Cemetery Boys

by Aiden Thomas

  “No! Don’t touch!” His round, tanned face pinched into a glower, his eyes cutting back and forth between Yadriel and Julian. “Troublemakers!” he barked, wagging a finger at them.

  “I’m sorry, Tito.” Yadriel cringed. He knew how hard Tito worked on his marigolds all year round to make sure they were perfect for Día de Muertos. “We were just, uh—”

  Tito’s attention swung to Julian who shrank back a step, shoulders hunching up to his ears, a painfully guilty smile on his face.

  “Uh, this is…” Yadriel trailed off, not knowing what to say. Certainly not the truth. What if Tito told Yadriel’s dad that he and a spirit boy had ruined some of his marigolds? He did not need his dad getting suspicious or asking questions. He could just lie and say Julian was a new spirit in the cemetery, right? That wouldn’t need much explanation, would it? “This is— He’s just,” Yadriel blabbered, trying to put a coherent sentence together. Tito’s eyes narrowed. “He’s—”

  Tito held up his hand, cutting him off. “I don’t want to know! Take your trouble and go!” he snapped before going back to picking up his marigolds, murmuring words of comfort to them in Spanish.

  Yadriel certainly wasn’t going to argue with him, so he raced to the house, Julian right on his heels.

  “Do you think he’s gonna tell on us?” Julian asked as they got to the door.

  “I hope not,” Yadriel said, jumping to get a peek through the window in the door. He didn’t hear anyone inside or see any movement behind the curtains. “Tito tends to mind his own business.”

  “You did mess up his flowers, though,” Julian pointed out, giving Yadriel a disapproving shake of his head.

  “It’s not like I did it on purpose!” he hissed back. He didn’t smell any food cooking, either, which was a good sign. Yadriel pushed the front door open and poked his head in.

  “Hello?” he called. “Anyone home?” he strained his ears, listening for a response or a creak of floorboards, but the house was silent.

  At least one thing was going right today.

  Yadriel led the way up the stairs and to his room, shutting the door behind them. Immediately, he went to his bedside table. He yanked open the drawer, dug out the wadded-up T-shirt, and took out his portaje. It was still there, undiscovered and untouched. He sat heavily on the edge of the mattress and clutched the dagger to his chest and let out a sigh of relief.

  His secret was still safe.

  “How long we gotta wait for Maritza?” Julian asked, arms crossed, looking impatient.

  “As soon as she’s done talking her parents into letting her out,” Yadriel told him as he slipped his portaje into the sheath at his hip. “Don’t worry, she can talk her way out of pretty much everything.”

  Julian let out a frustrated grunt and flopped back onto the bed next to him.

  For a moment, Yadriel considered Julian as he scowled up at the ceiling, expecting to see the ebb and flow of emotions that seemed to pass so fluidly across his face almost constantly, but, right now, he just seemed so … tired. There were shadows darkening the delicate brown skin under his eyes. Yadriel wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but he almost looked paler. No, “pale” wasn’t the right word, just less solid? Untouchable.

  “I just want to find my friends,” Julian finally said.

  Yadriel felt a little guilty. For the most part, Julian had done everything asked of him so far, but Yadriel still hadn’t held up his part of the bargain. Julian was upset, and Yadriel wanted to make him feel better, but in the moment, he didn’t know how.

  Maybe a distraction was his best bet.

  “Why don’t you show me what they look like,” Yadriel said, picking up his yearbook where it had been left on the floor.

  Usually, his family couldn’t afford a yearbook. His sophomore year was the first time his dad had bought him one, even though they were hard up for cash without the income from his mom’s nursing job. On top of being the leader of the brujx, his dad also worked as an independent contractor to make ends meet. Most of his employees were other brujos, but projects were sometimes few and far between. It was the brujas, working as doctors, doulas, nurses, and psychologists, who were the financial heads of the households.

  Even so, his dad had somehow scrounged up the fifty dollars it cost to buy a yearbook. Yadriel brushed his fingers over the glossy pages.

