A sandal flies past my ear and straight toward El Cocodrilo.
“iVete de aquí, mocoso!” Abuelita shrieks.
El Cocodrilo snarls as the sandal lands at his feet. The gray scales on his skin shine in the moonlight, and his eyes glow green.
“Phase two,” I whisper to everyone. “We have to turn him human.”
As if reading my mind, Abuelito hands me my violin and winks. Setting the diary down, I rest my instrument under my chin and begin to play “Guantanamera.” The notes float around the yard. Abuelito and Migdalia clap their hands to the song, and soon their strong voices join my playing.
Pipo moves his fingers in the air, and a trumpet, marimba, and bongos join my violin. Papi gets up, grabs Mami’s hand, and pulls her toward him, dancing to the song as they ignore El Cocodrilo seething and grunting over the music. Ladislao joins them, wiggling his hips and waving his arms. Fautina and Abuelita tap their feet to the rhythm of the song as Andaluz takes it all in, smiling softly.
El Cocodrilo spits on the ground and doubles over. His eyes turn from green to black abysses. The skin on his left cheek and right arm glistens as scales fall and reveal tan skin like mine.
I finish “Guantanamera” and look at Pipo. He rolls his shoulders and waves his arms. The opening notes of “La Bayamesa,” the Cuban national anthem, swirl in the air. Abuelito clears his throat and begins to sing along. Soon, everyone has joined him.
El Cocodrilo claws at his face in frustration and crouches to the ground. He digs his hands into the dirt, his nails no longer green, but gray. He inches across the grass toward us, his chest heaving as spit flies from his mouth.
“Anything but that,” he snarls. “Anything but that song.”
Mami, Papi, and Andaluz form a wall in front of me as Keisha and Juan Carlos grip their weapons at the bottom of the patio stairs. Fautina stands next to me as my abuelitos and Pipo huddle beside us.
Migdalia waves her hand, and the effigy floats toward her. “My sweet, are you sure we can get close enough?” she asks Andaluz.
Andaluz shrugs. “This has already been a lot. We should get rid of him the same way you made me disappear,” she says to me.
I lower my violin as Pipo continues the song. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“My page in the diary got soaked, and I disappeared. Simple,” Andaluz says with a smirk.
I think for a moment. El Cocodrilo sneers at us, his tongue darting in and out of his mouth as his black eyes glare at the effigy.
“I have an idea,” I say. “Pipo, keep playing. Everybody sing along as much as you can. And Papi, I think it’s time for some s’mores.”
Papi looks at me, and then his eyes grow wide in realization. He gives me a thumbs-up and runs to the firepit, tossing in twigs and leaves.
The music swirling through the yard swells and El Cocodrilo pounds on the dirt with a clenched fist. Migdalia draws closer, and a crack fills the air as the wood on the patio begins to splinter. Liset shrieks as a board next to her splits apart. Ladislao lets out a forceful sneeze, securing the board back together with a thick layer of slime.
El Cocodrilo snarls and slithers closer to us. Keisha swings her fencing blade in his direction, and he gnashes his teeth at her. His skin is completely free of scales, and his eyes are now golden brown, just like Abuelita’s and mine.
“Stop—” he gasps, his chest heaving. His eyes snap to Fautina. “How dare you tell them about . . . about him. How dare you use that against me.”
He slashes at the ground, dirt pushing under his jagged nails. He spits as he inches toward Juan Carlos, baring his teeth and snarling.
I have an idea, and I set my violin down, snatching my diary off the table. I rip out the page where I wrote about Reinaldo, the words now completely obscured, shaped like fat worms that have been smashed between the pages, their guts smeared across the paper. Running over to Migdalia, I hold out the page.
“Can you sew this inside? I think it will make it easier to trap him. His story has power over him,” I tell her.
Migdalia winks and waves her hand. A small thread comes loose on the side of the effigy, and I tuck the page inside. Migdalia snaps her fingers and the seam closes again.
I cross the yard and stand in front of El Cocodrilo, my stomach rolling at being so close to him. Keisha, Juan Carlos, and Andaluz are behind me, and I can hear Juan Carlos’s shaky breathing.
“We’ve got you, Mari,” Keisha says.
“I’d love to see him try anything,” Andaluz says, smirking.
El Cocodrilo slams his hand on the ground, and thick black cockroaches squirm out from the dirt beneath his palm, their spiny legs stumbling over the blades of grass. I step forward and squash one with my shoe.
“You can’t make me feel ashamed anymore. It won’t work. You know why?” I say as I spot Papi lighting the twigs in the firepit with a match. “I know who I am and who my family is. And I’m proud of it.”
El Cocodrilo groans in pain as he writhes in the dirt, his black, stringy hair hanging in front of his face. His chest shudders as he sucks in a breath. “You can’t have it all. You have to pick. They’ll make you.” He spits. “And if you don’t choose correctly, you won’t belong anywhere. No one will accept you.”
I clench my fists. “Sure, there will always be ignorant people.”
Glancing next door at Mykenzye’s window, I spot her staring at me and the chaos in the backyard.
I shake my head. “What other people think about me is never going to take anything away from who I really am. I’m Maricela Yanet Feijoo. I don’t have to pick what side of me to show, because all of it makes me who I am. I’m proud of every single part.”
I walk toward the firepit, the flames dancing high, and hold the effigy over the heat.
As his eyes dart from the effigy to me, El Cocodrilo screams and reaches out a gangly arm, its skin sagging.
“I’m not ashamed of who I am,” I say. “And I’m not scared of you.”
I drop the effigy into the firepit as El Cocodrilo pounds the ground with his fists. Thick black smoke rises from the flames as the effigy, with the page inside, is consumed. The dark cloud floats toward El Cocodrilo as he sneers and scowls.
Keisha and Juan Carlos hold out their shaky weapons toward him as black tendrils from the smoke wrap around El Cocodrilo’s torso. They squeeze his body, dark veins popping from his neck and arms. He opens his mouth to scream, but the smoke cloud slithers down his throat and chokes him.
I stand in front of El Cocodrilo again, and Fautina appears beside me.
“Goodbye, Papi,” she says.
The black fog covers El Cocodrilo, and his body disappears in the smoke. A final scream pierces my ears, and I gasp as the mark on my arm burns.
I look at Keisha. She is holding her arm to her chest, her hand wrapped around her skin as she winces.
Slowly, the thick smoke fades and floats up to the sky, disappearing and taking the ashes of what was El Cocodrilo with it.
I tug the sleeve of my hoodie, revealing clear skin. The mark is gone.
A whoop and holler from Abuelito breaks the silence, and everyone shouts and claps.
Looking up at the window next door, I see Mykenzye still staring at me.
Squaring my shoulders and facing her, I shout, “Peak Cubanity!” and take a bow.