Julian snapped out of his daze. His face went from white to bright red in a matter of seconds. A cool gust of wind kicked up the fallen leaves that littered the ground.
“Oh yeah.” Patrice nodded. “I almost forgot about that!”
“That’s because—” Julian started, seething between his bared teeth.
“The violent gene must run in the family,” Alexa told them, flicking her hair back over her shoulder. “Apparently his dad was a sicario. He ran away to Los Angeles, but they found him anyways and killed him in the middle of the—”
Julian’s shout drowned out the rest of her words. “SHUT UP!”
Yadriel and Maritza both jumped. The other three didn’t seem to notice, but then Julian moved, and a gasp caught in Yadriel’s throat. There was a sharp gust of wind as Julian swung his leg. His foot connected with the soccer ball, and it went flying across the quad. Yadriel couldn’t see where it landed in the sea of students, but he did hear the disgruntled shouts in the distance.
Alexa, Letti, and Patrice all gasped, looking around wildly for an explanation of what had just happened.
Julian stormed off toward the field, leaving a rush of cold wind in his wake.
“What the hell was that?” Alexa demanded, trying to comb out her wind-tangled hair with her fingers.
Yadriel leaped up from his seat. Maritza looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.
“I gotta go,” he said.
As he rushed after Julian, he heard Maritza say behind him, “Must be those Santa Ana winds! It is that time of year.”
“They’re so crazy!” came Letti’s voice. “One time, they blew through and knocked my tío right off the roof when he was cleaning the gutters!”
Yadriel chased Julian out to where the blacktop met the field. He slowed to a stop where Julian crouched by the bleachers, his arms folded over his knees and shoulders hunched up to his ears. He pressed his mouth into the crook of his elbow, obsidian eyes staring out over the football field. Tiny gusts of wind swirled around him, sending leaves and cigarette butts rustling.
“Are you okay?” Yadriel asked gently after making sure there was no one around to overhear him.
“Yes,” Julian snapped, his voice muffled against his arm.
It was entirely unconvincing.
Yadriel shifted his weight between his feet. “Do you … want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Yadriel wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, but Julian was a spirit, and his hand would just pass right through. Instead, he sank down and sat, at least offering Julian his company, even if he didn’t have any words. He fiddled with blades of grass, stealing glances at Julian from the corner of his eye.
His heavy brow was bunched, deep lines pressed into his forehead as he continued to stare off into the distance. This close, Yadriel could see the frayed edges around the neck of his white tee. Julian’s buzzed haircut was uneven and a bit sloppy, like maybe he’d done it himself. He had a scar that curved through his dark hair behind his ear, down to the nape of his neck.
Everything the girls said about Julian, his friends, and his family bounced around in Yadriel’s head. He wasn’t sure he bought it—that Julian was part of some gang and dealing drugs, one step away from ending up in jail. He thought about Julian’s reaction. That look on his face, and his burst of anger. Sure, Yadriel barely knew him, but the guy in front of him just didn’t fit their description. Julian told him he didn’t have any parents, but that didn’t mean they were in jail or killed by a rival drug cartel. If it was just rumors, well, Yadriel knew plenty well what that was like.
And even if the rumors were true, did that matter? Would Yadriel change his mind about wanting to help him because he was a gang member or drug dealer? It did make him a little anxious, but still.
Right now, Yadriel could see him as he was; just a dead boy who was worried about his friends. He wanted to make sure they were okay, and probably wanted nothing more than to go home.
Yadriel could at least help him with one of those.
In the distance, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.
“Hey,” Yadriel said.
Julian’s eyes finally flickered to his face.
“Let’s get the rest of school over with so we can go find your friends,” Yadriel told him. “Okay?”
Julian stared at him, and for a moment, Yadriel was convinced he wasn’t going to budge or even reply. But then he dragged the back of his hand against his mouth and stood up. “Yeah.”
Yadriel stood up, too, and jerked his head back toward the school. “Come on, math class is this way.”
Julian followed without protest.
EIGHT
The rest of the day went without incident. Julian was unnaturally quiet, so much so that Yadriel found himself wishing he’d go back to his mischief making. Ms. Costanzo, the math teacher, had to remind Yadriel twice to keep his eyes on his own test. He kept glancing to where Julian sat at the back of the classroom, knees bouncing as he silently stared out the window.
When school finally let out, they met up with Maritza and started the walk back home.
Julian wandered up ahead. Yadriel exchanged worried looks with Maritza. He really couldn’t take Julian’s silence anymore.
“So, uh…” Yadriel jogged a couple of steps to catch up to him. “Your friends weren’t at school, huh?” he said, trying to nudge him into conversation.
“They’re fine,” Julian said, and his pinched expression told Yadriel that this was not the way to lighten his spirits. “They just ditch a lot, y’know?” Julian nodded, as if trying to encourage himself. “They’re fine.”
Yadriel looked back to Maritza for some guidance, but all she did was lift her shoulders in an exaggerated shrug.
“It was pretty cool that you were able to kick that soccer ball,” he tried.
Julian blinked, as if he’d forgotten.
“Soon you should be slamming doors and moving furniture around,” Yadriel told him with an awkward laugh. “What with Día de Muertos a couple days out, you’ll be full ghost mode in no time. Though,” he added as an afterthought, “maybe no more outbursts in front of the non-brujx?”
Julian’s grin was back, albeit sheepish. “Yeah, my bad.”
He wasn’t back to 100 percent, but he was getting there, and Yadriel would take what he could get. “Maybe work on the impulse control while you’re at it.”
Julian let out a short laugh. “Noted.”
“Great, now that the pity party is over—” Maritza slipped between them. Julian rolled his eyes at Yadriel over the top of her head, and he couldn’t help but grin back. “We need to stop by my place so I can drop off my crap. Can’t go running the streets of East LA like hoodlums if I’m weighed down by my chemistry textbook,” she said, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulder for emphasis.
Luckily, Maritza’s family lived one block over from the cemetery, so it was a quick stop on the way. It was a squat yellow house with a chain-link fence wrapped around it. The gate had a BEWARE OF DOGS sign, and both her parents’ cars were parked in the driveway.
“You stay here,” Maritza told Julian, pointing to her mom’s silver minivan.