“I mean, Flaca isn’t any less of a girl just because other people look at her and don’t see her as one,” Julian went on. “Just because she’s not on hormones or whatever, or ’cause she’s not ‘passing,’ doesn’t mean other people get to decide who she is. And the same goes for you.”
Heat bloomed in Yadriel’s cheeks.
“You don’t owe anybody shit,” Julian told him, stormy anger brewing behind dark eyes.
He was kind of an asshole. Julian was abrasive, sometimes rude, and didn’t seem to have much tact. But, for some reason, Yadriel’s heart still fluttered in his chest.
He blinked at Julian, not knowing what to say. It seemed way too easy, way too idyllic. Things didn’t just work like that in the real world.
It wasn’t enough to have summoned Julian, to have been bound to his portaje, or for Lady Death’s blessing to flow through him with its golden light. He needed to do everything the men could do before asking the brujx to accept him into the community. He couldn’t leave any gaps for them to question.
He loved his family, and the worst possible thing would be for them to shun him entirely. He saw how they treated him, and Tío Catriz. If they found out what Yadriel was up to, before he was able to successfully release a spirit, he was worried they—including his dad—would cast him out for good.
But how could he explain that to Julian?
“I kind of wish I could trade my family for yours,” Yadriel said with a weak laugh. They weren’t even blood, but in the short time he’d interacted with them, he could see how fiercely they cared for one another. Especially Julian.
“I wouldn’t trade them for the world,” Julian said solidly.
Yadriel smiled. He envied whoever Julian gave his fiery devotion to. It was a warm and unyielding force to be shielded by.
“They seem nice.”
Julian gave him a withering look.
Okay, so maybe he hadn’t seen much “friendliness,” except from Luca.
“Well, Omar seems kinda intense,” Yadriel conceded.
“He is.” Julian grinned affectionately, toying with the end of Purrcaso’s flicking tail.
Yadriel thought about all the rumors Maritza’s friends had said at school and Julian’s intense reaction. “Is he … you know, in a gang?”
His eyes snapped to Yadriel. “What?”
Clearly a misstep. Yadriel tried to backpedal. “Uh, former gang member?”
Julian’s laugh was sharp. “No.” He traced shapes onto the windowpane with his finger. Casually, he added, “But Luca was.”
It was Yadriel’s turn to balk. “What? Luca?” His mind spun. The sweet boy with the shy smile? It didn’t add up. “But—but he’s so— He doesn’t fit—”
“’Course he does,” Julian said impatiently. “They steer clear of Omar. Wouldn’t be able to pull him in without an all-out fight. Too much work. But Luca?” Julian shook his head in that frustrated way parents did when their kids did something stupid. “You saw him. He’s like a puppy—just wants to fit in and for people to like him. He’d do anything to feel like part of a family. He’s easy prey for gangs.”
Julian sounded annoyed, angry, even, but Yadriel wasn’t sure if it was with Luca or the ones who had taken advantage of him.
Probably both.
“His parents don’t give a shit about him,” Julian continued, his lip curling in distaste. “Most of the time, they don’t even notice if he’s home, and when they do, they treat him like garbage. They make him sleep outside for any damn thing, like leaving a dirty dish in the sink. His piece-of-shit dad used to use his arm like an ashtray.” Julian’s anger was palpable, like an electric storm in the air around him. “He didn’t show up for picture day because he had a black eye.”
Yadriel’s stomach gave a sickened lurch. “Jesus…” He understood Julian’s anger. He’d only met Luca a few hours ago, and the thought of someone causing him harm made his blood boil.
“He got sucked into one as soon as he started high school,” Julian continued. “We didn’t see him for weeks, and his parents didn’t care. One less thing for them to worry about, I guess. By the time we tracked him down, he was living in a drug den and had gotten branded with tattoos.” Julian ran a finger along the side of his face.
Yadriel remembered Luca’s scar. “What happened?” he asked, knowing the answer would be ugly.
“My brother, Rio.” Julian’s expression softened just a touch. “He’d been in the same gang when he was our age. He went and got Luca, which is not easy.” Julian shrugged. “I never asked how he managed it. Maybe they owed him or something? I dunno. But you don’t get to just leave. When Rio brought Luca home, they’d burned all his tattoos off.”
Yadriel sucked in a breath, and Julian must’ve heard it because he added, “Usually, it’s blood in, blood out, so it was a better alternative.”
Yadriel involuntarily cringed. That was a sort of pain he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Even just getting a burn from the oven was nearly unbearable.
“Rio’s got the same kind of scars on his arm. Luca was laid up on our couch for weeks. It was like if he wasn’t sleeping, he was just moaning in pain,” Julian said, wincing as if he could still hear it in his head.
“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?”
“No health insurance. Luca got real sick, we did everything we could, but it still got infected. He got a fever. My brother heard about this lady who did, like, natural healing stuff? Y’know, weird herbs that smell terrible, made him drink stuff that looked like dishwater. After a few days he felt better. His scar looks way better than Rio’s now. Whatever she did worked.”
“I wonder if it was a bruja,” Yadriel said.
Julian looked over at him. “You think?”
Yadriel shrugged. “Kind of sounds like it, doesn’t it? If he was in that bad of shape, and she healed him that quickly…” It definitely seemed in the realm of possibility.
“So there’s witches out there who can heal people like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And they’re just handing out favors to poor folks?”
“Well, some of them are doctors,” Yadriel explained. “Maritza’s sister, Paola, is in medical school right now—”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Julian frowned.
Yadriel scowled, feeling suddenly defensive. “Does it matter, if they’re still helping people?”
Julian jutted his chin and shrugged.
“Anyway, we have to afford to live, somehow, so they get jobs where they can use their healing. And, like you said, some of them run little businesses right out of their homes and disguise it as naturopathy. That’s what my mom did.” Yadriel’s eyes slid over to the framed photo of his mom. It was cast in shadows, but he could still make out her white teeth and big smile. “Sometimes she wouldn’t even take payment, either, even though it cost her every time she healed.”
“Ah, right. Bigger tasks take more magic, y’all only have so much to tap into, yada yada yada.” Julian nodded, recalling their conversation from the other day.