With strength beyond a young woman her size, she seized the back of his neck. Unable to stop himself, he opened his mouth, feeling the pit of his stomach being folded and sucked out. The secret sores festering at the bottom of his heart popped, releasing into the vapor of his breath and drifted into the girl until she reached the last, deepest sore. He focused all his hate and fear on stopping what was happening, shoving Fernanda with enough force to catapult her backwards onto her bed. Her skirt lifted to show her bare sex, a dark vertical slit like her eyes that wanted to devour him.
He could not force himself to look away until she spoke. “You can eat my sin if you like. I see what’s in your heart.” Before her fingertips managed to reach between her legs, he ran.
Never had temptation presented itself in such a vulgar, alluring way. Only once had he defiled his mind with pornography, when he was much younger. He still had dreams about it, and now this bruja demon had tarnished his mind in the worst way. Her wickedness would stick to him. What if this was only the beginning and this demon decided to take more innocent lives? Something drastic had to be done.
We met at the end of Fernanda’s road at 10 p.m. Ruben was waiting in his black Chevy truck, Pauline at his side. We climbed into the back seat. It smelled like shoe shine and his cologne.
“Hey, Lourdes.”
“Hi, Ruben. Thanks for the ride so late. Hope you didn’t have plans tonight.”
“Well, Pauline said you were going out and no way was she going to wait for a ride with all the weird shit happening. It’s dangerous. And no plans.” He glanced at us in the rearview mirror.
“My big brother. The Mexican Knight Rider in his truck that I will get when he moves.” Pauline slapped her hands together and grinned, scanning the car.
“You doing okay, Fernanda? You look nice.”
Fernanda smiled and nodded to Pauline.
“You ladies call about half an hour before you want to go. I don’t want you waiting on any corners. Deal?”
Pauline and I mumbled, “Yeah.”
The inhabitant remained quiet the entire journey; however, Fernanda’s pupils vibrated, the color changing as we sat in the back of the truck. Ruben kept glancing back at Fernanda and me in the mirror, but I don’t think he noticed with the passing shadows of streetlights and underpasses, and the dark makeup ringing her eyes.
The club was packed as usual. Red and blue strobe lights made the dance floor look like hell’s waiting room. Bass beat against our chests, war drums to signal a good time ahead. I wore my good top, the velour one the color of ox blood with spaghetti straps, paired with jeans. Lipstick the same shade as my top, because the darker the better. It made me look badass. Fernanda’s hair fell to the center of her back in a French braid. She wore a cropped white halter top without a bra. Mrs. Garcia would never allow her to wear that out with the way it clung to her chest. Baggy jeans cinched at the waist like mine. Her lips were still lined and slathered in black, as were her eyes, except it was no longer messy.
The original bruja Craft crew met by a speaker. Perla sat on one of the speakers wiggling to Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam with drink in hand, her neck craning over the crowd in anticipation of our arrival. I’d texted them that there would be a reunion here tonight because I didn’t want to babysit alone, plus maybe this is what we all needed, to be together and unafraid. Our combined friendship could be powerful medicine for our friend.
“What are you sad bitches up to?”
Perla hopped off the speaker to give Fernanda a hug.
“We fucking missed you! I’m sorry we haven’t been around. We’ve been scared and your mom didn’t want anyone around. Lourdes said she had a handle on things.” Fernanda shrugged her shoulders and took the drink from Perla, chugging it down like it was Kool-Aid.
“¡Orale!” Ana shouted. Everyone was happy to have their homegirl back.
Everything seemed calm at the club, Fernanda’s eyes back to normal. In that moment, it felt okay to relax and get a drink from the bar as we were with our friends. If there was a night to take off scrimping and saving, it was tonight. Bars are always shitty waiting places with someone trying to cut in or spilling alcohol on your clothes or hair, and it always takes longer than you think. Whenever I glanced back, dancing bodies prevented me from seeing our group. This made me nervous but not nervous enough to leave the line. When I returned to the speaker the girls were talking among themselves, obviously tipsy, but Fernanda was gone.
I’d fucked up again. I’d be damned if she lost her virginity or got assaulted by some guy in a grimy bathroom stall.
“Where is Fernanda? Everyone needs to find Fernanda. I’ll check the bathrooms, you three spread out, find her, now!”
Ana looked around. “She was just here. Quiet, but here. How did she get away without us noticing?”
“Is she not okay?” Perla had that same look of fear as the first night. She could sense the panic in my voice. I had to cool it.
“She is getting better. Just want to be sure. Don’t worry or panic. It will make things worse.”
Perla obeyed, leaving her drink on the speaker to make her way through the crowd. It was difficult to see with so little light. Multicolored lasers slashed erratically at the dark, making faces unrecognizable; bass and electronic beats came from all directions, disorienting me. The music made me feel dizzy. Move, I told myself. Bathrooms. I shoved through bodies, trying to appear drunk. I felt sorry for being rude, but I didn’t need beef from anyone. Everyone makes way
