Tuesday, October 29, 2020
Leo Araya's POV
I had oatmeal cooling on the counter and a mug of tea warming my hands when I realized something was off. The house was quiet, too quiet for a school morning. Carlos was humming to himself upstairs, so he was home. But Julie had stayed over at Flynn's after the dance and was therefore nowhere to be seen.
Even when I know someone isn't supposed to be here, I still notice the missing weight of their presence. The rhythms of how people move through space, that's where I listen most. Julie always had a particular rhythm in the mornings: quick steps, half-sung mumbling about coffee or homework, fingers tapping on the fridge handle before she even opened it. Without that, the kitchen just felt... blank.
At school, I wore my usual layered look; loose brown pants with paint smudges near the knees, a soft sage green Henley under a faded denim overshirt, and my woven bracelet stack. Comfortable and quiet. The kind of clothes that let me disappear a little, or at least move without friction.
Between periods, I bumped into Flynn near the vending machines. She had on a fuzzy red checkered sweater over distressed overalls, red and green socks, and the infamous "WHAT" earrings. She handed me a bag of chips and sighed like she'd aged twenty years overnight. Her whole vibe was bold, but the tension in her arms said she'd been holding her breath since first period.
"She missed the first three classes, so far," she muttered, ripping open her own snack. "Told me last night that she wouldn't show her face again after the dance."
I blinked. Her words mattered, but it was her posture I noticed most; tense in the shoulders, eyes flicking like she was still sorting through worry. Her voice was loud, sure, but her body whispered something different. Guilt? Defensiveness? Maybe just fear that Julie was slipping again.
Flynn nodded. "The holograms didn't work. Whole plan flopped. Julie was devastated."
I nodded and let it sit. I didn't ask for more. Just watched her twist the snack bag a little too hard and wondered — worried — if this would set Julie back. She'd been healing. Writing. Laughing. Her energy had started returning to the room when she entered it. Now... this.
By lunchtime, the gossip around school was about a new artist night at Cats and Beats Café. Something about a three-song minimum and limited spots. I didn't catch the full details, but Carrie's name came up more than once. Her group was always involved in these kinds of events.
Dirty Candy had signed up.
Dylan's going, since he was offered tech support. Dean and his husband Castiel own the place. That got some raised eyebrows, but then a couple of students started gushing about the coffee, the cinnamon rolls, the vibe. Everyone loved it.
I found myself smiling, just a little. Dean and Castiel had worked really hard on the café. Knowing that people saw it, and loved it... made me happy in a way I didn't expect.
Flynn and Julie joined me for lunch, Julie quieter than usual but present. Her movements were a bit slow, like every action was something she had to push through. Flynn talked enough for the three of us — which, honestly, helped. She told me Julie had just been paired with Nick for dance class.
"Apparently, the lacrosse coach thinks dancing will improve their game," Flynn said between bites. "Teamwork and rhythm and whatever. But come on. Nick? Really?"
Julie just gave a tired shrug, poking at her food.
She hadn't said much all day, but I was watching. I noticed the faint fidget in her left hand, the one she sometimes uses to ground herself. I saw the way her foot bounced under the table and the way she didn't look up when people passed our table. Julie's silence wasn't quiet, it was loud in a different way.
I didn't say much. But I studied the curve of her mouth, the way her shoulders sagged, the way her hand hovered over her fork like she wasn't sure she wanted to lift it. Body language tells me more than any word could. I wondered how it felt to be paired with your old crush for something as vulnerable as a dance. Wondered if this would be another thing she had to push through.
Flynn caught me watching and nudged my leg under the table. "She'll be okay," she mouthed more than said, her expression confident but gentle.
I nodded once and turned back to my tray, though I hadn't touched anything. I didn't need food. I needed the world to feel just a little lighter again. Even just a little.
After school, I headed back to the garage. Julie wasn't there yet. The art supplies I usually found scattered on the shared table sat untouched. My sketchbook still open to last night's unfinished piece.
Something about the stillness made me pause.
I stepped inside and on my way to drop my bag by the couch, when I heard,
"We're sorry ♪" "So sorry ♪" "We're super-duper, crazy, stupid ♪"
A pause.
"Oh... It's Leo, not Julie."
It was Reggie's voice that broke the tune. I blinked, eyebrows raised, and tilted my head slightly, as if that would help me hear better. It didn't. But I could almost feel their awkward silence settle in the air.
