“I’m not playing Overworld,” said Mari, looking back firmly at Sandro’s disapproving glare. “I need to call someone, and it’s kind of urgent—”
“More urgent than what happened today?” asked Sandro. “You shouldn’t even have gone out tonight. Mom’s on some kind of red alert, practically barricading the windows, and Dad’s downstairs calling every other business owner in Mirador trying to figure out what’s going on, and meanwhile you’re off screwing around with your friends like nothing happened.”
Marisa’s mouth fell open, and she gestured around at the hallway. “I’m right here, at home, literally two feet away from you.”
“Are you calling a boy?” asked Pati. “Is it the boy you met at school because I looked him up on your school database like you taught me and he’s really cute and he has pretty good grades but there was another one even cuter and I can show you who it is hang on while I look him up.”
“Gabi didn’t even go to ballet today,” said Sandro. “Dad wouldn’t let her. When she found out you’d already left with your friends she almost blew a fuse—I thought she was going to break a window.”
Marisa raised her eyebrows. “Gabi got mad?”
Sandro nodded. “Gabi got mad.”
“Mier—” Marisa started to swear, caught herself, and looked down at Pati with a wide, fake smile. “—coles. I will do makeup with you on miércoles.”
“Today is Wednesday!” Pati protested. “Does that mean I have to wait a whole week?”
“Friday, then,” said Marisa, finally prying the girl’s arms apart and stepping out of the hug. “But only if you let me make this call, because it’s really important.”
“Fine,” said Pati sullenly, then brightened and ran back down the stairs, her eyes unfocusing slightly as she watched something on her djinni.
“Tell me what happened today,” said Sandro. With Pati gone the hall was suddenly quiet, and Marisa shook her head.
“Let me make this call first.”
“What call could possibly be so important that you—”
“I’m calling Chuy.”
Sandro fell silent.
Marisa leaned in close, keeping her voice low. “He sent me a message about an hour ago. That’s why I came home early.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it would keep him off her back. “Don’t tell Papi.”
Sandro hesitated a moment before answering. “Mari, Chuy is dangerous.”
“He’s our brother.”
“He’s dangerous,” Sandro insisted. “Whatever’s going on, he’s mixed up in it. Those guys who came in to the restaurant today were his friends: his friends pointed guns at our mother, and now you’re taking his side?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side,” said Marisa. “He contacted me, and that means he has something to say, okay? Maybe he can tell us what’s really going on, with La Sesenta and the Maldonados and . . . who knows what else. You want answers? Chuy might have them.”
Sandro sighed, a resigned, frustrated snarl. “Fine. But be careful.”
“I promise.”
“And come talk to me as soon as you’re done.”
“I will.” Marisa opened her door. “Thanks for warning me about Gabi.”
Sandro nodded, and Marisa closed her door and locked it behind her. The nulis had been busy: her piles of laundry had been cleaned, sorted, folded, and stacked neatly in her drawers and hung carefully in her closet. The dishes had been taken away, the floor vacuumed, and her desk straightened—which meant she wouldn’t be able to find anything, she realized with a sigh, and some of her smaller computer components might be missing altogether. She made a mental note to look into the nuli programming, to see what she could do to keep them away from her desk, then rolled her eyes and made an actual note in her djinni’s reminder list. She hadn’t used the list in ages, and it was already full of other reminders: old tasks she’d finished weeks ago, and some she’d forgotten completely. She grimaced, and promised to start using the reminder function better, then shook her head and closed the list. She could think about all of that later.
She opened Chuy’s message, blinked on his ID, and called him.
It took Chuy nearly thirteen seconds to answer; an eternity for someone with a djinni. His voice was rough but familiar. “Marisa.”
Not Mari anymore, Marisa thought silently. Have we really grown that far apart? Or is it just because I’m older now? She cleared her throat. “Hey, Chuy.”
“Thanks for calling,” he said. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened at Saint Johnny’s today.”
Marisa exhaled a soft sigh of relief. If that’s all this call was about, it was a load off her mind. She wanted to say It was nothing, don’t worry about it, except that it wasn’t nothing, and the whole family was worried, and she didn’t want to make light of it. She opened her mouth to talk, and realized she didn’t know what to say that didn’t either absolve him of blame or accuse him of being part of it. She grimaced, and skipped the small talk completely.