EIGHT

Thomas turned his bike up the narrow driveway to Enrique’s house a little before nine the next morning. The buzz of activity inside was already at a level that could be heard halfway down the street. He smiled. The constant noise was jarring when he was first getting to know the Rodriguez family but now felt almost as normal as the quiet of his own house. He leaned his bike against the pillar on the front porch and knocked on the door.

“Hey, white boy!” Juan pulled Thomas into a half hug. Enrique’s middle brother was as unique in appearance as the rest of the Rodriguez family—he had almond-colored skin, light brown eyes with yellow-green rings around the edges, and wavy black hair. The mix came courtesy of Spanish, Mayan, and European ancestors. “You come over to give me a game, ese? The table’s set, and this time I ain’t takin’ it easy on you.”

Juan was referring to the chess set on their coffee table, and the fact that Thomas had crushed him in their last meeting. They’d been battling back and forth for almost as long as he and Enrique had been fighting their doodle wars. Of Enrique’s five siblings, Juan was Thomas’s favorite. He smiled easily, joked often, and always made sure Thomas felt like part of the family. He’d be transferring from the local junior college to Stanford in a few months. Thomas was going to miss having him around.

“Hey, Juan. Not today. I was hoping to grab Enrique and head downtown. Is he up?”

“Yeah, he’s up, but remember who said no to the game. I’m going to count that as a win for me.”

“No way,” said Thomas. “You’ve got to earn victory.”

“Then don’t go hiding from me, Tee-Dub. I’m ready, anytime, anywhere.” Juan had at least a dozen nicknames for Thomas. Tee-Dub. Tommy Boy. TomTom. White Boy. Guero. The list was constantly shifting and expanding. “Come on in. You remember Marcus and Carlo?”

“Hi, guys. Hey, Maria.” Thomas waved at two of Enrique’s cousins who were sitting at the dining room table with Enrique’s sister. Maria was the second youngest in the family, just a couple of years older than Enrique.

“Sup, Thomas.” The boys nodded and lifted their hands.

“Hey, Thomas,” said Maria.

“Have you met our Uncle Andre?” asked Juan.

A tall man in a flowing white shirt walked out of the kitchen with a plate in his hand. His skin was Caribbean brown, his shoulders wide and solid.

“I don’t think so,” said Thomas. “Not yet.”

“For reals?” said Juan. “That’s crazy. Thomas, this is Uncle Andre. He’s cousin Lettie’s dad. Uncle Andre, this is Thomas, my other little brother.”

“It’s great to meet you, Thomas.” Uncle Andre’s large hand swallowed Thomas’s in a firm but gentle grip. His smile widened, brightening the whole room. Thomas smiled back.

“It’s great to meet you, too, Mr—?” Thomas had met Lettie at least a few times, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her last name. If he had, it had been lost in the noise and distraction of a dozen other conversations. Rodriguez family events were enormous affairs, full of aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. Keeping track was no easy task.

“Bishop. But you can call me Andre. Or Uncle Andre. Are you a friend of Enrique’s?”

Thomas nodded. He and Enrique had been friends since the first day of first grade, when Enrique pummeled a bully for trying to steal Thomas’s lunch. They’d been inseparable ever since. “He’s my best friend.”

“Very nice.” Uncle Andre patted Thomas on the back with one hand and held up his plate with the other. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got eggs and chorizo calling my name.”

“Of course,” said Thomas. “It was nice to meet you, Uncle Andre.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Thomas.”

“Is that my little guerito?” Mrs. Rodriguez came rumbling out of the kitchen, flour on her cheek and a smile on her face. She pulled Thomas into a hug with her well-muscled arms. For a relatively small woman, she carried an enormous amount of power. “Good morning, Thomas.”

Thomas hugged her back. “Good morning, Mrs. Rodriguez. How are you?”

“Busy. Very, very busy. We’ve got a bunch of family coming into town later, so I’m making pozole and tamales. You’ll come join us for dinner, okay?” She swatted Juan lightly on the back of his head. “Juan, where are your manners? Go get Enrique. We don’t just leave our guest standing around.”

“Not cool, Ma.” Juan made a face and rubbed the back of his head. “Thomas isn’t a guest. He’s family.”

“Get your brother, mijo.” Mrs. Rodriquez squeezed Thomas’s shoulder and bustled back toward the kitchen. “Thomas, come find me if you need anything.”

“Enrique!” Juan’s voice rose above the din, bringing a momentary quiet to the house. “ ’Rique! Get off your lazy butt and come downstairs. Thomas is here!”

“Language, Juanito!” Mrs. Rodriguez yelled from the kitchen. “Don’t make me come back out there!”

Juan winked at Thomas and disappeared down a hallway. “See you later, Tee-dub.”

Enrique came bounding down the stairs, two at a time.

