Page 21 of Espíritu

The four of them made their way out of the apartment, the usual chatter quieter than normal. As they walked down the street, Julian could feel the tension in the group, a silent wedge that seemed to grow the closer they got to school. He tried to shake it off, to focus on anything else, but the throbbing in his chest wouldn’t let him.

Julian caught up with Yadriel and Maritza by the front steps of the school, trying to ignore how the weight in his chest dragged at every stride.

Yadriel leaned closer, voice pitched low. “Got your text. Let’s talk about it later, okay?”

Julian nodded. Good. A plan. Finally.

Maritza gave him a quick once-over, her freshly done curls bouncing as she squinted. “Don’t you dare pass out on me in bio, Diaz. I’m not doing CPR.”

Julian snorted. “Relax. I’m unkillable, remember?” At least he was before the mark appeared.

Between periods, Julian ducked through crowded hallways toward Yadriel’s locker, stealing quick kisses whenever he could slip past the tide of students. Just little brushes of mouths—fast, secret, perfect—before someone’s backpack nearly took him out or a teacher shouted for everyone to keep moving. Every kiss was a breath of warmth before the world snapped back into reality.

Julian waved at the kid with the beat-up duffel bag who camped out by the gym, already unzipping it to reveal his black-market snack stash.

“Got Takis and chamoy pickles!” the kid stage-whispered.

Julian snorted. “Bro, it’s nine in the morning.”

A trio of girls had claimed the bathroom doorway as an impromptu piercing studio—one holding ice to a friend’s earlobe while another hovered with a sewing needle and terrifying confidence. Julian pretended he saw nothing.

Classes dragged on like molasses, each minute ticking by slower than the last. The lectures felt endless, the teachers’ voices blurring into one long drone in Julian’s head. At lunch, he met up with Maritza and Yadriel behind the science building, their usual quiet spot.

Maritza ranted about a group project gone wrong, Yadriel tried to calm her down, and Julian just soaked it all in—their jokes, the way they made him feel normal again. He even managed to spend a few minutes with Omar, Rocky, and Luca in the courtyard before the bell rang, the four of them crowded around one too-small bench, laughing at Rocky’s terrible impressions of her math teacher. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

When the bell rang, Julian slumped into his graffiti-tagged desk, feeling as though he were fighting an uphill battle against boredom and restlessness. The classroom clock ticked with that slow kind of agony that only a high schooler forced to sit through a lecture on cellular mitosis could understand.

Julian’s rebellion that day was quieter—confined to the restless shuffle of his sneakers, the gnawing urge to bolt from the room, and the frustrated sighs slipping from his lips. He tapped his pen against the desk. Out the window, East LA sprawled beneath a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at, but inside, the beige walls of the classroom seemed to close in on him, pressing down, suffocating.

His brain darted from one thought to the next, a hyperactive squirrel, as Mrs. Garza’s voice droned on in the background, her words blending into a dull hum.

“Mr. Diaz.” Mrs. Garza’s voice sliced through his wandering thoughts. “Is there something more interesting outside?”

“Sorry, Mrs. G,” Julian muttered, though his gaze drifted back to the window almost immediately. He couldn’t help it.

“Julian Diaz!” Mrs. Garza snapped again, jolting him back into the present.

“Earth to Julian!” someone snickered from behind, followed by a paper ball bouncing off his back.

Julian spun around, his grin sharp.

“Got something you wanna say, Rodriguez?” he challenged, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Rodriguez, one of Julian’s former soccer teammates, glared back. He had held a grudge against Julian ever since he said Rodriguez’s face looked AI generated during a match.

“Enough!” Mrs. Garza snapped, her patience frayed.

Julian turned back around, a smirk still playing on his lips, pleased to have gotten under Rodriguez’s skin. He could be a nuisance, sure, but it was only because sitting still felt like trying to hold on to smoke—impossible and maddening.

Julian raised his hand. “Mrs. Garza, can I go to the bathroom?”

Mrs. Garza sighed heavily. There were only twenty minutes left in the school day. “Make it quick, Mr. Diaz,” she said, waving a hand toward the door. “You get five minutes.”

Julian bolted out of the classroom, a feeling of freedom washing over him as he strolled down the hallway. On his phone was a new message from Flaca—a picture of a sandwich she’d flirted her way into getting for lunch. Julian snickered, shaking his head.

He was tempted to text Yadriel for some stolen time together, and his thumb hovered over his boyfriend’s name, but Yads was probably being a responsible student.

Later, he told himself, tucking the phone back into his pocket.