Maybe his mother was right. He should have let them save her. After all, it was their job.
Rawly was still shaking from his nightmare, but he resisted the urge to go to his mother’s room. He was fourteen years old, way too old to go crying to Mommy because he’d had a bad dream. Still, he wanted to talk to someone. He glanced at his digital clock. 2:36 it said. For a second, he considered calling Nevin. But it was the middle of the night. Also, he wasn’t sure where he stood with him, not after the way Nevin had been snubbing him.
“A picture’s worth a thousand words, my friend.”
Rawly thought about his brother. If Jaime was still living at home with them, Rawly would have woken him up and told him about his nightmare. Jaime wouldn’t have thought Rawly was a baby for being scared of a dream. He would have stayed up with him. They would chat until Rawly was so tired, he would fall asleep again. Rawly could always count on Jaime to comfort him.
Before his accident, Jaime seldom spent evenings at home. Their mother was usually working at the restaurant, and Rawly had grown accustomed to staying home alone.
Jaime would come in around ten-thirty, just before their mother did. Every once in a while, Rawly smelled alcohol on his brother’s breath, but he never mentioned it.
The guys Jaime hung out with, Aaron Camacho, Jorge Bautista and the others were rough, thuggish types. Sometimes they would come home with Jaime. Rawly would hear them talking and laughing in the living room.
One night, a friend of Jaime’s, a pimply-faced kid with blond highlights in his black hair named Eugene Castro, caught Rawly listening in on their conversation. He cussed Rawly out and told him to get lost.
Jaime scowled at Eugene. Then he calmly told Rawly to wait in his bedroom. A few minutes later, Jaime called Rawly back. Eugene had his head hung low. He apologized to Rawly for talking to him the way he did and promised never to do it again. Rawly never saw Eugene Castro after that.
Rawly didn’t feel like getting back into bed for another dose of creepy dreams. Since he was awake, he decided to write to his brother. He still hadn’t mailed him the newspaper article. Jaime would enjoy reading it. He would also get a kick out of seeing the Christopher Reeve/Rawly Sánchez double-panel picture.
A curious thought ran through Rawly’s mind. Jaime had taken a woman’s life, and he had saved a woman’s life. Coincidence? Or was this God’s way of evening things out? They say God works in mysterious ways. Maybe this was one of those mysterious ways. Rawly liked that idea. He thought Jaime might appreciate it, too. He decided to tell him about it in his letter.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rawly was apprehensive but excited about meeting Nikki Demetrius. After the disturbing dreams he’d had, he wasn’t sure what to expect when he met her. Also, his mother had been harping on him about asking the Demetriuses for money. This morning, they’d had a heated discussion over it.
“You let me handle things,” his mother said when Rawly tried to make her promise not to mention money during their visit. “I’m a businesswoman and Mr. Demetrius is a businessman. He’ll understand where we’re coming from.”
Rawly Googled Nikki’s name. His mother was right. Nikki Demetrius had made a ton of money working as a model. According to her official Web site, she was born in Athens, Greece, the daughter of Andrei and Anastasia Demetrius. They moved to New York City when she was eleven months old. At age eight, she and her family moved to Dallas, where her father opened his first jewelry store. Nikki Demetrius was discovered a year later by Elaine Blaise, the founder of the Blaise Modeling Agency. Ms. Blaise noticed Nikki at Demetrius Jewelers, when she went in to buy a gift for her mother. Since then, Nikki had appeared in hundreds of magazine covers. She also had a fashion jewelry line of rings, necklaces, bracelets and earrings, which her father helped design.
The photos Rawly saw of Nikki Demetrius on her Web site and on television looked nothing like the disheveled, water-soaked, injured woman he had pulled out of the creek. He looked forward to meeting her now that she’d had time to recover from her ordeal.
Over the years, Rawly had met a few minor celebrities who dined at La Chichen-Itza. The cast of a low-budget horror movie called Return to Darkness had eaten there because they were filming nearby. But this would be the first time Rawly would be going inside a celebrity’s home.
