“Wow,” Yadriel said. “You don’t do this often, do you?”
Julian finally turned to him with a frown. “Do what?”
Yadriel grinned. “Apologize.”
“Tch,” he hissed between his teeth. “Man, screw you!” He threw the ball of paper at Yadriel, and it bounced off his forehead and landed on the bed between them.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Yadriel insisted, laughter shaking his words. Julian huffed, and Yadriel forced himself to swallow down the chuckles.
A quiet moment stretched out, accompanied by the gentle flow of music.
“Why do you have to prove that you’re a brujo—a guy—to them?” Julian suddenly asked, scowling up at the ceiling.
The question took Yadriel by surprise. Julian was probably still thinking about what he’d heard during the sarcophagus incident.
“Why do you have to prove anything to anyone?”
Yadriel shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just how it is, how it’s always been. In order for them to let me be a brujo—”
“You don’t need anyone’s permission to be you, Yads,” he cut in, frustration starting to edge his voice again.
And Yadriel was getting irritated himself. “Because—”
“I mean, you summoned me, so you have the brujo powers, right?” he went on. He picked up the balled-up paper again and fiddled with it absentmindedly. “Like, is this Lady deciding who counts as a man and who counts as a woman? What about nonbinary people? Or intersex? Or agender?”
Yadriel was surprised Julian even knew what those words meant. “I’m the first trans brujx—” he tried to explain, but Julian interrupted him with a sarcastic laugh.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am!”
Julian shook his head and rolled onto his side so he could properly look at Yadriel. “Nah, there’s no way.”
When Yadriel tried to argue, Julian cut him off.
“There’s no way y’all have been around for thousands of years without there being one person not fitting into the ‘men are this, women are that’ bullshit.” Julian sounded so convinced, so sure. His obsidian eyes locked onto Yadriel’s. “Maybe they hid it, or ran away, or I dunno, something else, but there’s no way you’re the first, Yads.”
All Yadriel could do was stare at him.
He didn’t know what to say. He spent so much time feeling isolated—convinced that he was a one-off, an outlier no one knew what to do with—he’d never considered that, somewhere along the line, there had been other brujx like him.
When he didn’t respond, Julian flopped onto his back, pressing the paper ball between his palms. “Seems like the magic knows, right?” Julian thought out loud. “Or Lady Death does—whatever makes those decisions. You did the ceremony, and you were able to summon me, right?”
“Yeah,” Yadriel said, still hung up on the previous revelation.
Julian nodded. “So, she gets it.” The corner of his lips pulled into a grin. “That’s pretty cool.”
Yadriel looked across at his statue of Lady Death on his altar. Of course she knew—she saw who Yadriel really was. She’d made that clear when she blessed him with his portaje. But he hadn’t considered that there was an entirely lost history of brujx like him. Julian was right; it seemed obvious now. There was no way he was the first, and he wouldn’t be the last.
“So,” Julian prompted again. “Why isn’t that enough?”
“It won’t be enough for the rest of the brujx,” Yadriel pushed back. “They’ll need more proof.”
“Not good enough for them, or not good enough for you?” Julian asked, finally looking over at him.
The question struck him in the chest. “It’s complicated—”
“Because—and I’m not trying to back out of our deal, here—but if this is just to prove yourself to them—”
“They’re my family—”
“Well, screw them, if they’re making you go through all this crap!” Julian snapped.
Yadriel was caught between wanting to defend his family and appreciating what Julian was trying to say. Mostly, he was tired and frustrated. He was tired of fighting, on all fronts. “It’s not that simple—”
“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.”