a second, Rawly considered joining Nevin in case he needed help, but the thought vanished as quickly as it came. Rawly was no hero. He had never even been in a fight. Travis and his gang would make dead meat out of him if he tried to butt in. Anyway, he figured Nevin would get out of whatever trouble he had gotten himself into. He always did.

  Rawly spotted Miyoko and Iris standing in front of a bulletin board near the main office. His heart fluttered. He walked up and said, “Hi, Miyoko, remember me?”

  She gave him a blank look. Then she smiled and said, “Oh, hi. Sure, you’re Nevin’s friend from the mall the other night.”

  Nevin’s friend.

  She didn’t know his name. Rawly wished she had answered with something like, “Of course I remember you. You’re Rawly Sánchez, the cute guy I met at the mall, who was sitting at the food court with that silly, immature kid.”

  “This is Rawly,” Iris reminded her.

  “Actually, my name’s Rolando,” Rawly said. “When I was little, my parents used to call me Rollie for short. But when I got to school, I spelled Rollie the way it sounded to me—R-A-W-L-Y. Anyway, the name stuck, so now I’m Rawly.”

  Miyoko listened with indifference.

  Rawly wanted to say something clever, something funny, that would make her laugh the way Nevin had done, but nothing came to mind. No jokes, no witty remarks. The next words out of his mouth were, “What are you girls doing standing here? Aren’t you going to lunch?”

  Man, that is so lame. I sound like a hall monitor accusing them of not being where they’re supposed to be.

  Miyoko pointed to the bulletin board. “We were reading the flyer for Open Mic Nite. We’re thinking about trying out for it.”

  “Really? Do you have any talent?” Rawly asked.

  Oh, brother, what a stupid thing to say. Of course she has talent. Otherwise, why would she be considering auditioning for Open Mic Nite?

  “I play the guitar,” Miyoko said. “And I sing a little.”

  “I bet you’re good,” Rawly said.

  Miyoko flipped her hand in a side-to-side motion. “Más o menos.”

  “I play the clarinet,” Iris said. “I’m in the band, you know.”

  Rawly ignored her. Mustering up his nerve, he told Miyoko, “I was on my way to lunch. Want to join me?”

  “Sure,” Iris answered right away.

  “You go ahead,” Miyoko said. “I need to talk to Mr. Mondragón about something.”

  You’re the one I was inviting, Rawly thought. I don’t want to eat lunch with Iris Solís.

  At that moment, Nevin appeared from around the corner and stopped in front of them, gasping for air.

  “What happened?” Rawly asked. “Why were those guys after you?”

  Nevin took a couple of deep breaths. “Dude . . . some people . . . just don’t have . . . a sense of humor. All I did was ask Travis McHenry to smell my elbow. It wasn’t my fault he ran his nose into it.”

  “Hi, Nevin,” Miyoko said.

  He bowed. “Hola, señorita. ¿Cómo estar?”

  “It’s cómo estás,” Rawly corrected him.

  Miyoko’s face lit up. “Nevin, have you seen this?” She pointed to the Open Mic Nite flyer. “You should try out for it. I think you’d be great onstage. Maybe you could do a comedy routine or something.”

  Nevin acted surprised. “A comedy routine? Why? Do you think I’m funny?”

  “I think you’re hilarious,” Miyoko said. “The kids will eat it up.”

  Nevin’s face grew serious. He looked down and shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Miyoko asked.

  “I . . . I’d rather not talk about it.” Nevin’s face crumpled

  “Nevin? Is something wrong?” Miyoko asked with concern.

  Nevin cupped his hands over his face. “I went to see the doctor yesterday, and . . . and . . . ” He sniffled.

  Miyoko gasped. “Nevin, what is it?”
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br />   Rawly remained skeptical. Miyoko had just met Nevin, but he’d known him for a while. He had a feeling Nevin was setting her up.

  “The doctor told me . . . ” Nevin’s lower lip quivered. “He told me . . . ”

  “What, Nevin?” Miyoko’s eyes grew misty. “What did the doctor tell you?”

  “He said I have a growth . . . ” Nevin gulped. “ . . . outside my brain.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true!” Nevin began to bawl. “He called it a . . . a . . . c-c-cranium!”

  “Oh, no!”

  A confused expression filled Iris’s face. “Wait a minute. We all have craniums.”

  Nevin stopped crying. “We do?”

  “It’s the part of the skull that encloses the brain.” Iris looked at Rawly. “Isn’t it?”

