Cemetery Boys(93)

“There you are! Come!” Yadriel’s heart sank as his dad waved him over. “We’ve been waiting for you to put the final touches on your mamá’s ofrenda!”

“One sec!” Yadriel turned back to Maritza.

Julian was already backing up, his attention caught by the dance circle that was forming. “Do what you gotta do,” he told Yadriel.

“Can you stash this for me in the old church?” Yadriel asked Maritza, reluctantly slipping his backpack off his shoulder.

She nodded and took it from him. “Sure.”

He turned to Julian. “I’ll make it quick.”

“Sure, sure, sure.” He was already blending into the crowd. “We’ve got time.”

But they didn’t.

Julian threw Yadriel a smile before disappearing into the crowd.

It took every bit of self-control Yadriel had left to not chase after him.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Maritza repeated with an encouraging smile. “We’ll meet you at the old church. Come find us when you’re done.”

“Thanks for covering for me,” Yadriel said to Maritza. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, well.” She sighed dramatically, her mood starting to warm back up. “You owe me. Like, big time.” Maritza hoisted the backpack higher on her shoulder. “I’ll go take care of this.” She turned and took off after Julian.

Yadriel went to his dad.

“You had me worried,” his dad told him as brujx filed by, shaking his hand.

“Yeah, sorry,” Yadriel replied, sidestepping the line of people. Luckily, his dad seemed to be in a good mood. He didn’t see his tío Catriz, but before he could ask where he was, Lita spotted him and gasped.

“You are not dressed!” she scolded.

Yadriel looked down at himself. The last thing he was worried about right now was his clothes. “What do you need me to do?” Yadriel asked his dad.

“I need you to get dressed!” Lita said before welcoming a family of brujx to the church.

His dad chuckled and gave a small shake of his head. “Go get changed,” he said before nodding toward the church. “I set aside the calavera you made for your mamá. Take it to her ofrenda, and then you and Maritza can go enjoy the party for a while. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great,” Yadriel said, not even finishing his sentence before he was off and running toward the house.

“Meet at the ofrenda by midnight!” his dad called after him. Yadriel lifted his hand in acknowledgment.

He raced through the cemetery and back to the house. Throwing open the door, he ran upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. The sooner he did what his dad asked, the sooner he could get back to Julian.

In his room, Yadriel tore off his hoodie and T-shirt and changed into an olive-green button-down. He didn’t have time to obsess and worry over whether his binder flattened down his chest enough to make it fit right. Yadriel shucked off his torn black jeans for a clean, if a bit wrinkled, pair. He kept the combat boots and headed back to the church.

His heart thudded in his chest, like a clock ticking down to midnight as he dodged brujx and spirits to get back into the church. It was packed with people and long tables covered in white linens, laden with food and drinks.

During Día de Muertos, you could really see how the diverse cultures of the brujx came together in celebration. Ecuadorian colada morada—a sweet, purple corn juice made with berries—was passed around in plastic cups. Brujos from El Salvador brought honeyed pumpkin to share. The Haitian families always brought plenty of homemade beeswax candles for decorating ofrendas and tombstones. Andean t’anta wawa—fruit-filled sweet rolls in the shape of babies—had been one of Yadriel’s favorites since he was little.

But he didn’t have time to indulge.

There were only a couple of boxes of calaveras left sitting on one of the tables. Yadriel picked up the one filled with the skulls he’d decorated for his mom and the rest of his ancestors the other night. Carefully cradling it in his arms, Yadriel left the church and the delicious smells behind him.

Just outside the church, a large dance circle had formed. In a ring, men and women played huehuetl, large animal hide drums, and teponaxtle, log drums with slits. The beat shook in Yadriel’s chest as he skirted around the outside of the crowd.

Clay flutes and ocarinas trilled like birds, while conch shells bellowed, deep and strong. The beat thrummed, and, in the center of the circle, the dancers danced. Chachayotes, adornments of shells and nuts, rattled on their wrists and ankles, shaking with each stomp. They wore traditional regalia, large and colorful headdresses made of long feathers. Women wore colorful tunics, while the men wore maxtlatl. A small girl in purple danced next to her older sister, her face serious and pinched in concentration. Sweat glistened on the dancers’ skin, catching the orange glow of the candles as they danced and moved through their paces.

Yadriel wondered if Julian had seen them. He would’ve liked to see his face as he watched them.

His mother’s grave was in the small graveyard adjacent to the church, saved for the family of the brujx leaders. His grandparents on his mother’s side, as well as his Lito, were all laid to rest in the same plot. The quiet little corner of the cemetery was decorated with care and pride.

Diego’s sugarcane handiwork was front and center. Tall arches and crosses stood at each grave, adorned with marigold blooms bursting with hundreds of petals. Lita’s hand-cut papel picado hung in colorful banners, gently swaying in the October breeze. His father had built sturdy altars for everyone, seven steps high and covered in trinkets, pictures, and food.