Cemetery Boys(42)

He looked expectantly at Julian, who laid there stubbornly for a few beats before giving up and moving to sit next to him.

“So who am I looking up?” Yadriel asked, thumbing through the pages.

“Flaca won’t be in it,” Julian said. “Dropped out the end of last year. Rocky should be, though.”

“Last name?”

“Ramos.”

“Our grade?”

“Yup.”

Yadriel flipped to the R’s, eyes scanning the pages for “Ramos,” but he didn’t see a boy named Rocky.

“There,” Julian pressed his finger to the page, but not before Yadriel was already flipping to the next one. The page fell right through Julian’s hand. Yadriel went back to see where he was pointing.

“That’s Rocky,” Julian said.

Rocky, or, rather, Raquel Ramos, was a pretty girl with a high, sleek ponytail and striking features. She had a septum piercing and a bored expression. He vaguely recognized her but couldn’t say for certain, which wasn’t a rarity when you went to a high school with thousands of students.

Julian’s mouth quirked into a lopsided grin.

Yadriel glanced between him and the photo. “She’s pretty,” he said, without really knowing why. He shifted. “She your girlfriend or something?” he asked in his best casual tone.

Julian snorted. “No.” He leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “I don’t do girlfriends.”

Yadriel rolled his eyes and scoffed. “What? Because you’re some kind of mujeriego, or something? Too many ladies to pick just one?” he asked with a flare of annoyance.

“No.” Julian’s tone was cross, eyes still on the page. “Because I’m gay, asshole.”

Yadriel blinked. He … hadn’t expected that. He stared at Julian. “Oh.” His mind raced to place this new information with the boy sitting next to him.

Julian glanced up. “That a problem?” he asked with a hard stare and a cocked eyebrow.

“Uh—no, no, that’s not a problem.” Heat bloomed in Yadriel’s cheeks.

“And so is Rocky,” Julian went on nonchalantly. “So we cancel each other out.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Queer folks are like wolves,” Julian told him. “We travel in packs.”

“I—I am, too. I mean—” Yadriel cleared his throat. “I’m into guys.” His chest tightened as he waited for Julian’s response.

But Julian only blinked slowly at him, as if waiting for Yadriel to reveal something more interesting. “Cool,” he said, after Yadriel didn’t offer anything else.

Julian nodded to the yearbook. “Luca Garcia.”

Yadriel wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed by Julian’s nonchalance.

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—”