Page 47 of Cemetery Boys

He wasn’t back to 100 percent, but he was getting there, and Yadriel would take what he could get. “Maybe work on the impulse control while you’re at it.”

Julian let out a short laugh. “Noted.”

“Great, now that the pity party is over—” Maritza slipped between them. Julian rolled his eyes at Yadriel over the top of her head, and he couldn’t help but grin back. “We need to stop by my place so I can drop off my crap. Can’t go running the streets of East LA like hoodlums if I’m weighed down by my chemistry textbook,” she said, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulder for emphasis.

Luckily, Maritza’s family lived one block over from the cemetery, so it was a quick stop on the way. It was a squat yellow house with a chain-link fence wrapped around it. The gate had a BEWARE OF DOGS sign, and both her parents’ cars were parked in the driveway.

“You stay here,” Maritza told Julian, pointing to her mom’s silver minivan.

Julian made a disgruntled noise. “How long is this gonna take?”

“We’ll be in and out.”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Stay out of sight,” Yadriel told him. “And if anyone looks at you, then they’re probably a brujx, so just act like a spirit—”

Julian squinted. “But I am a spirit—”

“Just don’t look suspicious, okay?”

Julian looked around, clearly not sure what to do with himself.

“Never mind, just”—Yadriel flapped his hands at him—“just hide behind the van and we’ll be right back!”

Julian rolled his eyes, but he did what he was told and crouched down behind the dusty van. “I don’t see how this isn’t suspicious, but okay,” he muttered.

“We’ll be right back!” Yadriel repeated as he shoved Maritza toward the house.

“I’m home!” she shouted once they got inside, chucking her backpack onto the couch.

“In here!” Maritza’s mother called.

Yadriel followed Maritza into the kitchen. Tía Sofia stood at the stove over a pot of brown syrup that smelled sticky and sweet. Another large metal pot sat covered next to it, spilling steam from its sides.

Maritza’s older sister, Paola, sat at the kitchen table. She had two huge textbooks opened up, along with a notebook. Paola was a med student at the nearby university. No matter how much of a rush she was in, Paola’s hair was always styled into a flawless wash-and-go. Black curls fell across her face as she bent over a notebook. She furiously took notes in between highlighting and placing color-coded Post-its.

The other half of the table was filled with portajes Tío Isaac was either repairing or building for various brujos. There were simple daggers scattered among the more elaborate choices of the younger brujos. Loud, rhythmic clanging cut through the air. The open door to the backyard revealed Tío Isaac, standing at his workbench as he hammered out a blade.

“How was school?” Tía Sofia asked, sparing them a glance as she grated piloncillo into the syrup. On tin foil next to her sat orange cubes of calabaza en tacha—candied pumpkin.

“Lame, as usual,” Maritza said, making a beeline for the tray. She snatched up a piece of pumpkin and tossed it into her mouth.

“¡Ay, ten cuidado!” Tía Sofia warned, but it was too late.

Maritza danced in place, waving at her mouth. “Ah, hot!” She spat the scalding pumpkin out, and it fell, with a wet plop, onto one of Paola’s textbooks.

Paola gasped, her pretty face twisting into a snarl. “Seriously, Maritza?!” She smacked Maritza on the butt before scooping off the offending pumpkin and throwing it in the sink.

“Ow! I didn’t mean to!” Maritza scowled.

“Yeah, sure you didn’t!” Paola brushed the glob of syrup off the page.

“You are taking this way too seriously.”

“You don’t take school seriously enough!” Paola shot back. “What exactly do you plan on doing after you graduate if you can’t even heal?”

“Take up forging portajes, like Dad,” Maritza replied, as if it were obvious.