“I didn’t mean to say…” His father squinted, looking for the right words.
Yadriel swallowed hard. It didn’t seem fair for his dad to look so conflicted, and for Yadriel to feel bad about it. He wanted to hang on to his anger. He deserved to be angry, didn’t he? But that still didn’t keep him from feeling guilty. Even if his dad said and did stupid, hurtful things, he was still his dad, and there was something particularly unsettling about seeing him upset.
But right now, he just needed to rush through this conversation so his dad would leave. “Look, Dad, seriously, it’s fine—”
“I’m still learning.” He exhaled a short laugh. “Your mamá was better at this. And without her here—” He paused, his brow suddenly furrowing as he looked past Yadriel. “Without her…,” he tried again but trailed off, eyes wandering to the sarcophagus.
Yadriel tensed. “Dad,” he said, trying to regain his attention.
Enrique started, his gaze going back to Yadriel.
“Can we not do this right now?” Yadriel edged around the stone slab so he was standing between his dad and where Julian was hidden. “I’m in a hurry.”
His dad frowned, deep creases tugging down his mouth below his mustache. “But—”
“Maritza’s waiting for me—”
“No quise lastimarte, Yadriel.” Enrique’s voice was quiet when he spoke, giving Yadriel pause.
His fingers tightened into fists. A sour mix of guilt, anger, and embarrassment tumbled in his stomach. Red-hot shame burned in his cheeks as he stared down at his shoes.
Yadriel bit back his knee-jerk reaction to say “It’s okay,” because it wasn’t. It didn’t change what his dad had said. If it had been a mistake, his slip of the tongue was more telling than his apologies.
Why did Yadriel always have to absolve people of their guilt? He didn’t want to be understanding. He didn’t have it in him to be forgiving this time.
His dad’s words went unanswered as Diego’s and Sandra’s voices floated to them between the headstones.
Yadriel heard his dad exhale a sigh.
“We’re having dinner tonight,” he said. “Home before it gets dark, okay?”
“Okay.” There was a long moment before, finally, his dad forced a weak smile, turned, and went back to Diego and Sandra.
Yadriel waited, feeling his heart beat out the seconds in his chest, before the three finally headed back toward the house.
Quickly, Yadriel turned and knocked his knuckles against the lid of the sarcophagus. “Julian!” he said in a harsh whisper. “You can stop hiding—”
Julian fell through the stone, landing hard on his back. He scrambled away, letting out a strangled yelp as he batted at his arms and legs. “Is it on me?” he demanded. He looked ridiculous, twisting his neck this way and that to check himself, for cobwebs or bone dust, Yadriel wasn’t sure what.
“There’s nothing on you,” Yadriel told him, trying not to laugh.
Julian’s chest heaved up and down, pulling against his white T-shirt. He had a horrified look on his face as he stared up at Yadriel, dark eyes wild. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “That was disgusting—”
“Get up, we gotta get out of here before someone sees us,” Yadriel told him, heading for the gate.
Julian rushed to his feet and chased after him, brushing off his arms as he ran. “It was dark and it smelled and I touched something slimy—” Julian broke off with a violent shudder. “Holy shit, I don’t know how long that body’s been in there, but clearly not long enough!” His face contorted in disgust. “Why couldn’t it have just been a skeleton?”
“It takes like eight to twelve years for that to happen,” Yadriel told him as they rounded a columbaria.
Julian shuddered again, letting out a shaky breath. When he caught up, Yadriel could feel him staring.
“What?” he snapped between clenched teeth, feeling raw, his nerves exposed.
“That was awkward,” Julian stated plainly.
A surprised laugh bucked in Yadriel’s chest at Julian’s complete lack of filter. His unabashed honesty was blunt, but it was also refreshing to not deal with pretense.
“Yeah, it was,” Yadriel agreed. The towering gate groaned as he opened it and slipped through.
Julian opened his mouth, and Yadriel fully expected a slew of questions to come pouring out, but Maritza saved the day.
“The hell took so long?” She stood by the stone wall, a hand on her hip and scowling. The boys flanked her.