Out of curiosity, Rawly Googled his name. He was amazed by the number of news stories on the Internet about his rescue of Nikki Demetrius. Most of the articles referred to him as Rolando. A couple of others spelled his name Rollie, but Rawly didn’t mind. He was thrilled to see his name on the Internet, regardless of how it was spelled.
The following day started normal enough. On the bus, the kids were pleasant, and Rawly chatted with his fellow riders. Once he arrived at school, things turned weird. Andrea Marino and Nicole Chadima, who had been friendly the day before, stared icily at him and walked away when he said hello to them.
In English class, Coy Deeter whispered something in Michelle McCutcheon’s ear. Michelle made a face at Rawly and nodded.
What was going on?
After class, Coy told Rawly, “Don’t let it go to your head . . . hero.”
“Man, what an egomaniac,” Santiago added, and both he and Coy walked off.
Rawly stared at them, bewildered. What was that all about? They had been friendly on the bus. Now they were avoiding him, as if he had the plague.
In science class, someone had erased the top of Rawly’s head from the newspaper article that hung on the wall, and had enlarged it to twice its size. A caption read: Help! My head’s swelling up!
Daniel Vásquez stopped by Rawly’s desk and said, “What’s your problem, man? You’re not that big a deal.”
“Watch it, Daniel,” Travis McHenry said. “There’s no telling how much Rawly will charge you for talking to him.”
The guys laughed.
Rawly started to ask them what they meant, but Mr. Lazarski began calling roll. Rawly felt as if somehow, overnight, he had been transported to Bizarro World. In the Superman comics, Bizarro World was a planet called Htrae, Earth spelled backwards. The residents of Bizarro World did the reverse of people on Earth. Bizarro code stated: Us do opposite of all Earthly things. Us hate beauty. Us love ugliness. Is big crime to make anything perfect on Bizarro World!
The way the kids were acting toward him was the way a hero would be treated on Bizarro World.
While Rawly worked on an assignment about the interdependence and interrelationships of living things, Falesha Coe entered the science room and handed Mr. Lazarski a note.
Mr. Lazarski read it, then said, “Rawly, Mr. Hair would like to see you in his office right away.”
Rawly looked up from his worksheet. “Why? What’d I do?”
Snickering broke out.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Lazarski said. “But I’m sure Mr. Hair does.”
Rawly followed Falesha out the door. As they walked down the hallway he asked her, “Do you know what this is about?”
Falesha regarded him critically and said, “Maybe Mr. Hair wants to ask you for your autograph.”
Rawly was confused by the tone in her voice. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
Falesha didn’t answer. She picked up the pace and left Rawly behind.
Mr. Hair was waiting for him outside the main office. He greeted Rawly and shook his hand. “I enjoyed watching you on the Today show the other day,” he said. “Good job. You handled yourself quite well in front of the cameras.”
“Thank you, sir.” Rawly didn’t think he was in any trouble. But why did Mr. Hair pull him out of the middle of science class? Surely it wasn’t to congratulate him for being on TV.
“You’ve become quite a celebrity here at school,” Mr. Hair said. “I mean, it’s not every day that one of our students fishes a famous model out of a creek.” His voice tightened. “Still, we have policies and regulations that must be observed and obeyed. Being a celebrity does not entitle you special pri
vileges.”
“What do you mean, sir?” Rawly asked.
“Follow me.” Mr. Hair marched down the hallway.
At the entrance to the library, flyers were taped on each of the glass double doors that read: BUY MY PHOTOS. $10.00 UNSIGNED. $15.00 AUTOGRAPHED.
Above the doorway was a photograph of the double-panel picture that had appeared in the newspaper. The photograph was printed on 8X10 high-gloss photo paper. It was autographed, Simply Super! Your friend, Rawly Sánchez.
Rawly gawked in disbelief.
Mr. Hair peeled off the flyers and the photo. “Now, Rawly, I know you’re proud of what you did. I certainly am. But, son, you cannot sell these photographs in school.”
“I didn’t do that, sir!” Rawly insisted. “I’ve never even seen those flyers.”
