Cemetery Boys(37)

Yadriel frowned. “Why not?”

“They’re, like, in a gang.”

Julian balked. “What?”

Yadriel looked to Maritza, who frowned back. Yadriel remembered hearing rumors about Julian and his group of friends. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hearing them all listed off. Julian was clearly getting worked up, but was that because the rumors were true?

“He and his family are from Colombia,” Alexa went on, in a way that suggested a double meaning, but when everyone just stared at her, she added, “You know what they export from Colombia, don’t you?”

“Coffee?” Maritza guessed in a bored tone.

“Crack,” Alexa answered.

Julian let out a string of colorful curses.

“Don’t you mean cocaine?” Patrice asked, giving Alexa a dubious look.

“What’s the difference?”

“I’m half Colombian on my mom’s side, and none of us are drug dealers,” Letti pointed out.

Alexa waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t count. They’re street kids.”

Julian seethed and Yadriel tensed.

“His older brother took over the family drug trade,” Alexa went on. “He runs it out of his mechanic shop.”

“Rio is not a drug dealer!” Julian barked, but, of course, they couldn’t hear him.

“Yeah, I don’t remember his name, but he was really hot, too.”

“Too bad he’s a drug dealer preying on high schoolers.”

Julian stepped forward. “No, he isn’t!”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t mess with those guys,” Letti said to Yadriel, her delicate eyebrows drawn together in concern.

Julian turned to face him. “This is complete bullshit!” he said, throwing his hands up.

Yadriel sent him a furtive glance. This was escalating too quickly, but he couldn’t find his voice to put a stop to it. Julian was losing his temper, which Yadriel couldn’t really blame him for, but he also didn’t want him to do something stupid.

With everyone around, he couldn’t exactly say something to Julian to calm him down.

“I think his parents are in jail,” Patrice added, thoughtfully tapping a finger against her cheek.

“No, his mom is in jail, pendeja.”

“I thought his mom ran off when he was, like, a baby?”

Julian visibly paled.

Oh no. That was a step too far. “Uh—” Yadriel tried to come up with something to derail the conversation, but they were off and running.

“He turned into a real asshole, like, a year ago, right around when he stopped playing soccer,” Letti went on, setting the soccer ball down by her feet. “Always getting into fights and starting trouble in class. Remember when he broke Pancho’s nose in biology?”

Julian snapped out of his daze. His face went from white to bright red in a matter of seconds. A cool gust of wind kicked up the fallen leaves that littered the ground.

“Oh yeah.” Patrice nodded. “I almost forgot about that!”

“That’s because—” Julian started, seething between his bared teeth.

“The violent gene must run in the family,” Alexa told them, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. “Apparently his dad was a sicario. He ran away to Los Angeles, but they found him anyways and killed him in the middle of the—”

Julian’s shout drowned out the rest of her words. “SHUT UP!”

Yadriel and Maritza both jumped. The other three didn’t seem to notice, but then Julian moved, and a gasp caught in Yadriel’s throat. There was a sharp gust of wind as Julian swung his leg. His foot connected with the soccer ball, and it went flying across the quad. Yadriel couldn’t see where it landed in the sea of students, but he did hear the disgruntled shouts in the distance.

Alexa, Letti, and Patrice all gasped, looking around wildly for an explanation of what had just happened.

Julian stormed off toward the field, leaving a rush of cold wind in his wake.

“What the hell was that?” Alexa demanded, trying to comb out her wind-tangled hair with her fingers.

Yadriel leaped up from his seat. Maritza looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“I gotta go,” he said.

As he rushed after Julian, he heard Maritza say behind him, “Must be those Santa Ana winds! It is that time of year.”

“They’re so crazy!” came Letti’s voice. “One time, they blew through and knocked my tío right off the roof when he was cleaning the gutters!”

Yadriel chased Julian out to where the blacktop met the field. He slowed to a stop where Julian crouched by the bleachers, his arms folded over his knees and shoulders hunched up to his ears. He pressed his mouth into the crook of his elbow, obsidian eyes staring out over the football field. Tiny gusts of wind swirled around him, sending leaves and cigarette butts rustling.

“Are you okay?” Yadriel asked gently after making sure there was no one around to overhear him.

“Yes,” Julian snapped, his voice muffled against his arm.

It was entirely unconvincing.

Yadriel shifted his weight between his feet. “Do you … want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Yadriel wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, but Julian was a spirit, and his hand would just pass right through. Instead, he sank down and sat, at least offering Julian his company, even if he didn’t have any words. He fiddled with blades of grass, stealing glances at Julian from the corner of his eye.