Page 39 of Never Say Die
“Your psychic is as paranoid as you are. I’mfine.” He set his hands on her shoulders, tugging her into a reluctant hug. “Shay’s fine, too, okay? I’m fine. We’re fine.”
“You’re not.” She pushed the rosary against his chest. “Take this, at least. Take it, wear it—don’t sigh at me, I’m serious. I have a candle for you, too. Come by the botanica before you leave. You need protection, Aiden. If you won’t listen to her, then listen to me, for once just?—”
“All right, okay, fine—fine!I’ll come get a brujo-bitch kit. Happy?”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I hear you. I get it.”
“Kelly wouldn’t call for nothing. And. . . And I really can’t deal with laid up you in another hospital bed or. . . orworse. I have the botanica to run, I have a conference to get ready for, I have Mama, I. . .”
Aiden pressed his lips to the top of her head, halting her rambling. “I’ve got this, Cami.”
“Don’t let him break you again,” she said, defeated, and stepped away, stringing the rosary around his neck. “I know you’re lying. I know you knowsomething, I feel it in my. . .” She pointed to her elbow, the place their abuela always tapped.Bad spirits,she’d say,can’t make a home in bent bones.“Just don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, yeah? Por favor?”
“Yeah, okay. Te quiero.”
“Love you, too,” she said.
Camila heaved a tired breath, opened the bedroom door, and ushered him out. Silvia hollered about dinner, calling everyone into the kitchen to fix their plates. The screen door trembled, and laughter filled the house again. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he bounced down the stairs.
KNIGHT’S BLOOD TEA SPILLAGE
Dylan Fisher: whoooaaa did you guys see this? didn’t westley mention something happening to one of their friends? cassie?
An article popped into the group chat with a bold headline:SUSPECTED COYOTE ATTACK LEAVES UNIDENTIFIABLE BODY MAULED TO DEATH ON LAS VEGAS STRIP
Georgia Williams: YEAH! That’s one of Hail the Haunted’s weird roadies, right? Should we send flowers or something? I didn’t talk to them (they’re kinda creepy RIP) but it’s still really sad
Shay Bennett: wow that’s wild. yeah, i’ll send flowers.
Aiden walked into the kitchen. Shay met his eyes, scooping shredded beef into pan-greased tortillas. His mouth squirmed, chin dimpling as he swallowed.
Aiden typed into the group chat and hit send.
Aiden Moore: probably a chupacabra
Then he opened Shay’s text bubble.
Aiden Moore: are you okay?
Shay took his plate into the dining room and left Aiden onread.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aiden rested his back against the window, seated on the table between the two booth-benches in the RV, picking at strings on his acoustic guitar. It was a classic starter Fender, covered in stickers from festivals, skate-shops, and comic conventions. He’d put it on his Christmas list eleven years ago, half his lifetime ago, and found it wrapped in a festive bow at midnight on Christmas Eve. Abuelita had paid for lessons. Camila had threatened to destroy his amplifier once he’d saved enough for his first electric guitar, and his mother had blamed music and peer pressure, linking his bound chest and short hair to guttural screamo and power-metal. They fought, as all families did. Cried at each other, howling and yipping like animals from different continents, trying desperately to understand each other, to warn each other, to withstand each other, until finally, on a normal, rainy Tuesday, Blanca called him mijo.
The memory lived in his elbows—how quietly and casually she’d claimed him. He remembered lying in her lap, her hand combing through his hair, droplets streaking the window,Camila singing in the kitchen, and the feeling, bright and new, sinking into his chest:Love is indomitable.
Shay sat on one side of the booth, hunched over a spiral-bound notebook, drumming a mechanical pencil on Aiden’s socked foot. “Anyone check iTunes today?”
“Glory is sitting at. . .” Dylan trailed off, scrolling through his phone. “Number sixteen on the Alt-Rock chart. Nottoobad.”
“Alt-Rock?” Aiden wrinkled his nose. “We’re, like, solidly Heavy Metal.”
“Some people call us Pop Punk,” Shay corrected. He tapped the pencil against the flat bill on Aiden’s snapback. “Can’t blame ‘em.”
Aiden rolled his eyes and kicked the notebook off the table.
