Chapter Eight. Julian
EIGHT
JULIAN
The next morning, Julian jolted upright in bed, heart hammering as if he’d been running. His sheets were tangled around his legs, damp with sweat. For a second, he couldn’t breathe—shadows clawed at the corners of his vision, too dark, too heavy, like they were watching him sleep.
He blinked until the room came back into focus. The old box fan spinning, the pale gray of early morning leaking through the blinds, Rio’s bed empty and made. But the chill clung to him. And that feeling—that wrongness—hadn’t left.
He needed to talk to Yadriel. Now. Preferably ten minutes ago. To tell him what Angel said about the Marca Hueca, Luca, and whatever the hell was happening to him.
In the living room, Julian’s brain was so out of it, he tripped over someone’s shoe and crashed into the kitchen table hard enough to make it wobble like a shopping cart someone had jacked from Food 4 Less.
“Shit,” Julian hissed, hoping he hadn’t bothered anyone dozing.
Angel sat up on the floor propped against the wall, her dark layers blending into the shadowy corner. She yawned, but her catlike eyes were sharp as ever. “You always start the day with full panic energy or is this a limited-time vibe?”
He cast a quick glance around the room to make sure Omar, Flaca, Rocky, and Luca were still asleep. “Only when I’m running on four hours of sleep and a healthy dose of soul-related trauma,” he tried to joke.
Angel tilted her head. “You good?”
Not nosy. Not suspicious. Just checking.
“Aside from everything?” Julian forced a laugh and shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, sorry. Just … I didn’t sleep great.” Julian tried to play it off, but his thoughts kept looping—the mark on Luca, the voice in the dark, Angel’s words echoing in his head.
Just thinking about it made his skin crawl. He grabbed a half-empty Sprite from the counter and took a swig like it might fix his life.
“We should get going soon,” he said louder to the room.
Rocky and Luca stirred, yawning and groaning as they prepared for another day of school. Flaca remained motionless, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep, exhaustion from her new job keeping her tethered to dreams.
Omar’s spot on the couch lay empty. After Julian decided to clean up his act and start trying at school again, Omar rejoined the soccer team to “keep himself focused,” but Julian knew that meant “to keep out of trouble.”
Julian divided a brown, spotty banana into four bowls and dumped dry cereal on top. The milk jug was nearly empty—definitely not enough for four bowls. Digging around, he located a nearly finished carton way in the back. He checked the expiration date.
November 13.
It was hella expired, but November 13 was his birthday. Julian loved when things expired on his birthday—it felt like good luck, and right now he could really use it.
He dumped the clumpy milk into the sink.
“Out of milk?” Rocky asked groggily, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled into the kitchen.
“Enough for you three,” Julian said, splitting the last of the non-spoiled milk between bowls for Rocky, Luca, and Angel. “Eh, kinda,” he added.
“Thanks,” Rocky said, diving right in.
“You sure?” Luca asked, clutching his spoon as he looked up at Julian.
“Definitely!” Julian assured him, contemplating his own breakfast fate.
Cereal and orange juice? Why not? It was like breakfast with a side of rebellion. He doused his banana-laden bowl with a generous splash, the tangy aroma rising to greet him.
Angel leaned against the counter, bowl in hand. “Interesting choice,” she remarked at Julian’s experimental breakfast.
“I call it ‘culinary innovation’!” Julian said.
“Or ‘desperation,’” she quipped, earning a snort of laughter from Luca.
“I love living on the edge,” Julian said. A smirk played on his lips as he crunched down on his breakfast, the taste not entirely unpleasant.
He checked the time on his phone again. “Come on, we gotta go!” he called to Rocky and Luca.
“I’ll follow you guys out,” Angel said.
Julian shouldered his skateboard, the grip tape brushing against his jeans as he descended the creaky stairs with Rocky, Luca, and Angel in tow.
The scents of motor oil and metal shavings from the mechanic shop comforted him.
He and Rio had basically grown up in the shop since their dad used to co-own it with Carlos.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” Angel said as she walked to her car parked along the fence. She cut Julian a look. “Text me.”
“I will, promise!” Julian told her.
The clatter of skateboards echoed through the garage as Julian, Rocky, and Luca maneuvered past stacks of tires and oil drums.
A sharp whistle caught Julian’s attention. Carlos lumbered out from behind a lowrider.
“Good to see you three taking school seriously!” he said, wiping his greasy hands on a rag.
“I dunno about all that—” Julian said, but Carlos still flicked a folded bill at him. He caught it with practiced ease.
“For lunch,” he said with a knowing look. “All three of you gettin’ too skinny, man!”
