Cemetery Boys

by Aiden Thomas

  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 NIÑAS CON PENE, NIÑOS 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—”

  “Jesus!” A disgruntled Maritza rounded the corner, pulled along by Donatello and Michelangelo as they panted sloppily. “I nearly broke my ass on those stairs!” she announced, rubbing her butt. “Thanks a lot.” She glared down at the two dogs.

  Donatello happily smacked himself in the face with his own tail while Michelangelo stared up at her, his tongue dripping with drool.

  All four of Julian’s friends moved at once. Flaca pressed herself further into the couch as Rocky leaped to her feet, standing her ground even though restrained panic glinted in her eyes as they darted back and forth between them and Omar.

  Maritza pushed her pink-and-purple hair out of her face and looked up, finally noticing they weren’t alone. “Oh, hey,” she said, lifting a hand in greeting.

  Omar backed up a step, and Luca disappeared behind him completely.

  “What do you want?” Omar demanded, shoulders back and chest puffed.

  They were getting off on the entirely wrong foot.

  Of course, Julian was no help. “My skateboard!” He went over to a very worn-out-looking skateboard leaning against the arm of the couch. It had cracks and raw edges. On the bottom, Julian’s name was written in large neon green letters. It was covered in several stickers, most of which had been nearly scraped off, but Yadriel recognized one of St. Jude.

  Julian eyed the couch and tent. “Are they sleeping out here again?” he said to himself before scowling at his friends.

  “We don’t want anything,” Maritza said, putting on her best look of nonchalance. “We were just passing through.” She glanced at Julian. “Everyone seems present and accounted for, so we’ll be off—”

  Yadriel inwardly groaned.

  “What are you talking about?” Flaca asked. Her attention shifted to Yadriel. Her lips parted. “I know you from school,” she said.

  Yadriel’s face burned under her gaze. “Uh, yeah, I think so,” he said, even though he definitely knew her.

  “You know each other?” Julian asked.

  Flaca was the first openly trans person Yadriel had ever met. They’d had a couple of the same classes and had even worked on a history project together. He remembered the first time Flaca wore a skirt to school, and how he’d stared. Yadriel thought it was both incredibly brave and terrifying, all at once.

  Flaca was unapologetically herself. They’d been sitting next to each other when she got pulled out of class by the teacher and sent to the principal’s office. While other students had oohed and jeered as the teacher ushered her out of the room, Flaca stood from her desk and walked out calmly, not sparing anyone a single glance.

  That’s where he recognized Rocky from, too. He’d seen her standing guard outside the stall when Flaca used the girls’ restroom, throwing seething glares at anyone who so much as looked at Flaca the wrong way. More than once, he’d watched Rocky follow teachers down the hall, yelling at them as they escorted Flaca to the main office. Every time, Flaca held her chin high, statuesque in her confident walk.

  It was seeing Flaca, her fearlessness, that encouraged Yadriel to wear a binder to school for the first time. No one else had seemed to notice, but when he sat down next to Flaca, she looked him up and down, smiled, and said, “Looks good.”

  Yadriel’s face had burst into a white-hot flush, but Flaca had left it at that.

  When she stopped showing up to school halfway
through last year, Yadriel had noticed.

  Now, Flaca gave him a once-over again. “What’s your name?” she asked.

  It was a simple question, but it made Yadriel’s chest tight, like his binder was squeezing all the air from his lungs.

  “Your real name,” Flaca corrected.

  The tension popped like a balloon. “Yadriel,” he said, like a sigh of relief.

  Flaca smiled. “Much better.”

  Yadriel smiled back.

  “Who are you?” Omar demanded, bringing Yadriel’s attention back to the matter at hand. There were still three other people giving him suspicious looks.

  Yadriel hesitated, not sure how to respond. He flicked a look to Julian.

  “Oh,” he said, as if he just remembered his job. “Just tell them you’re my friend.”

  Yadriel tried to answer as quickly as possible, but the pause while he waited for Julian’s instructions was long and awkward. “We’re Julian’s friends,” Yadriel repeated.

