“Two months now,” he had said.
“So why is he still doing that?”
His best friend had never lied to him. Why would she start now?
Every photo that Arturo had liked was of another boy. Most were of one guy, a quarterback from a high school up in Piedmont. He had liked all his selfies, one just a few hours ago. There were a bunch of selfies from other guys, too, most of them shirtless.
There were only two likes of anything Felix had posted.
He closed his phone. He shoved another Oreo in his mouth.
When he opens his eyes, Mirella is shaking her head back and forth. “Sorry,” she says. “Sometimes, the client comes through more clearly. That was…wow. You’re really angry, aren’t you?”
He does not respond. It’s too raw.
He looks back at the thermometer.
He tries to remember…something.
What was he angry about again?
He turns back to Mirella. “There are two more places,” he says. “Can we go to those, too?”
She scowls for a moment. “I don’t know, Felix.” There is a reluctance around the edges of her words. “Most people do this in multiple sessions. It can be disorienting to keep going, to test your mind and your body this much.”
“I’ll give you a fat-ass tip,” he says, and he knows he shouldn’t have—he doesn’t have that much money saved up—but he says it anyway.
She blinks. Then shrugs. “Well, I need the money,” she says. “Let’s go. Off-site?”
Felix confirms, and Mirella retrieves her cloak from his bedroom. He dons a hoodie in the living room; Mamá and Papá are pretending to read. He bids goodbye to his parents before he and Mirella leave the house, and when they look at him, the pity is still there. Is it working? their gazes appear to ask. Will you be okay?
He just inclines his head, purses his lips, then leaves.
They walk to Felix’s school, passing the garbagemen at the end of the sidewalk, who are on the block later than usual. One of them draws a rune in the air as the other uses his powers to lift the garbage bags above the truck. Suddenly, the bag is torn open and the garbage is separated from the recycling, raining down into its respective receptacle. Felix jams his hands into his hoodie, shrinks down, makes himself smaller.
He knows the worst is coming.
They dodge the mail delivery as packages and envelopes zip to mail slots and porches, and Mirella clears her throat.
“You’ll be fine,” she says. “With some time, it’ll be okay.”
“I guess,” he says. “Everyone tells me that.”
“Maybe everyone has a point.”
He fidgets.
“But they’re all on the other side of it,” he says.
She grunts. “True.”
“What makes the pain go away now?”
She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and the silence spreads between them until it feels unbearable. But then she speaks.
“Nothing does.” She twirls her fingers in front of her, and then there’s an image of a man smiling, his hair dark with curls. “He cheated on me. For months.” She whisks it away with a flick of her wrist. “And now I can look at that photo and laugh about it all with my girlfriend. But for a long time, just the thought of him made me want to never wake up again.”
She nudges Felix with her shoulder. “Feel the pain. And the sadness. And the loss. That’s the only advice I can give.”
“Thanks,” he mutters, and he means it, even if his tone doesn’t sound like it.
The school grounds are dark, shadowy, and it looks like another world, not the one Felix is familiar with. Mirella heads toward the front steps, but Felix stops her. “No,” he says. “Out here first.”
She glances around. “Here? On the…grass?”
He nods. “It has to be.” Pauses. “For…reasons.”
They stand across from one another, and they begin.
Felix rolled his eyes at Raquel. “Te lo dije,” he said, “don’t trust him.”
She slapped his arm playfully. “Well, look who’s walking by again today,” she said. She gestured behind Felix with her head.
He tried not to be too conspicuous as he looked, but he made eye contact with Arturo instantly. Shit, he thought, then cast his eyes downward to the grass.
“Nice Jordans,” someone said.
He looked up.
Right into Arturo’s eyes again.
They were brown, nearly black. Soft. Sparkling.
He wanted to get lost in them.
He had.
“Uh, thanks,” said Felix. “Got ’em from a place in Alameda.”
“Dope,” said Arturo.
He walked away.
Raquel giggled, and she was saying something, but Felix heard none of it. He stared after Arturo and admired the wideness of his shoulders, the way his ass looked in those tight jeans he wore.
It’s impossible, he told himself. He’s probably straight.
Felix takes only a few moments to recover, though Mirella gives him another look of concern. He is thankful she says nothing as he leads her around the front of the school to the west side of the main building. They’re outside Mrs. Cho’s science class, and he points in through the window.
“Is this close enough?”
She peers in through the filthy glass. “As long as you can see the root of the memory…sure.”
He can. He knows that he has to cleanse this place or he’ll never be able to concentrate here again.
They begin.
Felix tried to ignore it as best as he could. Mrs. Cho hated interruptions, and she hated when people didn’t pay attention. But he felt Raquel tap him on the back again. And again. And again.
He turned around and gave her a glare he hoped would send the message.
She held out a folded square of paper.
Is she serious? Felix thought. Is this elementary school?
He took it.
He spun back around.
He didn’t read it…at first.
As Mrs. Cho continued to talk about singularities, he ran his fingers over the edges of the paper. He wondered what was inside. Why would Raquel pass him a note when she could just text him?
He did it as quickly as he could. He drew the shape on his desk with his index finger and then whispered the spell. He flung his hands out, and the silent bubble was there; it would last thirty seconds before anyone was aware that he was using it.