“Thanks, Tío!” Julian said brightly, though he’d pocket the cash rather than spend it on food. Yadriel’s lunches were always more appealing than anything the school cafeteria dished out, and every dollar saved was another step closer to the perfect Christmas gift for him.
“Bye, Rio!” Julian hollered into the back of the shop, expecting an echo of farewell or, at best, a grunt in response.
“Wait up,” Rio called, getting up from his workbench. “I’m driving you,” he announced, jingling his car keys.
Rocky and Luca exchanged excited glances—no one passed up a free ride—but Julian groaned.
“The Stingray only fits two people!” Julian protested. “Three if we’re being illegal about it—”
“That’s why I’m only driving you,” Rio cut in, already heading toward the car.
Rocky and Luca’s excitement popped like a balloon.
“Aw, man,” Rocky groaned, throwing her head back dramatically.
“But we were going to walk with Yadriel and Maritza!” Julian objected, frustration bubbling in his veins.
“I’ll drop you off at his place,” came Rio’s clipped response.
Julian opened his mouth to protest, but Rio was already opening the car door. “You coming or what?”
Before Julian could respond, Angel called, “I can take Luca and Rocky!”
She was still by her car, the passenger door open and the seat already folded down for someone to get into the back where she’d pushed aside some of her belongings.
Rocky perked up immediately. “Seriously? Thanks, Angel!”
Julian sighed, seeing the logic in it. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Angel.” He didn’t want to be stuck in a car alone with Rio. This was probably a trap to lecture him about school or some shit for fifteen minutes.
Angel shrugged. “No worries.”
Rocky grabbed her backpack with a grin. “See? Problem solved. Let’s go.”
“We’ll see you at school?” Luca said as he reluctantly walked toward Angel’s car.
“Yeah, if I survive,” Julian grumbled, giving a sad little wave to his friends.
As the Stingray roared to life, Angel’s car disappeared around the corner. The sound of Luca’s laughter carried faintly on the breeze. Julian fought for radio supremacy, but Rio’s taste in old-school R&B overruled Julian’s preferred reggaeton tracks without mercy.
“Seriously? This station again?” Julian jabbed at the buttons, only for Rio to switch it back with a glare that dared him to try it again.
Julian dramatically threw himself back against his seat and crossed his arms. “You’re the worst DJ alive!”
“Don’t care,” Rio replied dryly.
Julian scowled out the window, bouncing one knee and chewing on the inside of his cheek. He silently prayed to Lady Death to not let Rio ask a bunch of questions. He just wanted to be dropped off at Yads’s. That was it.
Rio didn’t say anything for a long while and just let the low growl of the engine fill the silence, his expression unreadable behind his sunglasses.
“You been acting weird lately,” Rio said. Not a question.
“It’s called having a personality,” Julian grumbled.
“Mm-hm,” Rio grunted. “You disappear for hours, you show up late for stuff—”
“I said I didn’t mean to!” Julian shot back.
Rio cut him a look. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing!” Julian lied immediately. “I just want to see Yadriel!”
“You trying to see him or hide from me?”
The question hit hard. It wasn’t just a jab—it was Rio looking at Julian like he knew something was wrong.
Guilt flared hot under Julian’s skin. He hated that Rio could still read him like this, and he hated lying even more. But it wasn’t like he could tell Rio about the Marca Hueca. Or who Angel really was. Or the nightmares. Hell, he barely understood any of it himself.
Rio settled back into his seat. “I’m not trying to get in your business,” he said, relenting.
Julian’s fingers twitched against his thigh. Rio’s tone put him on edge. “I’m fine,” he insisted.
Rio scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just—do better.”
Julian swallowed, guilt sitting sharp in his throat.
Rio sighed, the fight draining out of him. “I don’t wanna yell at you, man. I don’t wanna … do any of this.” He jerked his chin at him. “’Cause I like you. Sometimes.”
A tiny huff of air escaped Julian, almost a laugh. “Wow. High praise.”
Rio didn’t answer. Just drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, like he didn’t believe a word of Julian’s lies but wasn’t going to fight Julian, not yet. The silence settled heavy between them, broken only by the growl of the engine and the hum of traffic.
The Stingray pulled up alongside the brick wall of the cemetery, and Rio cut the engine. “I’m walking you up to Yadriel’s,” he declared.
“What?!” Julian’s voice pitched higher than intended. “No need for the escort service, really!”
His heart did a jittery dance. Outsiders weren’t exactly welcome at brujx hangouts, and Rio qualified as Mr. Outsider himself.
But Rio was already getting out of the car. Julian had never let him into the graveyard before.
“Lead the way,” Rio insisted, heading for the gate and eyeing the tombstones with interest