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.