Page 3 of Espíritu

Julian grinned, breathless with how easily Yadriel could undo him. “Don’t forget about me while I’m gone.”

Yadriel let out a tiny, helpless laugh, still pink. “I literally couldn’t if I tried.”

Lita gave Julian a ride home in her ancient car that sounded like it was held together by determination and spite. Banda music blasted from the speakers, the brassy, cheerful notes rattling the loose dashboard, and Lita drove it like a bat out of hell.

Julian stumbled out of the car when she screeched to a halt in front of the mechanic shop, his legs feeling like jelly.

“Thanks, Lita!” he called as he slammed the car door shut.

“Be good, mijo!” she sang in reply. Lita gave him a bright wave before peeling out, tires squealing like she was already late for her next appointment.

Julian kicked his board up under one arm and paused at a fresh alley piece—a coyote with neon wings. The lines weren’t clean, but the colors slapped. His brain pinged like, Side quest unlocked, and he had to drag himself back on task. ADHD was like living with a thousand mini games, every new one begging him to play.

The mechanic shop took up most of the street corner, its faded sign advertising tune-ups, custom paint jobs, and hydraulic suspension repairs. The wide bay doors were rolled open, and the clank of metal on metal mixed with the rumble of engines. A tang of grease hung in the air.

“Julian!” Rio’s voice cut through the noise. He was bent under the hood of a rusted truck, sweat dripping down his temples. “Go upstairs and help with cleaning. You’re in for the night.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Julian threw a lazy salute.

Carlos, the owner, was pinstriping a sixties Impala while “Feliz Navidad” blasted overhead, loud enough to make Julian’s teeth grind. Christmas music had been a constant fixture for weeks now.

Julian trudged past, scowling with both hands clamped over his ears. “Seriously?! ‘Feliz Navidad’ again?!” he barked.

Carlos just grinned, gold tooth flashing. “Gotta keep the holiday spirit alive, kid!”

Julian rolled his eyes, hiding a smile. “I doubt that!”

He slid his fingers along the side of the Corvette Stingray as he passed it, slick from the fresh wax he and Yadriel had applied just a few days ago. He kept walking until he reached the narrow stairway on the side of the building. The music chased him up the steps. The last verse ended as he reached the door.

“Thank God,” Julian huffed to himself. The door stuck, as always, so he threw his shoulder into it until it popped open.

Inside the apartment was pure chaos. Flaca was waging war on the counters, Omar was cussing at a dust bunny like it owed him money, and Rocky’s broom spread crumbs more than it caught.

“Welcome to the Christmas edition of spring cleaning,” she said, not looking up.

Since Julian’s hospital release, they’d been doomed to extra chores. Punishment for stealing the Stingray and almost dying—but mostly for stealing the Stingray.

“Guilty by association,” Rio had said. Between Enrique, Lita, and Rio, Julian was on triple cleaning duty.

Julian let out a whistle at the pile of half-filled trash bags and an overflowing laundry basket. “I love what you’ve done with the place—really brings out the mold!”

“Grab a rag or grab the door,” Omar shot back, sneezing. “Actually—no, don’t touch anything.”

Julian found Luca hunched in the couch corner, fidgeting with his blankie. The frayed blue fabric looked like it might unravel completely, kind of like Luca himself.

He flopped down next to him. “Yo. What’s eating you, man?”

Luca flinched, fingers tightening on the fabric. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Julian snorted. “Yeah, and I’m Tony Hawk. Spill it!”

Luca’s shoulders slumped. “I gotta go to my parents’ tonight.”

The room went still. Flaca’s mouth twisted. Rocky stopped sweeping.

Julian’s chest clenched. He didn’t need details—he knew exactly what those visits meant. Luca’s parents were abusive pieces of shit.

“You don’t have to go,” Julian said quickly.