  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 m
aking 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—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Let’s look and see if yours is any better!” Julian demanded, gesturing for him to turn the page.

  The laughter died in Yadriel’s throat immediately. He snapped the yearbook shut. “Let’s not.” He crossed the room and shoved the book back into its place on the shelf.

  Julian remained where he sat, his brow pinched and his laughter uneasy, confused by Yadriel’s abrupt departure.

  The truth was Yadriel didn’t want to show Julian his yearbook picture because it did not read Yadriel Vélez Flores. Without legally changing his name—which took time and money—the school refused to use his real name, forever embossing his deadname under his painfully awkward photograph.

  As if on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

  We’re outside.

  Julian perked up. “Now?”

  “Yup.” Yadriel grinned. “Come on, let’s—” When he opened the door, voices and the smell of food cooking wafted from downstairs. “Dammit,” he hissed. “Lita’s back.” He could hear her voice loudest among the rest, as usual.

  Julian made a disgruntled groan.

  “Just hold on a second,” Yadriel told him before slipping out the door. Carefully, he crept down the first few steps to get a view of what was going on downstairs. Lita was bossing around three other brujas as they carried boxes of supplies into the kitchen.

  Annoyed, Yadriel pulled out his phone and texted Maritza, asking her to come help sneak Julian out.

  Can’t. The boys aren’t allowed inside, remember?

  “Dammit.” He was going to have to figure it out himself, then. Create a distraction so Julian could sneak out the front door unnoticed. Yadriel slipped back into his room. “Okay, we’re going to—”

  Julian jumped. The yearbook was in his lap and he shut it quickly with a snap.

  “What are you doing?” Yadriel demanded.

  Julian blinked. “What?”

  “What are you—?”

  “Nothing!” The wide-eyed look on his face, accompanied by rosy cheeks, was so guilty that it was almost comical. “Look!” Julian said, jumping to change the subject as he haphazardly opened and closed the cover.

  Yadriel’s face screwed up in confusion.

  “I can pick it up and move it!” Julian told him, flashing a smile.

  “Oookay.” Yadriel stepped closer. “Why are you—?”

  Julian quickly stood up from the bed, tossing the yearbook to the side. A Sharpie fell through his lap. “Maritza’s waiting for us, right? Come on,” he said, making for the door. “Time to sneak out and go find my friends,” Julian told him as he walked out into the hall.

  Yadriel shook his head and picked up the yearbook. Before putting it away, he flipped it open to his picture. His own face looked up at him, smiling in a way that made him look like he was in physical pain. He wore the same black hoodie, his hair carefully styled.

  He was about to snap it shut when he noticed.

  Beneath his photo, his deadname had been scribbled out with black marker. Under, written in lopsided letters, it read, YADRIEL.

  NINE

  “I can just jump out the window,” Julian suggested as they stood at the top of the stairs, trying to come up with a plan.

  Yadriel spun to face him. “What?” he said, giving Julian a bewildered look as he toyed with the St. Jude pendant.

  Julian stared at it, his fingers brushing the same spot on himself.

  “You’re not serious,” Yadriel said.

  Julian rolled his eyes before locking them onto Yadriel’s. “What’s it gonna do, kill me?”

  “I think a bigger problem would be people seeing a body falling out the window.”

  “Then you come up with something!”

  “Shh!” Yadriel paused to listen, but the chatter continued downstairs, undisturbed. “As tempting as it is to throw you out the window—”

  Julian’s mouth flew open, but Yadriel cut him off. “I think the best option is to just walk out the front door.”

  “You just said we can’t let anyone see me—”

  “Right, so we’ve got to be sneaky about it.” Yadriel huffed a breath in an attempt to steady his nerves. “I’ll go into the kitchen and distract them, and you sneak out the door, okay?”

  Julian looked doubtful, but he bobbed his head in a nod.

