“My dad used to drive us up here,” Julian said quietly at Yadriel’s side.
Yadriel tilted his head. Julian sat with his feet planted on the hood of the car. His chin was propped on his folded arms, resting on his knees. His dark eyes stared up.
“Best view of the stars,” he said, squinting one eye shut as he held his palm up, lining up the sparse stars between his fingers. The orange haze of the city lights chased them off to the horizon, where the sky turned inky-black.
Yadriel watched him silently for a moment, quite liking the mental picture of Julian, his dad, and his brother up there, admiring the view. A trio of boys from East Los Angeles stargazing in Malibu.
“Who are the pictures of?” Yadriel asked, rolling onto his side and leaning his cheek against his fist.
“Pictures?”
“Yeah.” Yadriel jerked his chin toward the pocket on the dashboard. “In the car.”
“Oh!” Julian slid off the hood and leaned in through the open window. There was some rustling and then he was back, scooting up next to Yadriel.
“Just old pictures of us and our dad.”
Yadriel sat up. They sat cross-legged, facing each other.
“That’s him,” Julian said, holding the picture for Yadriel to see. Yadriel had never heard him speak with such gentle warmth.
Julian’s dad stood in the center of the photo. He was tall and lean with a buzzed head and some sparse facial hair. His eyes squinted as he flashed his teeth at the camera, somewhere between a laugh and a growl. He held up Julian and Rio under each arm, flexing his strength in front of what Yadriel recognized as the mechanic shop.
“He looks nice,” Yadriel said, unable to keep from smiling.
“He was,” Julian agreed, beaming.
“What’s his name?”
“Ramon,” Julian told him, his tongue rolling through the r.
Julian couldn’t have been older than ten. He was doubled over, knees tucked and gripping his dad’s arm as he was held aloft, laughing hard. It was possible Ramon was tickling him, his large hand across Julian’s chest, his fingers pressed into that sensitive spot under the collarbone.
“Oh man.” Yadriel laughed. “Look at your hair!” Instead of being shaved down, younger Julian’s hair was a mass of unruly, tight curls.
“Photogenic as hell, right?” Julian grinned. “Rio’s always been a bit camera shy.”
Rio was held under his dad’s other arm. He was smiling, but his lips were pressed together. He clung to his dad’s shoulder, his face partially turned away from the camera and toward Ramon’s chest.
Yadriel took the stack of photos and thumbed through the rest. One was of Ramon and Rio leaning over the popped hood of an old Cadillac. Ramon was pointing at something, and Rio’s face was very serious, studious. Meanwhile, Julian was off to the side, scooting around on one of those wooden creepers mechanics used to get under cars.
There were some school pictures, too. Rio sat with a straight back, another tight-lipped smile, and a tie done neatly around his neck. In contrast, Julian’s eyes were squinted shut and he was smiling in a way that looked like he was trying to show all his teeth at once. His tie was loose and crooked, the left side of his collar sticking up.
In another photo, they sat in a line on the curb. Julian and Rio sat between Ramon and Carlos—the man Julian had said owned the shop with his father. Ramon sat next to Rio, grinning at the camera while Rio smiled up at him. Carlos was on the other side, a finger hooked over his chin as it jutted forward, mean-mugging the camera. He leaned onto Julian, who bent under the weight of his arm, laughing as he tried to push him off.
Yadriel stared at the boy sitting next to him. A boy with a bright smile and an easy laugh. Who liked skateboarding the streets of Los Angeles and stargazing on the roof of his dad’s car. Who would do anything to protect his friends. Reckless and brilliant.
The aching in Yadriel threatened to swallow him whole. Julian was still there, but Yadriel’s body was already mourning the loss.
But he knew this wasn’t sustainable. No one was meant to last as a spirit floating between two worlds, but especially not Julian. He was a boy made of fire who’d been turned to frost. He was meant to burn.
“This isn’t how I would’ve pictured someone wanting to spend their last day,” Yadriel said, fiddling with Julian’s medal around his neck. “But it’s very