Page 64 of Dead Set on You
“A superpower would belistening.”
“Says the kettle?”
I narrow my eyes in fury. “I listen. To people who arereasonable and sane.”
“You know you look like a crazy person talking to yourself like that?” Lupe eyes her cousin the way you’d watch someone streaking through church.
“Thank you!” I mutter. “Heiscrazy.”
Rafael draws in a deep, impatient breath. “I’m not talking to myself. I’m talking to her.” He gestures toward me. Lupe doesn’t look convinced. He mumbles, scanning the room, and then his gaze snags on the paper bag from his grandmother’s house. His eyes light up. “Okay! If you don’t believe me, then let’s try something. He points to the bag. “Open the bag, take the item on top, and show it to Evie. I’ll turn around. She’ll tell me what it is. I tell you. Easy proof.”
“No,” Lupe and I answer in unison.
“Por favor,” he tacks on, his eyes pleading. I haven’t once—not since that one time—fallen for this Vela trick. “For me.”
I snort.As if.
While I’m stalwart in my decision, Lupe hesitates, her face creasing with indecision. She pushes out a big breath before she says, “All right, primo. I’m doing this because I love you.” She twirls her pointer finger. “Turn around before I change my mind.”
Shoulders relaxing, Rafael catches my gaze as he pivots his body toward me. The plea remains. I cross my arms over my chest to communicate that I willnot, for any reason whatsoever, do this.
It’s bad enough Rafael has witnessed some of my deepest, most personal parts—my birthmark, my severe amaxophobia, my poorly timed syncope. He’s seen too much already. She doesn’t need to be a part of it too.
Muttering to herself, Lupe takes the bag and opens it. “Hmmm.” She pulls out a small box wrapped in pink construction paper. “How do I know you don’t already know what’s in here?”
Rafael sighs. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know how Elena is with her secret drawings.”
Nodding her head in agreement, Lupe unwraps the box.
“I’m not doing this,” I assure him, needing to get far, far away from Rafael Vela.
And how far is that?
I’m only going to end up where I started, because whatever—or whoever—made the executive decisions thought it would be fun to have me wake up on Rafael’s sofa each morning.Wherever you are, Great-Aunt Julia, it wouldn’t kill you to help me out a little.
“Evie,” he says, his eyes locking onto mine.
“Rafael.” I make sure my tone communicates I’m not allowing another Vela in on my misery.
His jaw clenches in frustration, but I don’t waver.
Across from us, Lupe unwraps the box. Removes the lid. And pulls out a pink sheet of construction paper folded in four.
“Please.” Rafael’s soft tone kicks me in the chest—or whatever is swirling around inside there, undoing years of conditioning against him. Because somehow—impossibly—I find myselflistening. Considering his request. And I hate it. “Would it be so bad to have her on our side?”
I glare at him, masking the chaos bubbling up inside. She’s a Vela, and I don’t need her. She can’t even see me.
But … if I’m being rational and reasonable, he’s right. Having someone else help might speed things along; maybe she’ll think of things we haven’t. Also, she doesn’t make me feel like I’m glitching in the same way Rafael does.
It could work—as much as I hate to admit it.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for potential smugness. “Fine. I’ll bite, but this is it—the last Vela that comes into the mix.”
He doesn’t smirk or give me reason to think I’ve made a mistake. “She’s not a Ve—” he starts.
“Rafael.” I narrow my eyes in warning before turning my attention to the paper in Lupe’s hands. As I squint the drawing into focus, my breath catches. “It’s daisies. A field of them. And a … dog?” I frown, trying to make sense of the shapes.
Rafael repeats my words.