  “So there’s nothing wrong with me?” A false sense of relief washed over Nevin.

  Rawly rolled his eyes.

  Nevin threw his hands up in the air and bounced up and down. “Glory, halleluiah! I’m all right! I’m all right!”

  Miyoko playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, Nevin, you had me so scared.”

  “Aw, don’t pay any attention to me. I was only serious.”

  “You mean you were only . . . ” Miyoko stopped. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You’ll steal the show.”

  “How about you, Rawly?” Iris asked. “Do you have some hidden talent we don’t know about?”

  “He sure does,” Nevin said. “Rawly’s a magician. He can make good grades disappear just like that,” Nevin added with a snap of his fingers. “And this Saturday, he’s going to start attending algebra tutoring class to learn part two of the magic trick. How to bring those good grades back.”

  “You too?” Miyoko said glumly. “That’s why I was on my way to see Mr. Mondragón. He’s making me go to Saturday tutoring.”

  “Really?” Rawly said with a lilt in his voice.

  Algebra tutoring just became a lot more pleasant.

  Nevin wrapped an arm around Miyoko and escorted her down the hallway. “No need to see the Dragon Man, my dear. Professor Steinberg will personally tutor you on the fine art of mathematics. By the way, do you read Batman comics?”

  Iris turned to Rawly. “You going to lunch?”

  “Yeah, I suppose,” he said with a sigh.

  They followed Nevin and Miyoko to the cafeteria.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After school, Rawly and Nevin got off the DART bus at the intersection of Zang and West Jefferson and headed for Heroes & Villains, a comic book store that specialized in graphic novels and collectible action figures. Sometimes they stopped there on their way to La Chichen-Itza. The restaurant was located two blocks down, past the old Texas Theater, where President Kennedy’s alleged assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, had been captured.

  Life-size statues of Superman and Batman stood like guards at the entrance of Heroes & Villains. In the middle left side of the store, just below the ceiling, a Spider-Man figure clung to the wall. He was shooting his webbing at a Green Goblin figure, stationed on the opposite end.

  A glass case at the front of the store housed a variety of collectible statues and busts of comic book figures—the Incredible Hulk, Doctor Doom, the Submariner, Captain America and the Mighty Thor on the top shelf—Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, Lex Luthor and the Joker on the bottom. Less expensive plastic action figures stood on shelves or hung on metal racks in each aisle.

  Cardboard boxes, filled with thousands of old comic books, sat on tables, which were situated in a maze-like fashion throughout the store. The newer issues were lined in magazine racks along the walls. Graphic novels, including manga, were shelved in bookcases.

  Sid Lundy, the owner of Heroes & Villains, greeted the boys when they walked in. He wore a blue T-shirt with a picture of Captain America’s shield on the front. A pair of black suspenders, decorated with tiny Batman insignias, held up his brown trousers.

  “The Dallas Comic Con’s taking place in a couple of weeks,” Sid announced, handing the boys a flyer promoting the event. “Kenny O’Brien’s going to be there. So are Jack Corrigan, Tim Soo and Alexi Malenkov.” Sid’s eyes crinkled mirthfully. “And guess who’s going to lead a panel discussion?” Without waiting for an answer, he blurted out, “Johnny Romita Junior! Can you believe it? Jazzy Johnny Romita himself!” Sid folded his arms on the counter and smiled.

  “Wow, Sid!” Nevin replied with delight. “Really? You’re right. I can’t believe it. When did you say the event’s taking place?”

  Sid picked up another flyer from the counter and pointed at it. “October twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth. Tickets are only fifteen dollars.”

  “That’s fantastic, dude,” Nevin said. “Thanks for letting us know. I can hardly wait.”

  When they walked away, Nevin whispered to Rawly, “Who are all those guys Sid was talking about? And what the heck is The Dallas Comic Con?”

  Rawly made a face to show he disapproved of the way Nevin had led Sid on. “They’re comic book artists. The Dallas Comic Con’s a comic book convention where fans get to meet famous comic book writers and illustrators. Tons of movie celebrities usually show up, too.”

  “Yeah? Like who?”

  Rawly glanced at his flyer. “It says here that Thomas Hayden Church is going to be signing autographs on the twenty-sixth.”

  “Should that name ring a bell?” Nevin asked. Comic books had never captured his interest. The only times he went inside Heroes & Villains was with Rawly. He did like the monster toys the store sold, though. Nevin had acquired a sizable collection of horror action figures, much to his mother’s disapproval. She often complained to her husband about Nevin’s “obsession” with the macabre.