  “No, you’re not,” Rocky snapped. She shifted her skateboard in her grip. She wasn’t exactly brandishing it, but Yadriel fully believed she’d used it as a weapon before and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again.

  Maritza looked to Yadriel.

  “This isn’t going well,” Julian observed from the sidelines.

  Not helpful.

  “You’re right, we’re really more like acquaintances,” Yadriel tried. No one looked very convinced. It was better to get out now before something bad happened. Even if they were Julian’s friends, Yadriel knew nothing about them.

  “Sorry, we didn’t mean to bother you, we just thought he’d be here.” He backed toward the stairs.

  Flaca watched him carefully, calculatingly.

  “But obviously he isn’t, so we’ll just—”

  “Wait!” Luca stepped out from behind Omar. “Have you seen Jules?” His voice was hopeful. Luca spoke with his chin tucked down, glancing up at them through the fringe of his hair. The wide neck of his sweater slid down his collarbone.

  “Luca,” Omar warned, catching the smaller boy’s arm.

  Yadriel glanced to Julian for some direction.

  “No, you haven’t,” he said with a vigorous shake of his head.

  “No, we haven’t,” Yadriel echoed.

  Luca’s shoulders fell. “Neither have we. Not—not since last night—”

  Omar gave him a tug. “We don’t know them—” he hissed, but Luca twisted out of his grasp with such expertise, his sudden absence made Omar stumble.

  “We’ve been looking for him.”

  Julian stiffened. “Jesus, Luca.” He moved to his friend, reaching as if to grab his chin, but he stopped, probably remembering he couldn’t touch him.

  Yadriel gave the boy a closer look, not knowing what Julian saw that was making him so upset. But then he realized.

  The smudge across the bridge of his nose wasn’t dirt but a bruise. There was also a red cut in the corner of his mouth. And was his bottom lip swollen?

  “He’s missing,” Flaca finally said.

  Luca nodded while Rocky shifted her weight between her feet, her gaze dropping to the ground.

  “¡Cállate, Flaca!” Omar warned.

  Flaca brushed him off with an irritated wave of her hand.

  For a moment, the pretense and defenses slipped. They were just four kids worried about their best friend. Yadriel released some of the tension he was holding. There was no drug paraphernalia, no guns or weapons that he could see. He was the one with a dagger tucked into the waist of his jeans.

  If they only thought Julian was missing … “What happened?”

  Flaca spoke first. “He got jumped by the park.”

  “We don’t even know them!” Omar was still trying to keep their secrets, but it was obvious he’d lost control over the situation. Their concerns for Julian outweighed anything else.

  “I got jumped,” Luca corrected. His shoulders hunching up to his ears. “Jules tried to stop them. It was dark, he told us to run, so we scattered.” He twisted his sleeves between his fingers. “We can’t find him.”

  This wasn’t good. There were no leads for them to go off of. If they thought Julian was missing, that meant they hadn’t found his body. And it also meant—

  “They don’t know I’m dead.”

  Julian stood there, his arms limp at his sides. He stared down at Luca, and his expression—the upturned brows and painful grimace of his lips—made Yadriel’s heart ache.

  “When we regrouped, he wasn’t there, so we went looking for him, but he’d disappeared without a trace,” Luca explained.

  Disappeared without a trace.

  Yadriel’s mind raced, fitting the pieces together. Julian had died last night. He got jumped in the park, and when his friends tried looking for him, he was gone. There was no sign of his body.

  Just like Miguel.

  “Have you guys talked to Rodrigo?” Luca asked, a hopeful lift in his voice.

  Julian tensed, but Yadriel tried not to look at him, still under Omar’s careful watch.

  “My brother,” Julian said tersely.

  “No, we haven’t,” Yadriel replied.

  Flaca sighed. “Rio probably thinks Jules ran away, too. They got into a huge fight a few days ago, and Jules hadn’t gone home yet.”

  “That’s none of their business,” Omar hissed.

  The thundering approach of a train filled Yadriel’s ears. As it passed overhead, the wheels clacked loudly, buffeting the air and reeking of diesel. Rocky, Flaca, and Omar seemed to be arguing, their voices impossible to hear with the passing of the train. Luca stood there cringing, plugging his ears with his fingers.

