Page 52 of Cemetery Boys

He cleared his throat again and flipped through the pages, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest. He stole a couple of glances over at Julian. He’d said it so … “casually” wasn’t the right word, but maybe “easily” was. Whenever Yadriel came out to anyone, it was always an ordeal that he overthought and dragged out. It was nerve-racking, waiting to see someone’s reaction, whether they would reject him, or even understand what it meant when a trans boy said he was gay.

But not for Julian. He’d said it as almost a challenge. In a way that said he didn’t care what you thought.

It was both intimidating and impressive.

Yadriel found Luca Garcia, but instead of a photograph, it was just a black box with the words “NO PHOTO AVAILABLE” across in white.

“Oh.” Julian frowned at the blank picture. “He wasn’t there that day, I forgot. He was, uh, home sick.” He said it quickly and avoided making eye contact.

Yadriel raised an eyebrow at him, and red tinged Julian’s cheeks. He was clearly lying, but Yadriel didn’t get why. Seemed like an insignificant thing to lie about.

“Go to Omar’s,” Julian said, waving his hand at Yadriel to turn the page. “He was there. Omar Deye.”

Yadriel was tempted to push him for answers, but instead he shook his head and turned to the beginning of the D’s.

“He seems…” Yadriel trailed off.

“Like a jerk?” Julian chuckled. “Yeah, I know,” he said, with a tone of fondness and a smile back on his face.

Omar Deye sat rigid in his photo, back straight and chin jutted, looking down at the camera with contempt. He had dark skin, a tight fade, and a brooding expression. The muscles in his jaw were flexed, like he was clenching his teeth.

“He’s all bite and no bark,” Julian added, shaking his head.

“You mean ‘all bark and no bite,’” Yadriel corrected. A familiar face caught his attention. “And there you are,” he said, pressing his finger to the words “Julian Diaz.”

Julian wore the same old leather bomber jacket with the hood. There was a huge smile on his face, cutting dimples into his cheeks and crinkling his nose and the corner of his eyes. He was looking past the camera and, judging by his blurry edges, mid-laugh.

It was the kind of face you couldn’t help but smile back at.

“Hey, you makin’ fun of me?” Julian accused, but he was grinning, too.

“No!” Laughter bucked in Yadriel’s chest. “You just look—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Let’s look and see if yours is any better!” Julian demanded, gesturing for him to turn the page.

The laughter died in Yadriel’s throat immediately. He snapped the yearbook shut. “Let’s not.” He crossed the room and shoved the book back into its place on the shelf.

Julian remained where he sat, his brow pinched and his laughter uneasy, confused by Yadriel’s abrupt departure.

The truth was Yadriel didn’t want to show Julian his yearbook picture because it did not read Yadriel Vélez Flores. Without legally changing his name—which took time and money—the school refused to use his real name, forever embossing his deadname under his painfully awkward photograph.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

We’re outside.

Julian perked up. “Now?”

“Yup.” Yadriel grinned. “Come on, let’s—” When he opened the door, voices and the smell of food cooking wafted from downstairs. “Dammit,” he hissed. “Lita’s back.” He could hear her voice loudest among the rest, as usual.

Julian made a disgruntled groan.

“Just hold on a second,” Yadriel told him before slipping out the door. Carefully, he crept down the first few steps to get a view of what was going on downstairs. Lita was bossing around three other brujas as they carried boxes of supplies into the kitchen.

Annoyed, Yadriel pulled out his phone and texted Maritza, asking her to come help sneak Julian out.

Can’t. The boys aren’t allowed inside, remember?

“Dammit.” He was going to have to figure it out himself, then. Create a distraction so Julian could sneak out the front door unnoticed. Yadriel slipped back into his room. “Okay, we’re going to—”