Julian backpedaled several steps, his palms held up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”
The “boys” were two seventy-five-pound pit bulls. They sat on either side of Maritza, their large, square heads coming up to the middle of her thighs. With cropped ears and silvery-blue coats, they sat still, looking more like stone gargoyles than dogs. They wore wide leather collars around their necks and harnesses that attached to a belt around Maritza’s waist.
“We got hung up,” Yadriel answered before addressing Julian. “What, are you afraid of dogs?”
“Those are not dogs!” Julian declared, pointing.
Yadriel rolled his eyes and turned. “Donatello, Michelangelo!” he called. Immediately, their jowls dropped, tongues happily lolling.
“Like the Ninja Turtles?” Julian asked, still hovering at a safe distance.
“No,” Maritza snapped, shooting him a glare. “Like the Italian Renaissance artists, pendejo.” She stumbled as they both surged for Yadriel.
Julian held up his palms. “Yikes, my bad.”
“Like I’d name my beautiful dogs after some dumb cartoon turtles,” Maritza groused.
Donatello and Michelangelo jostled Yadriel, getting globs of drool on his jeans as they clamored for scratches. When he and Maritza wanted to go hang out around the city after school, Maritza’s parents usually made them take the boys. Even if they were gentle giants, they were terrifying to look at. People gave them a wide berth, always opting to cross the street than pass them on the sidewalk.
“You’re nothing but big softies, aren’t you?” Yadriel cooed. “Julian’s just a big baby, isn’t he?” He shot Julian a pointed look.
Julian scowled in response but still didn’t budge.
Maritza snickered.
“It’s not like they can bite you,” Yadriel pointed out. “Anyways, they can’t even see you.” He straightened before they could knock him over in their excitement.
“They can’t?” Cautiously, Julian moved closer. As if to check, he waved his hand in front of Donatello’s face. For a moment, the large dog sniffed at the air, but he went back to licking Yadriel’s knee. “How come your cat can, but they can’t?” he asked.
Yadriel looked down at them.
Michelangelo’s whole body wiggled when he was excited, so much so that his own tail kept smacking him in the face. Donatello, the bigger of the two, sat back on his haunches, eyes half-lidded, panting and drooling happily up at Yadriel.
“That’s why.” Yadriel grinned.
Julian laughed, his shoulders relaxing back into his usual air of careless ease.
“I resent your implication.” Maritza sniffed indignantly, bumping Michelangelo out of the way with her hip. “My dad rescued them from some sketchy guy outside of a grocery store trying to sell them out of a cardboard box. See their ears?” She rubbed her thumb against the short nub of what was left of Donatello’s right ear. “That’s called a battle crop. People do that when they’re breeding pit bulls for dog fighting,” she explained. “So there’s nothing for their opponent to rip off in a fight.”
“Same reason I keep my hair short,” Julian said casually as he ran his palm over his dark, buzzed hair.
Yadriel stared at him. Was he being serious? He eyed that curved scar behind his ear again.
“They were supposed to be trained as search dogs, the kind we use to track down tethers,” Yadriel told him. “But they didn’t pass the test.”
“That doesn’t mean I love them any less,” Maritza cooed, planting a kiss on top of their large, square heads.
“We’re just one redhead in go-go boots short of our own Scooby gang,” Julian said, looking pleased with himself.
“Are you implying I’m a Velma?” Maritza demanded. “I’m a Fred!”
“Obviously, I’m Fred,” Julian went on, as if he hadn’t heard her.
Maritza scoffed, and they dove headfirst into bickering about who was more of a Fred.
Yadriel shook his head. “Hey!” He had to snap his fingers before they’d shut up long enough to look at him. “So where are we going? Where do your friends hang out?”
“Bunch of places.” Julian thought for a moment. “But if they’re trying to lay low…” He trailed off, as if he didn’t like the answer. He gave his head a small shake. “There’s an underpass by the train tracks we hang out at; let’s try that first.”
“Is it walkable?” Yadriel asked. “We can’t exactly get on the bus with these two.”
“Yeah, we don’t have fancy bus passes.”