  “Thomas Hayden Church is the guy who played Sandman in Spider-Man 3,” Rawly explained. “And it says here that Linda Blair’s making an appearance, too.”

  “Oh, I know who she is,” Nevin said. “She’s the chick from The Exorcist with the spinning head and the pea-soup vomit.”

  Rawly smiled and nodded.

  “So who’s this Johnny Comida guy that Sid was salivating over?” Nevin asked.

  “It’s not Comida. It’s Romita,” Rawly said.

  “Well, I’m thinking comida ’cause I’m starving.” Nevin patted his stomach. “When are we going to eat?”

  “In a little bit,” Rawly said. “Johnny Romita Junior and his father, Johnny Romita Senior are legends in Marvel Comics. Come here. I want to show you something.” Rawly led Nevin to a bookshelf and pulled out a copy of Essential Spider-Man Volume 2. “Johnny Romita Senior was the second artist to draw Spider-Man, after Steve Ditko left the company.” Rawly flipped open the book and thumbed through it. “Romita Senior took over the series with issue thirty-nine. That’s where the Green Goblin discovered that Peter Parker was really Spider-Man. Romita is also the one who finally revealed what Mary Jane Watson looked like.” Rawly turned the pages. “See? Here she is. ‘Face it, Tiger. You just hit the jackpot!’” he read. “Johnny Romita Junior also worked on Spider-Man, as well as Daredevil, X-Men, and Thor.”

  Rawly talked comics the way other guys discussed sports or movies or TV shows. He could rattle off millions of bits of trivia about them. Nevin tried to listen patiently, but his mind wandered as Rawly prattled on.

  “Jack Kirby . . . blah, blah, blah . . . Marvel Universe . . . blah, blah, blah . . . New Avengers . . . blah, blah, blah . . . Dr. Strange . . . blah, blah, blah . . . and this is the Civil War series where Congress passed the Superhuman Registration Act that forced superheroes to unmask. And over here—”

  “Whoa, dude. Slow down,” Nevin cried. He clapped his hands over his head. “My brain’s on fire. It can’t absorb all that knowledge at one time.”

  “Sorry.” Rawly placed the book back on the shelf. “I was just trying to give you a little background information on some of the characters.”

  Nevin wobbled his head in an exaggerated manner. “Background information
I can handle, but you’re trying to cram a whole college course on comic book history into my head.”

  Rawly faked a smile. It was a waste of time trying to explain comic books to Nevin. He didn’t have any appreciation for them. Most of the guys at school didn’t, either. Sure, they’d all seen the superhero movies and had watched the cartoons on TV, but did any of them know the mythology behind the characters? Would any of them know who Rawly was talking about if he mentioned the names Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster? The only people Rawly felt comfortable discussing comic books with were Jaime and Sid Lundy. Jaime was the one who had introduced him to Heroes & Villains.

  Rawly walked down the next aisle to see if the latest issue of Teen Titans had arrived. While he looked for it, Nevin picked up an action figure of The Thing from the Fantastic Four and one of the She Hulk. He pressed their faces together as if they were kissing.

  “Hey, dude, what kind of babies do you think The Thing and this green chick would make if they got married?”

  Rawly pretended not to hear. He searched the magazine racks but didn’t find what he was looking for. He picked up an issue of The Flash and thumbed through it. He thought about Jaime’s superhero, El Torbellino. It would be cool if Jaime could write and illustrate the story and get his comic book published. Maybe Sid could carry copies of it in his store.

  Nevin placed the action figures back on the shelf. His eyes were drawn to a comic book cover that featured a female Asian warrior named Yui Tanaka. He picked up the comic book and flipped through it. Then he held it in front of Rawly’s face. “Hey, dude, do you think this chick looks like Miyoko Elena?”

  Rawly stepped back to get a better look. The girl in the comic book had long black hair that hung in waves down her back. She was dressed in a red halter top with a matching bikini bottom. Black boots rose up her legs and stopped just above her knees. A gold band was wrapped around her head. She was swinging a long-handled Japanese samurai sword at orange and black creatures that looked like giant grasshoppers.

  “Yeah, a little,” Rawly said, smiling. “She’s kind of hot.”

  Nevin blinked with surprise. “Whoa, dude. Did you just say Miyoko was hot?”