His dad was out of the picture, too, like Thomas’s, only still alive. According to Julio, Enrique’s oldest brother, Gustavo Rodriguez had volunteered to be in some kind of research experiment the year before Enrique was born. Things were different after he came home. Constant arguing, weird stuff happening around the house, some kind of trouble with the law. He finally took off when Enrique was three and hadn’t been back in half a decade.

“Hey, Thomas. What’s happening?”

“Not much,” said Thomas, sliding sideways to dodge Enrique’s jab. “Want to go downtown?”

“What’s downtown?”

“Only the coolest bookstore ever,” said Thomas. If Huxley and Adelia met Enrique, maybe they’d decide it was okay to bring him in on the secret. “Plus, I thought maybe we could hit up Collectors’ Universe. You know, grab some comics and a slushy or something.”

“Collectors’ would be cool but another bookstore? Seriously?” Enrique had been along for several of Thomas’s attempts to find magic books, and the experiences hadn’t been pretty. “Anyway, Jameel and Ming are heading down to San Clemente. We should cruise down and join them. It’s going to be hot later. Prime beach weather.”

As much as he wanted to take Enrique to the bookstore, it was hard to argue with volleyball and a dip in the Pacific. The Surfliner to the station at Pico took about forty-five minutes. It was a trek, but on a hot Saturday, the beach sounded pretty good. He looked at the clock. Unless the schedule had changed, the next train left in about an hour.

“All right. I’ll head home and grab my stuff. I’ll call if my mom throws up a block, otherwise, I’ll meet you at the station in time for the 10:35.”

“Cool. Grab some snacks from your place. Other than what my mom is cooking, there’s nothing here but carrots and celery and hummus and stuff like that,” said Enrique. “Oh, and grab a couple Gatorades if you’ve got any. We’re out. I’ll bring water and sandwiches.”

“Deal,” said Thomas. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

• • •

“Do you have your phone with you? And sunscreen?” Thomas’s mom asked as he headed toward the door.

“In my bag.” Thomas patted the front pocket to make double sure. Yup. All set. “Love you. See you later.”

“Love you, too. Have fun and be careful. Call if you need me to come pick you up.”

“I will.” Thomas hoisted his beach bag onto his shoulders and climbed onto his bike. Purple-blue jacaranda blossoms lined the street, forming an almost perfect tunnel right in front of their house. Thomas loved the trees, especially this time of year, but they made for a lot of extra work. He’d just swept a few days ago and already the blossoms were piled three-deep on the sidewalk.

A gentle breeze swooshed through the trees as Thomas kicked the bike forward. A shower of bright petals fluttered through the air, falling like confetti to the ground. One landed on his nose, sticking for just a moment before sliding off.

The train station was a relatively short ride from home. They’d lived in the house on Magnolia Court since his mom took a faculty position at Chapman University. He was six at the time and had only a few scattered memories of life before Orange County. Of those, one was so vivid it might as well have happened yesterday. Magic is real, Thomas. No matter what happens, always remember that.

The words thundered in Thomas’s head as he hung a left on Citrus. Three blocks later, he skidded to a stop in front of the bike rack where Enrique was waiting with printed tickets in hand. The clock at the top of the station tower showed 10:30. The train had already arrived, and passengers were lining up to climb on board.

“What took you so long? The train leaves in like five minutes.”

“My bad. It took a couple minutes to convince my mom, and then I got stuck trying to find decent snacks. We’re practically tapped out at my place, too.” Thomas wiped sweat from his forehead and leaned over to lock up his bike and helmet. “Thanks for picking up my ticket. I owe you.”

“No worries. You can get me on the ride back.”

Enrique fired a surprise jab as Thomas stood up. On instinct, Thomas shifted his weight and rotated his body. Enrique’s fist slid past, barely grazing Thomas’s shirt. Thomas turned his hips and let his shoulder thud into the outside part of Enrique’s arm. Enrique pinwheeled toward the ticket booth, catching himself on a bright red vending machine.

“Huh,” grunted Enrique. “Not bad. Maybe that Kung Fu stuff isn’t a total waste of time after all.”

Thomas grinned. It was the best he’d ever done at deflecting a surprise attack, and it had happened on pure instinct. His training with Master Sifu was finally starting to pay off. Not bad indeed. “Come on, let’s go.”

Enrique stuck out his tongue and started toward the train. Thomas turned and felt a sudden shiver run up his spine. The man in the olive overcoat was on the other side of the platform, staring at him through the gap between passenger cars. The man’s eyes were hidden by distance and a tangle of dark hair, but Thomas felt them anyway, boring into him like a drill.

“Hey, are you coming or what?” Enrique’s voice sounded distant, though he was only a few feet away.

A family bustled past, their beach bags and boogie boards briefly cutting Thomas’s line of sight. When the family cleared, the man was gone, the space between cars empty. Thomas turned to Enrique, an unsettled feeling in his gut. “Yeah. On my way.”