I gave a slow blink, then reached up and took out my implant.
The world muted.
I lay down on the couch with a huff, tugged a throw blanket over my chest, and let my eyes fall shut.
Before everything went black, I caught a glimpse of Julie storming out, her jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, lips pressed tight but trembling like she wanted to scream. Her eyes were bright, angry, and glassy. That kind of hurt doesn't come from one mistake. That was disappointment.
She didn't look back.
I just let myself drift, barely aware of anything but the fading echo of a song never meant for me.
Evening painted the walls with golden light when I settled at the kitchen table, my calculus book open but mostly ignored. I could see Carlos crouched near the couch, flashlight in one hand, his other scrolling through a night vision app on his tablet. He mouthed something about "orbs," his expression full of earnest mischief.
Julie came in from outside, her steps heavy, expression unreadable at first. Then I caught the subtle twitch in her brow and the slow way her arms crossed, tight and defensive. I couldn't hear her, but I read her lips well enough to catch, "What are you doing?"
Carlos started gesturing wildly, pointing to his tablet. From his lips, I picked up something like "rock music site" and "I'm all about rap!" Julie's gaze flicked toward the garage, her smile curling up unexpectedly as she said, "Reggie." It was the small, soft kind of smile she hadn't made in a while.
Julie crossed into the living room to find Ray already standing near the couch, arms folded, gaze fixed and waiting. She sat on the edge of the coffee table, her own arms crossed tightly, her expression guarded but already bracing.
From my spot in the kitchen, I could see them both. Ray's mouth moved slowly, a measured tone. Probably something like, "Care to tell me why you missed the first three classes today?"
Julie turned, mouth shaping the words quickly. "I overslept at Flynn's. Nothing important happened anyway. Won't happen again. Promise."
But then mom came through the front door in a rush. Her hair was still wind-blown, her earrings swinging. Her lips pulled into a tight line before she even spoke. She set down her bag and jumped straight in.
"I came as fast as I could… sobrina, I will not let you fall into the gutter of life."
Julie turned away slightly, muttering, probably something like "I'm fine." But mom was already shaking her head.
"You missed a calculus test," she mouthed.
Ray's eyes narrowed. He glanced at Julie, clearly not pleased. Her face crumpled just slightly, and I saw her whisper back, "Dad, I'm sorry."
Mom leaned in, clearly pressing the issue. Ray gave in with a sigh.
"No more going out on school nights," he said, lips slow and deliberate.
Julie protested. I didn't catch all the words, but Mom cleared her throat in that signature way. Ray blinked, then added, "And go to your room. And study. Calculus."
Julie huffed, cheeks puffing out slightly, eyes rolling. Then she turned and stomped up the stairs.
Mom watched her go, then turned to Ray.
"You know I'm only here to help, right?"
Ray nodded, expression softening. He muttered something back — probably "I know," and something about "appreciating it."
She smiled faintly and added one more thing before disappearing into the living room: "You need me to look after Carlos, don't you?" Then a pause, and a fond, "Mijo." She moved toward where Carlos and I were sitting.
I reached for my implant case and clicked it open, slipping the device into place behind my ear. The hum of sound returned; soft clinks from the kitchen, Carlos muttering to himself, the gentle shuffle of Mom's shoes.
"Thanks for coming, Mamí," I said quietly. "Eileen and Sam will be here any minute to drive me to Dean and Castiel's café."
She patted my cheek gently. "Have a good time. And don't give Claire a hard time if she's there. She already gets enough teasing from her dad and her aunt."
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head. "No promises."
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down.
Eileen: We're outside. Ready?
At the door, Castiel greeted us with his usual energy, grinned, and waved us in. He wore a black T-shirt under a loose beige button-down with rolled sleeves, his apron full of pens and post-it notes.
"You're early. Claire's already claimed a table by the corner stage light—it's her new favorite spot," he said, leading us through the café.
Sam glanced around and leaned toward Castiel as we walked. "Where's Jack tonight?"
"Jody's babysitting," he replied with a small grin. "He's two. She's letting him stir the batter while she does the rest. Apparently, he insisted on wearing his toy badge."
Sam chuckled. "Poor kid. Though honestly, I can picture him wearing that badge in the bath too."