“These aren’t the only ones.” Mr. Hair pulled out a bunch of folded papers from his coat pocket. “I’ve been going up and down each hallway, on all three floors, taking flyers down from the lockers.”
“I swear, Mr. Hair . . . ” Rawly stopped when he realized his words rhymed.
“I have more of them sitting on my desk.” Mr. Hair studied the photograph in his hand. “This picture is of a good quality, and I would hate to throw it away. You can have it back after school, but I don’t want you selling your photographs on campus, you hear?”
“But I wasn’t . . . ”
“You can stand across the street and sell your photographs there, although I would discourage you from selling them at all. However, if I catch you selling them on campus again, there will be severe repercussions. Is that clear?”
“But sir, I didn’t . . . ”
“Is that clear!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now go on back to class.”
It didn’t take Rawly long to figure out who was behind this. His suspicions were confirmed at lunchtime when he saw Nevin standing outside the cafeteria, waving a handful of photographs in the air.
“Photos of our hero!” Nevin announced. “Ten dollars or fifteen signed. Purchase either one, we really don’t mind!”
Rawly stormed up to him. “What are you doing, man?”
“Hiya, hero. You wanted to be famous, didn’t you? Well, I’m just helping you out.” Nevin turned to the kids and pointed at Rawly. “Here he is, ladies and gentlemen. North Oak Cliff High’s very own superhero, Rawly ‘Good Golly’ Sánchez!”
The kids gave Rawly dirty looks.
Nevin pulled out money from his pocket and slapped it in Rawly’s hand. “Here you go, hero. I’ve sold three photos for you.” He turned back to the crowd and continued chanting, “Photos of our hero! Ten dollars or fifteen signed. Purchase either one, we really don’t mind!”
Travis McHenry sneered at Rawly and said, “Man, what a loser. Trying to make money off somebody’s bad luck.”
“But I’m not selling the photographs,” Rawly told him.
“Of course you’re not,” Travis said. “You’ve got your idiot friend doing it for you.”
Daniel Vásquez said, “I can’t believe they found three kids dumb enough to buy those pictures.” He chuckled. “Hey, Nevin, have you got any of Rawly in the gorilla costume sitting on Miyoko’s guitar? I’ll give you a dollar for that one.”
“I’ll look into it, my friend,” Nevin said with a wink. “In the meantime, how’d you like one of these? I’ll let you have it for five dollars. And since Rawly’s here, he can autograph it for free. Right, hero?”
“I’m not signing anything,” Rawly fumed.
Nevin shrugged. “Sorry, Daniel, no free autographs. Rawly wants his money.”
“Give me those!” Rawly lunged for the photographs.
Nevin jumped back. “Nuh-uh! You’ll have to pay for them like everyone else.”
Rawly seized Nevin by the wrist and yanked the photographs out of his hand. As he pulled away, he accidentally smashed Nevin’s nose with his elbow.
Nevin grimaced in pain and reached for his nose as blood trickled out of it.
Mr. Hair, who was on his way to the cafeteria, saw the commotion. “What’s going on?”
Nevin began to bawl. He wiped his nose and smeared blood on his cheeks.“R-Rawly tried to make me buy one of his photographs, sir,” he said in a frightened voice. “And when I refused, he . . . he punched me in the nose!”
Rawly’s jaw fell open. “That’s a lie, Mr. Hair! I wasn’t selling the photographs. Nevin was.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nevin blubbered. “Then why do you have the photos and the money in your hand?”
Mr. Hair gave Rawly a searing look. “Come on. You’re going to the office!”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Rawly argued.
“Mr. Hair, can you call 9-1-1 for me?” Nevin whimpered. Blood had dripped down to his cream-colored polo shirt. “I need to go to the hospital.”
The principal made a quick assessment of Nevin’s condition. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. But you’d better let the nurse take a look at you.”
“I think my nose is broken,” Nevin said. “If I had known Rawly was this violent, I would have given him all the money I had.”
“You’re such a liar!” Rawly screamed.
Nevin hid behind the principal. “Tell him to stop yelling at me, sir. He’s scaring me.”
