“Fancy” was the last word Yadriel would use to describe the flimsy card his parents purchased with his student discount.
“We walk everywhere, or ride.” As if remembering, Julian added, “Man, I hope they found my skateboard.”
Maritza shot Yadriel a criticizing look. He only shrugged in response.
“Hey, is your birthday next month?” she asked Julian.
He blinked. “Yeah, the thirteenth—Wait, how did you—?”
Maritza’s face was a picture of smugness. “See?” she said to Yadriel. “Told you.” With that, she turned and began walking in the direction of the train tracks. Donatello and Michelangelo led the way as her barrel-chested bodyguards.
“But how did you—?” He turned to Yadriel. “How did she know that?”
“Call it witchy intuition!” Maritza said over her shoulder.
Yadriel couldn’t keep himself from laughing as he jogged to catch up. Julian chased after them, demanding answers.
TEN
The farther they got from home, the more unsure Yadriel was about this plan. Afternoon LA traffic kept the streets packed, and the air filled with the sounds of honking, sirens, and bumping subwoofers battling for dominance. But as they followed the train tracks, the main roads started to clear until the sounds of traffic were just a droning in the distance. Empty tracks stretched out before them.
The path was littered with broken brown bottles, fast-food wrappers, and cigarette butts. Donatello and Michelangelo enjoyed snuffling through the debris as Maritza tried, in vain, to stop them.
A man in a large black jacket with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets walked toward them. When he spotted Donatello and Michelangelo, he crossed to the other side of the street, staring intensely as they passed.
“If we get mugged or kidnapped, I’m going to be pissed,” Maritza told Yadriel.
He laughed, but it did little to ease the tension knotting his shoulders. “Noted.”
The warm afternoon seemed to pass right through Julian. The burning gold light that streaked across the sky and splashed against the walls of buildings didn’t touch him. Instead, he was washed in dull blue, the color of dusk.
Julian’s pace quickened until Maritza and Yadriel had to half jog to keep up with him. Donatello and Michelangelo trotted along, their massive paws shuffling over the pavement.
“Are we close?” Yadriel asked.
“It’s right up ahead!”
Yadriel tucked Julian’s necklace under his shirt. He didn’t want to have to come up with an explanation if Julian’s friends noticed it.
“Here, here, here!” Julian waved at them frantically as he raced toward a set of stairs that led down from the train tracks.
“Wait!” Yadriel called after him, panic finally getting the better of him as he chased after Julian.
Luckily, he stopped at the top of the stairs, but was poised to take off, one hand already on the railing. “What?” he demanded.
“What’s the plan here?” Yadriel asked, fidgeting with his hands.
“The plan?” Julian repeated, his face screwed up in confusion.
“Yeah, like, what are we going to say to them?”
Julian waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing, I just need to make sure they’re okay!”
“Uh.” Maritza came up to Yadriel’s side. “We can’t just walk into your friends’ hideout, be like, ‘Hey, just checking in,’ and then be on our merry way,” she told him.
Yadriel nodded enthusiastically in agreement. He was very glad to have another voice of reason.
Julian let out a groan, like coming up with a game plan was a very large inconvenience. “I’ll just tell you what to say in the moment!”
“What, like Cyrano de Bergerac?” Yadriel asked with a sarcastic laugh.
Julian blinked. “Uh … yeah.”
“Do you even know who that is?” Maritza said.
Julian scowled. “Yes!”
He was definitely lying.
“That didn’t exactly work out for him, so I really don’t think it’ll go well for us, either,” Yadriel tried to reason, but he’d already lost Julian’s attention again.
“Blah, blah, blah! It’ll be fine!” he insisted, turning back to the stairs, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Come on, they’re right over here!”
“Julian,” Yadriel hissed, but it was too late.
Julian was already halfway down the stairs when Yadriel got to them. He went as fast as he could, only tripping once when his heel caught on an uneven step. At the bottom of the stairs, Yadriel rounded the corner to find him in the concrete tunnel under the tracks. Grass grew between the crooked pavers, and small rivulets ran down wide pillars. Pavement sloped up on either side until it ran against the wall of the arch.
“Thank God,” Julian exhaled, a smile lighting up his face.
A small group of people sat among an assembly of items. A shabby tent that looked like it could barely fit two people was patched together with bits of duct tape. There were some half-filled jugs of water, what looked like a tarp, and a few other items.
The entire section of wall was covered in spray paint. It wasn’t a mural, and certainly nothing done by Banksy, but there were some colorful doodles and a slew of words, some in English, some in Spanish, and others complete gibberish. A large skull was spray-painted off to the side in shades of neon purple, pink, and blue. Most of its teeth were missing, but the ones that remained were crooked and gold. Below in lopsided black letters was HAY NIÑAS CON PENE, NIÑOS CON VULVA Y TRANSFÓBICOS SIN DIENTES. In the lower corner, it read, ST. J.
Yadriel recognized the handwriting. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
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.