Page 60 of Cemetery Boys

“Julian,” Yadriel hissed, but it was too late.

Julian was already halfway down the stairs when Yadriel got to them. He went as fast as he could, only tripping once when his heel caught on an uneven step. At the bottom of the stairs, Yadriel rounded the corner to find him in the concrete tunnel under the tracks. Grass grew between the crooked pavers, and small rivulets ran down wide pillars. Pavement sloped up on either side until it ran against the wall of the arch.

“Thank God,” Julian exhaled, a smile lighting up his face.

A small group of people sat among an assembly of items. A shabby tent that looked like it could barely fit two people was patched together with bits of duct tape. There were some half-filled jugs of water, what looked like a tarp, and a few other items.

The entire section of wall was covered in spray paint. It wasn’t a mural, and certainly nothing done by Banksy, but there were some colorful doodles and a slew of words, some in English, some in Spanish, and others complete gibberish. A large skull was spray-painted off to the side in shades of neon purple, pink, and blue. Most of its teeth were missing, but the ones that remained were crooked and gold. Below in lopsided black letters was HAY NIÑAS CON PENE, NIÑOS CON VULVA Y TRANSFÓBICOS SIN DIENTES. In the lower corner, it read, ST. J.

Yadriel recognized the handwriting. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

A beaten-up floral couch was pushed against the wall. A girl sat on the back of the couch with her feet planted on the cushions. Yadriel recognized her high ponytail and pierced nose as Rocky. With a skateboard laid across her thighs, she had an intense look on her face as she stared across at a boy sitting on a lowrider bicycle, gripping the high handlebars. His hair was faded on the sides with small dreads on top. Omar’s chin was jutted in the same manner Yadriel had seen in his yearbook photo.

Next to Rocky, a thin girl sat tucked into the corner of the couch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She had thick dark hair, cheekbones like a supermodel, and a hooked nose. Her eyebrows were drawn with experienced precision, and her fingernails were painted a deep plum. Recognition shot through Yadriel. He knew her; he just hadn’t known her as Flaca.

“Hey, pendejos!” Julian called, grinning ear to ear.

The three didn’t so much as flinch.

“HEY!”

“They can’t hear you, remember?” Yadriel whispered, trying to keep quiet. He could hear Maritza trying to navigate down the narrow stairs with Donatello and Michelangelo.

“Oh.” Julian frowned. “Wait, where’s Luca?” he said to himself, and then, again, to Yadriel with more urgency, “Where’s Luca?”

Yadriel could barely shrug before Julian stomped toward his friends.

“LUCA!” he shouted, an edge of panic in his voice so sharp it gave Yadriel a surge of adrenaline.

“I told you,” Yadriel hissed, lurching forward, but his hand went right through Julian’s back, spilling ice water up the veins of his arm. “They can’t—” But he was too loud.

All three sets of eyes swung to Yadriel. He froze, perched on the balls of his feet.

Flaca sat up straighter and blinked at him. The look she gave him flicked from surprise to recognition to curiosity. Meanwhile Rocky looked unimpressed, and Omar just seemed straight-up irritated.

“Spot’s already taken,” Omar called.

“Ask him where Luca is,” Julian demanded.

“Uhhh,” was Yadriel’s intelligent response.

It was then a fourth person peeked around the edge of the pillar where they were all gathered. A pair of large eyes looked out from under a swath of golden-brown hair.

“Luca!” Julian’s shoulders dropped. A delirious sort of laugh fell from his lips.

Luca moved out from behind the pillar and eyed Yadriel over Omar’s shoulder. He was short and wore a faded olive sweater that was far too big for him. The sleeves practically swallowed up his hands. His wavy hair framed his face and curled around his ears. There was a black smudge across the bridge of his nose, and a skateboard covered in stickers tucked under his arm. “Who’s that?” Luca asked.

“You deaf or somethin’?” Omar stood from his bike, expression severe. “I said—”

“Jesus!” A disgruntled Maritza rounded the corner, pulled along by Donatello and Michelangelo as they panted sloppily. “I nearly broke my ass on those stairs!” she announced, rubbing her butt. “Thanks a lot.” She glared down at the two dogs.

Donatello happily smacked himself in the face with his own tail while Michelangelo stared up at her, his tongue dripping with drool.

All four of Julian’s friends moved at once. Flaca pressed herself further into the couch as Rocky leaped to her feet, standing her ground even though restrained panic glinted in her eyes as they darted back and forth between them and Omar.

Maritza pushed her pink-and-purple hair out of her face and looked up, finally noticing they weren’t alone. “Oh, hey,” she said, lifting a hand in greeting.

Omar backed up a step, and Luca disappeared behind him completely.