Mr. Hair got in Rawly’s face. “I’ve had just about enough out of you. Now settle down.” He snatched the photographs and the money out of Rawly’s hand and took the boys to his office.
As they walked down the hallway, Nevin smiled wickedly at Rawly and winked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Rawly got off the DART bus and made his way down Jefferson Boulevard. He groaned when he neared Heroes & Villains and saw his photograph taped to the window. He had been thrilled when he had first seen it on the Channel 12 News. Now the sight of the photo made his stomach turn.
Sid was standing behind the counter. He waved at Rawly and motioned for him to come inside, but Rawly ignored him and kept walking. He figured Sid was going to give him some more great advice on what it meant to be a hero.
Hero. Yeah, right.
Rawly was facing a three-day suspension for assault and for defying orders to stop selling photographs, even though he hadn’t assaulted anyone or sold any photographs.
He had tried to explain to Mr. Hair what happened, but the principal found it difficult to believe that anyone would go to all the trouble to print quality photographs, sell them at school and give Rawly thirty dollars in profit, just to get revenge for being left alone at the fair.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Mr. Hair told Rawly.
Of course it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense to anyone, except to Nevin Steinberg. Nevin denied knowing anything about the flyers and the photographs when Mr. Hair asked him about them.
While Rawly sat in Mr. Hair’s office, Nevin poked his head inside and threatened to sue the school if something wasn’t done to control the “madman” who had beaten him up for no reason.
Mr. Hair didn’t know Nevin personally, but he had heard stories about him from the teachers. There was an outside chance Rawly might be telling the truth, even if the truth defied logic. To play it safe, Mr. Hair wrote Rawly’s mother a note, saying that she needed to come in for a conference. He would make a final decision then.
When Rawly arrived at the restaurant, the first thing he noticed was the newspaper article hanging on the wall next to the cash register. His mother had gotten it professionally matted and framed.
She was talking to a party of five. As soon as she saw him, she stretched out her arms and announced, “Here he is. My son, the hero.”
The customers applauded.
Rawly’s face reddened.
His mother introduced him to the people at the table.
A man stood and shook Rawly’s hand. “I’ve never met a real hero before,” he said.
“That’s a real nice picture of you,” a woman said, pointing in the direction of the cash register
. “And what a great article. Congratulations, young man.”
“Rawly, these people came to eat here today after hearing about you on the news,” his mother told him.
“We’ve often passed by your restaurant, but we’ve never stopped in,” the man said. “We thought we’d try it today, hoping we might see the young man who saved Nikki Demetrius’s life. And here you are.”
A nine-year-old girl handed Rawly her child’s menu/activity coloring sheet. “Can I have your autograph?”
Rawly sighed.
His mother pulled a pen from her blazer pocket and gave it to him. “Go ahead,” she said, smiling.
Rawly scribbled his name on the sheet of paper.
“Thank you,” the little girl said. “I’m taking it to school tomorrow to show my friends.”
“Later this evening, we’ll be going to the Demetriuses’ mansion because they want to meet Rawly,” Mrs. Sánchez told the group.
They replied with ooohs of amazement.
“And I’ll tell you what else,” Mrs. Sánchez said, beaming. “Rawly doesn’t know this, but today he got a letter from the mayor’s office. The city wants to honor him for his bravery. Can you believe that?”
The people applauded.
Rawly should have jumped with joy. His heart should have burst with pride. This should have been great and exciting news. But after what happened at school with Nevin, after the way the kids had treated him, after the way Mr. Hair had talked to him, he didn’t want any more recognition. He just wanted to put the whole incident behind him.
He excused himself and went to the kitchen.
Fredo was standing behind the counter rolling enchiladas. He looked up and said, “There he is, Super Rawly!”
“Did you save anybody else today?” Gerardo the dishwasher asked.
“Maybe he saved a movie star this time,” Enrique said. “Another person with mucho dinero. Mucho, mucho dinero.” He smiled, revealing his gold teeth.
Rawly didn’t pay attention to them. He didn’t feel like dealing with their jokes. He asked Fredo to fix him something to eat.
Don't Call Me Hero Page 13
