Cemetery Boys(32)

A couple of weeks later, his teacher had a meeting with his mom and dad. When they got home, they asked him about Lisa.

Even now, sometimes Yadriel could be looking at someone and not realize they were a spirit. If he wasn’t paying attention, it could be easy to overlook. When he was little, it was even harder to spot.

Lisa had passed away the year before from an extreme case of the flu over the course of just a couple of days. It had been sudden and unexpected. The floppy-eared dog had become the tether to her spirit.

Yadriel remembered being inconsolable in his grief, crying and clutching his mom and refusing the comfort of his father, thinking he was going to kill Lisa. As Camila rocked him in her lap, rubbing his back in slow circles, Enrique tried his best to explain.

His dad told him that Lisa was already dead, but that was okay. They didn’t force peaceful spirits to cross over. He told Yadriel he had actually helped Lisa—now that Enrique knew about her, he could check in on her and make sure she was okay. If she started to get “sick”—the word he used when Yadriel was little to describe spirits who turned maligno—then he could help her cross over to the other side. It would be painless, and she would be happy.

But when Yadriel went back to school the next day, there was no unknowing that Lisa was a spirit. His classmates were making fun of him because, to their eyes, he was talking to himself and playing with an imaginary friend. Yadriel decided to ignore Lisa. She followed him around; sometimes she would get angry, but mostly she would just cry.

Eventually, Yadriel stopped seeing her. Even now, he didn’t know if she’d crossed over on her own, or if his dad released her spirit. He never went near the floppy-eared dog again.

The idea of bringing Julian to school stirred up all the bad memories of Lisa. What if he slipped up? What if someone caught him talking to Julian? The last thing he ever wanted was to draw more attention to himself.

Yadriel let the mundane tasks of getting dressed, washing his face, and styling his hair calm his frayed nerves.

When Yadriel opened the door, Maritza was standing with her hands on her hips, staring down at Julian. He sat with his hands in his lap and his chin tucked to his chest. They both looked up when Yadriel walked in.

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.