Castiel then turned to me, catching my eye. "And you can call me Cass, by the way. Everyone does."
I nodded. "Cass. Got it."
Sam leaned in with a grin. "Though sometimes Dean calls him 'Commander Coffee' when he's in one of his moods."
Cass rolled his eyes. "Because apparently being good at managing a drink station now counts as a military rank."
I snorted softly, and Eileen smiled. The air around the café felt lighter than it had all week, like I'd stepped into a bubble where everything was allowed to be just a little bit ridiculous and warm.
"By the way, where's Dylan?"
The space was warm and glowing under fairy lights, with mismatched cushions on the benches and chalkboard menus above the bar. "Dean and Dylan are finishing setup and chatting with some of the performers. Sam ,will you help me seat folks and grab orders?" he added.
Sam nodded and followed Cass to the counter, already juggling glasses.
Claire waved from her table, a booth draped in a knit throw and decorated with little stickers she'd clearly added herself. She had her usual combat boots propped on the lower bar of the table and was wearing a black hoodie with a glittery purple skirt and tights covered in cartoon bats.
I'd changed into something simple but nice: brown corduroys and a pale ochre shirt under a soft green jacket. No paint stains this time. Eileen sat next to Claire, comfortably dressed in a navy cardigan and wide-leg black jeans.
Carrie and Dirty Candy came on around the middle of the night, all glitter and attitude. They were dressed in coordinated neon pink, purple, blue, yellow, orange, and shimmering silvers that catch every light in the café. Their movements are sharp and practiced, every step on beat, every hair flip intentional.
Then, Julie walked in.
I blinked. She was grounded. Ray wouldn't have let her, well mom wouldn't have let Ray let her.
I pulled out my phone and shot him a quick text.
Mejor tío:Did you let Julie come tonight?
He didn't answer right away.
The music exploded with the confidence of a pop anthem:
"Whenever I walk in the room All the focus on me♪ The way I talk, the way I move♪ They all want on my team..♪."
It was unapologetically bold, dripping in glam. Carrie's voice led the verses with sharp precision while the others backed her with high-energy choreography. The lyrics brag about stealing looks, being the center of attention, and never following, pure, sparkly self-adoration.
Claire practically squealed beside me, absolutely living for it. Eileen just gave me a knowing look, a single raised eyebrow that said, teenagers. I smirked. We both clapped when the song ended, the applause loud and echoing off the café's brick walls.
A few minutes later, Dean introduced the next act. "Give it up for Julie and the Fat Ones!"
I turned in my seat, eyes wide. Eileen leaned in, signing, "Isn't that your cousin?" I nodded, slowly
The music swelling around us.
Julie sat between two keyboards set up in a V, her dress a deep blue that shimmered under the lights. Her hair was swept up now, elegant and deliberate. She started soft
"Hearts on fire We're no liars, so we say what we wanna say...♪ "
Claire leaned in too, eyes wide. "She's really good."
I nodded again, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the stage. Julie wasn't just performing, she was flying. The boys appeared at the chorus, the beat kicking in as the energy swelled.
"I've got a spark in me Hands up if you can see..♪."
Reggie and Alex harmonized behind her, and the effect was electric. It was joy and fire and freedom in every note.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, I looked toward the stage, and Reggie was already looking at me.
He winked, friendly, but with just enough of a pause to make my stomach flutter.
Claire leaned closer, nudging my arm with her elbow. "He totally winked at you," she whispered, her eyes wide with amusement.
I gave her a look — half warning, half denial — but I can feel the flush already spreading across my cheeks.
She grinned like she'd caught something rare. "Relax. I'm not judging. Besides," she add, lowering her voice, "if I have to deal with Dean and Aunt Eileen teasing me about Carrie one more time, it's only fair you get a little too."
I felt my ears go hot, my heart louder than the music.
The song ended. I signed goodbye to Eileen and Claire.
As I stepped away from the crowd, I saw Ray appear at the front entrance. He scanned the café with a tight expression, not quite angry, but close. Julie met him at the door, her shoulders already squared, lips pulled thin. They didn't argue, not really. Just a quiet storm in motion.
Ray turned his head and spotted me. He signed across the space, "Want to ride with us?"
I shook my head, smiling politely. "Sam and Eileen are taking me in a bit," I signed back. "I just have to say goodbye first."
