Cemetery Boys(48)

Julian waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing, I just need to make sure they’re okay!”

“Uh.” Maritza came up to Yadriel’s side. “We can’t just walk into your friends’ hideout, be like, ‘Hey, just checking in,’ and then be on our merry way,” she told him.

Yadriel nodded enthusiastically in agreement. He was very glad to have another voice of reason.

Julian let out a groan, like coming up with a game plan was a very large inconvenience. “I’ll just tell you what to say in the moment!”

“What, like Cyrano de Bergerac?” Yadriel asked with a sarcastic laugh.

Julian blinked. “Uh … yeah.”

“Do you even know who that is?” Maritza said.

Julian scowled. “Yes!”

He was definitely lying.

“That didn’t exactly work out for him, so I really don’t think it’ll go well for us, either,” Yadriel tried to reason, but he’d already lost Julian’s attention again.

“Blah, blah, blah! It’ll be fine!” he insisted, turning back to the stairs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on, they’re right over here!”

“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 NI?AS CON PENE, NI?OS 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—”