Cemetery Boys(82)

Julian sighed and scrubbed his hand over his shaved head. “You wanted to get rid of me on day one, remember?”

Yadriel crossed his arms and glared at him. Yes, he remembered, but that didn’t count anymore.

“The whole deal was you’d help make sure my friends were okay,” Julian listed off on his fingers, “and I’d let you release my spirit so you could show everyone you’re a brujo, right?” His hands fell to his lap. “I’m doing what you want, I will willingly let you release me, Yadriel. I won’t put up a fight.”

But Yadriel wanted him to put up a fight. Couldn’t he see that?

“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Julian nudged.

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly. His pulse throbbed in his veins.

Irritation finally started to edge Julian’s voice. “So what’s different now?”

“Everything!”

A long, drawn-out silence stretched between them.

Julian stared at Yadriel, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, like Yadriel was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

He must’ve really rubbed off on Yadriel, because all he wanted to do was fight back and yell until Julian realized he was being stupid.

The problem was that he wasn’t being stupid. He’d made his point of view clear. His argument was even, dare Yadriel think it, logical. Warring emotions swelled in Yadriel, demanding to be felt, blinding him from any rational thought.

It was too fast. Yadriel wasn’t ready. He needed more time. Desperation clawed through him as he tried to come up with another option.

But the truth was, there wasn’t one.

Yadriel’s throat was tight. His palms were slick with sweat. “One more day,” he said, voice wavering.

Julian groaned. “We’re just buying time, Yads, what’s the point?”

“One more day,” he insisted, firmer this time. “Tomorrow at midnight, Día de Muertos will start, and—”

“And all the ghosts get to come back, yeah, I remember,” Julian grumbled.

Yadriel didn’t have the time nor patience to correct him with any sort of civility. “I’ll release you then. That gives us one more day.”

Julian looked ready to argue. When he opened his mouth, Yadriel cut him off.

“Tomorrow night, okay?”

Julian’s mouth snapped shut. The muscles in his jaw flexed. But eventually, he said, “Fine.”

It gave Yadriel little relief. “Fine.” He stomped over to his closet, peeled off his hoodie, and angrily threw it into his overflowing hamper. He opened his drawer and yanked out clean clothes before he shoved it closed with a snap.

Without a word, he left for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Yadriel threw back the shower curtain and cranked on the water, twisting it to hot. When he got in, it was near scalding, but he wanted to feel the bite on his skin as he scrubbed himself clean. By the time he was certain there was no trace of that black gunk under his nails, or the smell of Tito’s rotting flesh in his hair, the hot water had faded to warm. His skin was flushed and raw.

Overcome with a wave of exhaustion, Yadriel leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall and closed his eyes. The water beat against his neck and cascaded down his back. He wanted to hold on to his anger because he was scared of what would be left to feel without it, but he was too tired to stay mad.

He’d been so distracted by his own thoughts that he hadn’t taken care to dry himself off properly before trying to pull on his binder. All his binders with the side clasps that were easier to get into were in the laundry, so he was stuck with a vest-style one. He managed to get it over his head, but when he tried to shrug into the tight, stretchy material, it clung mercilessly to his wet shoulders. Yadriel gave it a tug, wiggled, and squirmed, but it only seemed to get tighter. His frustration boiled over and he thrashed, practically tripping over the bath mat as he struggled. A moment later, he was stuck, only one arm through and the binder bunched and tight across his collarbone. Yadriel slumped, collapsing onto the toilet seat as he tried to catch his breath.

Why was he acting like this?

So many things had gone so right and so wrong in such a short amount of time. His dad had come around. He saw Yadriel clearly as he was. He had even agreed to let Yadriel be in the aquelarre this year. Yadriel would see his mom soon, and she would see what he had accomplished since she’d left. He would be welcomed and accepted by his community for who he was. Finally.

But now he would be losing Julian in the same night. Why did the pain of that impending loss hit him harder than anything else?

If they only had one day left together, Yadriel wasn’t going to tell anyone about him. Not his dad, not Tío Catriz or anyone else. Julian was his secret, and he wanted to keep him all to himself for as long as he could.

Eventually, by continued forceful tugging and wiggling, he got the binder on. When Yadriel went back into his room, Julian was sprawled out on the bed. Purrcaso was curled up on his chest, her nose tucked into her tail, fast sleep.

“This is still so weird,” Julian said, trailing his fingertip along Purrcaso’s crooked little spine.

“I told you not to make fun of her,” Yadriel said, slicking his wet hair back and out of his face.

Julian rolled his eyes, but an amused smirk still tugged at his lips. “Not what I meant.”