He nodded and ushered Julie gently toward the car.
I turned back inside to find Dylan near the tech setup, adjusting cables with one hand and texting with the other. I tapped his shoulder, signed, "Good job tonight," and he grinned back, tapping the beat on his chest in thanks.
He then mimed a dramatic gasp and clutched his chest. "I nearly had a heart attack when they puffed in mid-song," he signed. "Thought the sound would glitch or fade. But nope. I could feel them just fine." He shrugged, then added with a smirk, "Still — next time your cousin's band is gonna magic-appear, they should warn the tech crew."
I laughed silently.
Dylan's eyes narrowed a little, playful. "Also… the bassist? Really? That wink? Come on."
I gave him a flat look. "We've never officially met," I signed. "He's just in Julie's band."
Dylan raised an eyebrow, not buying it.
I sighed. "Okay… I think he's cute."
Dylan beamed. "Knew it. Zay said you were sketching the bassist from Julie's band at the center. Now I know who that was."
He gave me a playful shove on the arm, and I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. The energy of the café still buzzed under my skin.
In the car, Sam drove with one hand on the wheel, humming soundlessly. Eileen sat beside him, occasionally turning back to check on me. I gave her a tired smile and leaned against the window. Before we'd even turned the corner, I popped open my case and took my implant out.
Silence folded around me like a familiar blanket.
Eileen caught my movement in the mirror and gave a small nod, respectful and understanding. No pressure to talk.
The ride passed in that soft kind of quiet only the deaf can fully appreciate. Streetlights blinked by, casting patterns across the glass.
When we pulled up in front of the house, I saw Julie and Ray already there. She stood on the path, arms crossed. Ray had one hand on her shoulder, the other gesturing slowly, calmly, not scolding. Julie's face was tight but open, nodding. She wasn't shutting him out. She was listening.
Sam caught my eye and signed from the driver's seat: "See you soon."
I nodded, offering a two-finger salute.
Inside, Mom stood at the counter with a towel slung over one shoulder. She looked up and smiled. Her greeting came in fingerspelling: "Hi, Mijo."
I signed back, "Hi. Everything okay?"
She pointed toward the hallway with her chin and signed, "Carlos still hunting ghosts." Her mouth twisted into a fond smile, and she added, "He's sure the blinds moved." I smiled and dropped my bag. "They might've," I signed back.
Sure enough, Carlos was crouched in the hall, iPad held up with night‑vision mode glowing green. He had a flashlight tucked into the collar of his hoodie and looked like a miniature detective. Then the hallway light flickered. Then the blinds actually moved. And then a floating sheet drifted slowly across the hall like something out of a cartoon. Carlos froze.
So did I. Even without my implant, I could feel that warm, buzzing hum of energy. I watched his face twist in delighted horror, then shifted to catch the edge of movement. A whisper of presence. Proud. Playful. Nervous. I walked over and tapped Carlos lightly on the shoulder and signed, "Toilet paper. Remember to change the roll." He groaned and threw his hands up as he replied in sign language, "You always say that!"
I leaned closer, lowering my hands into sign. "Maybe it's El Duende, they say he lives in children's bedroom walls, clipping toenails in the night when kids don't listen. Mostly, he's a warning spirit: misbehave, and he'll sneak in for revenge." I made a whisking gesture around my head. "Hide your thumbs in your palms, and he thinks you're one of his own." Carlos's eyes went wide. He quickly balled his hands into fists, hiding his thumbs. "You're… kidding?"
"Maybe," I shrugged. "Or it could be a swirl of every child's footsteps, laughter, and leftover stories, compacted over the years into something that wants to play." I squeezed his shoulder. "If you really want the facts, ask Ray. He kept the old house history folder for the real‑estate agent, should have notes on every creaky hinge and mysterious flicker."
Carlos let out a whoop and scrambled to his feet. "I'm on it!" snatching up his iPad and flashlight, practically tumbling down the hall. He flipped the iPad around so I could see the glow of its screen as he raced toward Ray's office, ready to recruit him as an official ghost‑hunting partner.
I grinned and turned toward the garage, peeling off my jacket as I walked.
The sketch I made that night was simple; a floating sheet, a flickering light bulb, and a smudge of a grin. I pulled the blanket up over my head and let the silence carry me to sleep.
For once, I didn't dream at all.