Page 38 of Cemetery Boys

He crossed his arms. He was calmer, if a bit embarrassed.

“We talked it over and came to a compromise,” Maritza said.

“She threatened to put a curse on me,” Julian supplied.

Maritza shook out her curls and continued on, as if Julian hadn’t said anything. “Julian says he’ll behave himself and not cause any trouble.”

Yadriel’s skepticism must’ve showed, because she added, “Or he’ll suffer the consequences.”

Julian squinted up at Maritza. “I don’t know if I believe she can do that.” Then, to Yadriel. “Can she do that?”

“Probably best not to push your luck and find out,” Yadriel said.

The corner of Julian’s lips pulled into a smirk.

“Deal?” Maritza interrupted.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Julian stood, waving her off. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, no ghost stuff, no being a nuisance, blah, blah, blah. Now can we please go? I’ve been trapped in this room long enough!” Yadriel could practically feel Julian’s pent-up energy come off him in waves.

Yeah, leaving him here alone would definitely end in disaster.

“All right,” Yadriel sighed in concession. Julian’s face lit with a bright smile. “Just one second.” He grabbed his backpack and pulled out the mezcal and his portaje. “Last thing I need is to get caught by campus security with alcohol and a knife in my backpack.” Yadriel wrapped his portaje in a T-shirt and stuffed it into the bottom of the drawer in his bedside table. It was the only place he knew Lita’d steer clear of.

“Okay, let’s go.” Yadriel opened the door, but before Julian could step through, he held up a finger. “You two sneak out the front door while I distract Lita, okay?”

Maritza nodded. “Let’s go, dead boy,” she said to Julian.

He pretended to look offended, but he held his tongue for once and silently followed her down the stairs. Maybe he was a little worried about getting cursed.

SEVEN

Downstairs, Lita’s Tejano music blared from the kitchen. “I’ll meet you outside,” Yadriel whispered.

Julian gave a salute, and Maritza ushered him toward the door while Yadriel went into the kitchen.

He was met with the smell of rice and beans cooking on the stove. A metal espresso maker perched on a burner, filling the air with the smell of brown sugar and coffee. Loud music poured from a boom box propped on a chair, the old speakers giving it a tinny edge. Every morning, Lita woke up, brewed café cubano, and made food while she listened to the same CD over and over again.

The normal routine felt strange in comparison to the very abnormal events of the last twelve hours.

Lita stood at the sink, washing dishes. Her operatic bellowing along with the song made Yadriel flinch. “¡Como la flor!”

The song echoed back.

“¡Con tanto amor!”

“Morning, Lita!” he called over the noise.

“Vas a estar tarde a la escuela,” she sang. For as old as she was, Lita’s feet were still quick enough to keep step with the music, her hips swaying in time.

“I know, I know,” Yadriel said. He made to grab some food, but Lita caught his wrist and pulled him to her with surprising strength. Holding him tight, she danced and continued to croon loudly. Yadriel cringed but let her drag him around the kitchen table for the length of the chorus. At least there were no witnesses this time.

Singing and dancing around the kitchen used to be a group activity led by his mom. It always involved laughter and, of course, whiny resistance from him and Diego. Though Yadriel secretly enjoyed it and had just put on a show so his brother didn’t think he was a dork.

But now, the close proximity and Lita’s tight embrace felt suffocating. He squirmed until Lita finally released him.

Yadriel grabbed the wooden spoon and scooped up some rice and beans. He took a large bite, but as soon as it touched his tongue, sharp pain lit up the cut. Eyes watering, he forced himself to quickly swallow it down. He was starving, but he also needed to hurry and get to Maritza and Julian, so he dug through the Tupperware drawer. He could eat on the way to school.

On the counter sat a small, ancient TV showing the local Spanish news station. Yadriel paused, staring intently at the screen and reading the marquee and list of upcoming topics. The box next to the news anchor showed a live car chase through downtown. For Los Angeles, live car chases were about as reliable as the hourly weather update.