a short amount of time? Exhaustion plowed into him like a truck.
Next to him, Julian cleared his throat. “So, uh…” Julian rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, glancing around. “Where’s your house?”
Yadriel sighed and followed Maritza down the path flanked by squat mausoleums. “There,” he said, nodding to the church looming in the distance. “We live in the little house next to the church.” Smoke still billowed from the crooked chimney.
“Yo, you live in a graveyard?” Julian asked in bewilderment.
Yadriel shifted the weight of his backpack. He was used to the strange looks and laughs that came when people at school found out he was the weird kid who lived in a cemetery. Throw in being openly trans, and he was very used to stares and jokes. “Yeah,” he said, anticipating a similar reaction.
Instead, a wicked grin curled Julian’s lips. “Sick,” he said, nodding his approval.
A surprised laugh jumped in Yadriel’s chest. He gave Julian a curious look, studying his profile as he stared ahead at the church. He had a heavy brow and a sloping nose that ran in a straight line from his forehead. Classically handsome. He looked just like the stone statues that adorned the alcoves of the church. An Aztec warrior reincarnated.
When Julian caught him watching, Yadriel quickly looked away.
“Oh!” Julian said, as if suddenly remembering something. “You’ve got food, right?” he asked. “’Cause I wasn’t joking about being hungry.”
Yadriel huffed an irritated sigh. “Gotta get you past my abuelita first.” He gestured for Julian to follow. “But she’s been cooking all day.”
“Homemade food by your grandma?” Julian burst out, unable to contain himself.
“Sssh!”
“Oh—” He dropped his voice. “Sorry.”
He moved closer to Yadriel. A chill tickled the back of his neck.
“Wait, can ghosts eat food?” Julian asked in his ear, very concerned.
Santa Muerte, help me.
FIVE
Yadriel crept up the steps, Maritza and Julian following close behind. Blue light flickered against the lace drapes of the front window.
At least Yadriel knew his dad was still out, which was a relief, and not just because Yadriel was about to sneak a spirit into the house right under his nose. After their blowup earlier, Yadriel still wasn’t ready to face him. His stomach twisted thinking about his dad’s inevitable attempt at an awkward apology.
Julian was actually a welcome distraction, and an excuse to avoid his family altogether.
Said dead boy was currently wandering the front porch and getting way too close to the windows, apparently without a care in the world. Julian reached for the wind chime hanging from the awning, his fingers going right through the pieces of polished glass.
“Hey! Get over here!” Yadriel hissed, waving him back.
On her tiptoes, Maritza was able to see through the small window cut into the top of the front door. “She’s sleeping,” she said with a smug look. “Told you.”
Slowly, Yadriel pushed the front door open, and it let out a low creak. He waited for a moment, but when he heard deep, rattling snores, he knew they were in the clear. Yadriel slid through the door, closely followed by Maritza, and Julian trailed behind.
Lita sat in her armchair in front of the TV, head leaned back and mouth wide open. Yadriel closed the door behind them as quietly as possible.
Meanwhile, Julian just strolled right inside. “Whoa, when’s the party?” he chuckled, looking around at all the stacks of decorations.
A sharp snore from Lita made Yadriel and Maritza jump. Yadriel froze, heart pounding in his chest, but she only stirred a little before falling back into the sawing rhythm. A telenovela played on the TV.
“Santa Muerte,” Maritza whispered, pressing her palm to her forehead.
“Julian, shut up!” Yadriel glared at him, cutting his hand through the air.
He ducked, holding his hands up in concession.
Yadriel led the way to the kitchen, motioning for the other two to follow.
The small kitchen was still warm with the smell of cinnamon, sweet bread, and pozole. A huge Crock-Pot simmered near the sink. Trays of pan de muerto and colorful concha took up all the counter space. A large clay pot sat on the stove from an earlier batch of café de olla.
Julian’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a breath, but before he could make another outburst, Yadriel shot him a glare, holding his finger up to his lips. Julian nodded, his eyes roving over all the treats.
“Seriously, what’s all of this for?” he asked in a whisper. Or in what was apparently a whisper by Julian standards, which wasn’t much of a