Cemetery Boys(63)

Yadriel involuntarily cringed. That was a sort of pain he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Even just getting a burn from the oven was nearly unbearable.

“Rio’s got the same kind of scars on his arm. Luca was laid up on our couch for weeks. It was like if he wasn’t sleeping, he was just moaning in pain,” Julian said, wincing as if he could still hear it in his head.

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”

“No health insurance. Luca got real sick, we did everything we could, but it still got infected. He got a fever. My brother heard about this lady who did, like, natural healing stuff? Y’know, weird herbs that smell terrible, made him drink stuff that looked like dishwater. After a few days he felt better. His scar looks way better than Rio’s now. Whatever she did worked.”

“I wonder if it was a bruja,” Yadriel said.

Julian looked over at him. “You think?”

Yadriel shrugged. “Kind of sounds like it, doesn’t it? If he was in that bad of shape, and she healed him that quickly…” It definitely seemed in the realm of possibility.

“So there’s witches out there who can heal people like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And they’re just handing out favors to poor folks?”

“Well, some of them are doctors,” Yadriel explained. “Maritza’s sister, Paola, is in medical school right now—”

“Isn’t that cheating?” Julian frowned.

Yadriel scowled, feeling suddenly defensive. “Does it matter, if they’re still helping people?”

Julian jutted his chin and shrugged.

“Anyway, we have to afford to live, somehow, so they get jobs where they can use their healing. And, like you said, some of them run little businesses right out of their homes and disguise it as naturopathy. That’s what my mom did.” Yadriel’s eyes slid over to the framed photo of his mom. It was cast in shadows, but he could still make out her white teeth and big smile. “Sometimes she wouldn’t even take payment, either, even though it cost her every time she healed.”

“Ah, right. Bigger tasks take more magic, y’all only have so much to tap into, yada yada yada.” Julian nodded, recalling their conversation from the other day.

Yadriel’s stomach twisted. His mouth was dry, like his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. “And if you use too much, you can die,” he said, refusing to look at Julian when he said it. Yadriel could practically hear Julian’s brain buzzing with a slew of questions, so he cut him off at the pass.

“And some people aren’t born with much, or any,” he plowed on. “Like my uncle Catriz—”

“Tall guy with the big nose, gauged ears, and man bun?” Julian asked.

Yadriel scowled. “It’s not a man bun!” he snapped defensively. “Wearing your hair long and having stone plugs in your ears like that is very traditional.”

Julian smirked and Yadriel rolled his eyes.

“Anyways. Even though we’re from a powerful line of brujx—going back to even before the great Aztecs and Maya—his magic is so weak, he can only see and sense spirits,” Yadriel explained. “He can’t perform the other tasks of the brujos. They call it dilución de la magia, which means—”

“The dilution of magic, yeah, I know,” Julian interrupted. “I told you, I speak Spanish.”

“Well, my tío is an outcast like me,” Yadriel went on. “I mean, Maritza chooses to not be a bruja, but me and my uncle weren’t given that choice.” He shrugged.

“He gets me, and he has my back,” Yadriel said, remembering how Catriz had stood up for Yadriel earlier. How he’d tried talking sense to his dad. Even though it hadn’t worked, Yadriel was deeply thankful he’d even tried. He owed his tío big time for that.

“Well, at least your family is more accepting than Flaca’s,” Julian said, following his own train of thought. “She’s trans, but she’s a ‘throwaway.’”

“Throwaway?” Yadriel repeated, trying to regather his thoughts. He’d noticed—or assumed—Flaca was trans, but he didn’t know what “throwaway” meant.

“Yeah, her parents kicked her out when she told them.” He glowered up at the ceiling. “Throwaway. It was rough at first; she didn’t have anywhere to go, so she stayed with us a lot. But now she’s got some distant relatives—a cousin, I think—that she’s crashing with. Most of the time, anyways.”

“What about Rocky and Omar?” Yadriel asked. “If they’re hiding out at the underpass because they’re scared, aren’t their parents worried?”

“Rocky’s in a group home,” Julian said, as if that explained everything.

“Not all foster homes are bad,” Yadriel felt compelled to argue. One of his cousins and her husband were foster parents who had taken in a little girl. “Kids get adopted to nice families all the time—”

“Being in a group home is not the same as being with a foster family,” Julian told him. “It’s just a big house run by the state. Rocky hates it there. Too many kids, not enough beds, and some of them are real assholes.” Julian heaved a deep sigh. “Whenever she needed a break, Rio let her crash at our place. Same goes for Flaca, and Luca, like I said. Doesn’t even ask questions, just drags another blanket out of the closet.” His expression softened. “It’s a doggy-dog world out there,” Julian sighed.