  “Stay close,” he said as they slowly moved down the stairs. A shiver rolled through Yadriel, like icy fingers trailing up his spine.

  Julian’s voice said in his ear, a cool breeze ghosting against his neck, “You got it, patrón.”

  Maybe that was too close.

  They went down the stairs, and Julian pressed himself against the wall next to the entryway to the kitchen. Yadriel cut him a glance before walking into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Lita,” he said, and he was greeted by a cacophony of hellos. Every set of eyes swung to Yadriel, and he shrank at the sudden attention.

  Lita ushered him forward, and Yadriel moved to the other side of the room, angling himself so Lita and the brujas turned their backs on the living room.

  “Are you hungry?” Lita asked. “We’re making tamales!”

  The brujas lined the counter, making an assembly line of tamales. One of them spread the masa into the corn husk, the next laid the filling, the third wrapped the husk and then handed it to Lita, who placed it in a large pot to be steamed.

  “Uh,” Yadriel hesitated. Julian peeked at him around the corner, waiting for his instructions. He needed to get their attention.

  He knew what’d do that trick.

  “Save me a tamal for later? I’m not hungry.” All four women looked up at him. “I’m not feeling so good.”

  The whole room broke into chatter as they converged on him. As they asked him what was wrong, everyone touching his cheeks and checking his forehead for a temperature, Yadriel forced himself not to squirm away.

  “I have vivaporú in my bag!”

  “I’ll brew some manzanilla!”

  He gave Julian a subtle jerk of his head, and Julian crept toward the door.

  “Take off your shirt,” Lita ordered him. “I’ll get an egg!” She made to turn toward the fridge, but Julian was only halfway across the room, in clear sight.

  “No!” Yadriel shouted, and everyone jumped, including Julian.

  Lita clutched her rosary and stared at Yadriel. “No?” she repeated, clearly offended.

  “I’m—I’m okay, reall
y,” Yadriel stammered.

  Taking the hint, Julian ran for the door and slipped out.

  A cold wave of relief crashed over Yadriel.

  “But—” Lita began to argue.

  “Really, I’m fine,” he told her, conjuring up a smile. “And I’m in a rush, I have to go meet Maritza.”

  Lita frowned.

  “We have important school stuff to do,” he added, knowing school was a fail-safe excuse. “Big project.”

  The brujas turned to Lita, and she thought for a moment, lips pursed. But, eventually, she nodded. “Fine—”

  Yadriel bolted for the door.

  “No staying out after dark!” Lita called after him.

  “We won’t!”

  “And we’re putting vivaporú on you when you get back!” her voice followed as Yadriel ran outside and down the steps.

  Julian waited for him by a seafoam-green mausoleum. “All good?” he asked, falling into step alongside him.

  “Yeah, though I think I just doomed myself to getting slathered in Vaporub tonight,” Yadriel said.

  “Ah.” Julian smirked. “The Latinx cure-all.”

  “Seriously,” he agreed with a laugh. Voices caught Yadriel’s attention, and he craned his head to the right. Immediately, he recognized the back of his dad’s head.

  “My dad used to—”

  “Stop!” Yadriel hissed.

  Julian’s head whipped side to side, looking around. “What?”

  “Duck!” Yadriel dropped down behind a stone sarcophagus.

  For once, Julian obeyed. “What?” he asked again in a whisper. “What is it?”

  Carefully, Yadriel peeked over the large slab of stone for a better look. “It’s my dad and my brother,” he murmured.

  Julian scooted closer, pressing cold against Yadriel’s side, and stole a look, too.

  Up ahead, Yadriel’s dad and Diego stood next to each other. Enrique had his arm on Diego’s shoulder, and they stood facing two women. Yadriel recognized the older woman as Beatriz Cisneros. She had short white hair, wore a heavy shawl, and was clearly a spirit. At her side stood Sandra Cisneros, her daughter.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” asked Yadriel’s dad.

  “What are they doing?” Julian asked, his voice soft in Yadriel’s ear.