  Donatello and Michelangelo tugged nervously against their leashes, and Maritza dropped to her knee, giving them scratches and offering comfort.

  In all the commotion, Yadriel stole a look at Julian. He was staring at the ground, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The wind whipped his jacket and tugged at his white tee.

  By the time the train passed, Omar looked just as disgruntled, but his mouth was clamped shut.

  “Someone needs to tell Rio what happened,” Luca said. “But…” He trailed off.

  They all looked ashamed, even Omar.

  “Their place is right by Belvedere,” Flaca stepped in to explain. “And we’re too freaked out to go back…”

  Yadriel inwardly sighed. He couldn’t really blame them for being afraid, could he? But at the same time, he was frustrated. Knowing Julian, there was probably nothing frightening enough to keep him from making sure his friends were okay. But still. Not everyone was as fearlessly reckless as Julian Diaz. Even his best friends.

  He almost asked why they didn’t just call or text Rio, but he caught himself. Obviously, if they hadn’t done that yet, it was because they didn’t have cell phones to call or text him on.

  “Have you told the police?” Maritza asked.

  Omar’s laugh was sharp as knives and dark as coal.

  “They wouldn’t listen to us,” Flaca said. “We made a police report this morning when he never showed up, but we couldn’t even give a description of the guy who jumped him. It was too dark to see anything.”

  “I don’t remember, either,” Julian confirmed in a gruff voice.

  What was it about his brother that set Julian off like that?

  When Yadriel glanced at Julian, Omar’s eyes narrowed, trying to track what he was looking at.

  “They wouldn’t even put out a missing-person alert for Jules,” Flaca continued.

  “What?” Yadriel shook his head. “Why not?”

  “Because he’s a Latino boy living in East Los Angeles with no parents,” Omar said, seething.

  “They decided he was a runaway,” Rocky explained. “When a kid goes missing, they assume they’re at risk, so you get AMBER Alerts, calls in the media, and police searching and asking around. But if you’re a runaway?” She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “We can try talking to
him—” Yadriel ventured.

  Julian spun toward him. “No!” he barked.

  Yadriel looked toward Julian on instinct. Quickly, he tried to turn away, but Omar’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe he’s heard something.”

  “I said NO!” Julian shouted, so loud that Yadriel and Maritza both jumped, hit in the face with a wall of cold. Both their attention snapped to Julian. The muscles in his jaw jumped, nostrils flared and body rigid as he glared at them. His edges flickered.

  Flaca, Luca, and Rocky glanced around to see what they were staring at and exchanged confused looks.

  But Omar was zeroed in on Yadriel. “What?” he asked.

  Yadriel blinked. “What?”

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Nothing,” Yadriel said, way too quickly. He was starting to sweat.

  “We just want to find him and make sure he’s okay,” Rocky said, hugging her skateboard tight to her chest. “We don’t want him to end up missing for good.”

  “Just like the rest of them,” Luca added miserably.

  Yadriel frowned. “Rest of them? What does that mean?”

  “Bunch of street kids have been going missing—that’s three now, right?” Rocky looked to Flaca for confirmation, who nodded.

  “Three missing kids?” Maritza repeated.

  Luca pressed his palms against his eyes. Yadriel caught a glimpse of his dimpled chin before Omar stepped in front of him, blocking Luca from view.

  “That’s nothing new,” Omar insisted. “Kids go missing all the time, just no one notices ’cause they’re already living on the streets, or their parents threw them out.”

  Flaca flinched.

  “Yeah, but they all went missing in the same area—around Belvedere—and all been labeled runaways,” Flaca said. Her fingernails dug into the crook of her elbow. “Whoever took them probably took Jules, too.”

  “They’re worrying too much about me and need to be worrying about themselves,” Julian spoke up, walking closer to the group. “They need to go somewhere more safe than this,” he said, thrusting his arms out.

  “Is there somewhere safe you guys can ride this out?” Yadriel asked.

  “Usually, when stuff goes down, Rio takes us in,” Flaca said in a small, crestfallen tone.