Lisa had passed away the year before from an extreme case of the flu over the course of just a couple of days. It had been sudden and unexpected. The floppy-eared dog had become the tether to her spirit.
Yadriel remembered being inconsolable in his grief, crying and clutching his mom and refusing the comfort of his father, thinking he was going to kill Lisa. As Camila rocked him in her lap, rubbing his back in slow circles, Enrique tried his best to explain.
His dad told him that Lisa was already dead, but that was okay. They didn’t force peaceful spirits to cross over. He told Yadriel he had actually helped Lisa—now that Enrique knew about her, he could check in on her and make sure she was okay. If she started to get “sick”—the word he used when Yadriel was little to describe spirits who turned maligno—then he could help her cross over to the other side. It would be painless, and she would be happy.
But when Yadriel went back to school the next day, there was no unknowing that Lisa was a spirit. His classmates were making fun of him because, to their eyes, he was talking to himself and playing with an imaginary friend. Yadriel decided to ignore Lisa. She followed him around; sometimes she would get angry, but mostly she would just cry.
Eventually, Yadriel stopped seeing her. Even now, he didn’t know if she’d crossed over on her own, or if his dad released her spirit. He never went near the floppy-eared dog again.
The idea of bringing Julian to school stirred up all the bad memories of Lisa. What if he slipped up? What if someone caught him talking to Julian? The last thing he ever wanted was to draw more attention to himself.
Yadriel let the mundane tasks of getting dressed, washing his face, and styling his hair calm his frayed nerves.
When Yadriel opened the door, Maritza was standing with her hands on her hips, staring down at Julian. He sat with his hands in his lap and his chin tucked to his chest. They both looked up when Yadriel walked in.
He crossed his arms. He was calmer, if a bit embarrassed.
“We talked it over and came to a compromise,” Maritza said.
“She threatened to put a curse on me,” Julian supplied.
Maritza shook out her curls and continued on, as if Julian hadn’t said anything. “Julian says he’ll behave himself and not cause any trouble.”
Yadriel’s skepticism must’ve showed, because she added, “Or he’ll suffer the consequences.”
Julian squinted up at Maritza. “I don’t know if I believe she can do that.” Then, to Yadriel. “Can she do that?”
“Probably best not to push your luck and find out,” Yadriel said.
The corner of Julian’s lips pulled into a smirk.
“Deal?” Maritza interrupted.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Julian stood, waving her off. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, no ghost stuff, no being a nuisance, blah, blah, blah. Now can we please go? I’ve been trapped in this room long enough!” Yadriel could practically feel Julian’s pent-up energy come off him in waves.
Yeah, leaving him here alone would definitely end in disaster.
“All right,” Yadriel sighed in concession. Julian’s face lit with a bright smile. “Just one second.” He grabbed his backpack and pulled out the mezcal and his portaje. “Last thing I need is to get caught by campus security with alcohol and a knife in my backpack.” Yadriel wrapped his portaje in a T-shirt and stuffed it into the bottom of the drawer in his bedside table. It was the only place he knew Lita’d steer clear of.
“Okay, let’s go.” Yadriel opened the door, but before Julian could step through, he held up a finger. “You two sneak out the front door while I distract Lita, okay?”
Maritza nodded. “Let’s go, dead boy,” she said to Julian.
He pretended to look offended, but he held his tongue for once and silently followed her down the stairs. Maybe he was a little worried about getting cursed.
SEVEN
Downstairs, Lita’s Tejano music blared from the kitchen. “I’ll meet you outside,” Yadriel whispered.
Julian gave a salute, and Maritza ushered him toward the door while Yadriel went into the kitchen.
He was met with the smell of rice and beans cooking on the stove. A metal espresso maker perched on a burner, filling the air with the smell of brown sugar and coffee. Loud music poured from a boom box propped on a chair, the old speakers giving it a tinny edge. Every morning, Lita woke up, brewed café cubano, and made food while she listened to the same CD over and over again.
The normal routine felt strange in comparison to the very abnormal events of the last twelve hours.
Lita stood at the sink, washing dishes. Her operatic bellowing along with the song made Yadriel flinch. “¡Como la flor!”
The song echoed back.
“¡Con tanto amor!”
“Morning, Lita!” he called over the noise.
“Vas a estar tarde a la escuela,” she sang. For as old as she was, Lita’s feet were still quick enough to keep step with the music, her hips swaying in time.
“I know, I know,” Yadriel said. He made to grab some food, but Lita caught his wrist and pulled him to her with surprising strength. Holding him tight, she danced and continued to croon loudly. Yadriel cringed but let her drag him around the kitchen table for the length of the chorus. At least there were no witnesses this time.
Singing and dancing around the kitchen used to be a group activity led by his mom. It always involved laughter and, of course, whiny resistance from him and Diego. Though Yadriel secretly enjoyed it and had just put on a show so his brother didn’t think he was a dork.
But now, the close proximity and Lita’s tight embrace felt suffocating. He squirmed until Lita finally released him.
Yadriel grabbed the wooden spoon and scooped up some rice and beans. He took a large bite, but as soon as it touched his tongue, sharp pain lit up the cut. Eyes watering, he forced himself to quickly swallow it down. He was starving, but he also needed to hurry and get to Maritza and Julian, so he dug through the Tupperware drawer. He could eat on the way to school.
On the counter sat a small, ancient TV showing the local Spanish news station. Yadriel paused, staring intently at the screen and reading the marquee and list of upcoming topics. The box next to the news anchor showed a live car chase through downtown. For Los Angeles, live car chases were about as reliable as the hourly weather update.
There was no mention of Julian or park muggers.
Okay, maybe the latter happened a bit too often to make it into the top new stories, but shouldn’t a missing teenager raise some kind of alarms? He hadn’t even gotten an AMBER Alert on his phone. Hadn’t someone reported Julian missing by now? His friends? His brother?
And what about Miguel?
“Ay!” The sharp snap of a dish towel against his butt made Yadriel jump. “Get some food and hurry up!”
“Where’s Dad and Diego? Still out looking for Miguel?” Yadriel asked, yanking out a small, orange-stained Tupperware.
Lita sighed heavily, bobbing her head. “Sí, been looking all night.” She tutted, waving a hand through the air. “Todavía nada.”
Still nothing?
Yadriel frowned as he scooped some food into the Tupperware. How was that possible? Had the search dogs not picked up anything, either? How could Miguel die in their own neighborhood without anyone seeing or knowing at least something? Yadriel had so many questions he wanted to ask, but Julian and Maritza were waiting for him, and Lita was shooing him again.