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The Coat of Stars

Holly Black

Rafael Santiago hated going ho fuss and a special dinner and hiarettes he had smoked for almost sixteen years now He hated that they always had the radio blaring salsa and the s open and that his cousins would co him out to bars He hated that his mother would tell him how Father Joe had asked after him at Mass He especially hated the familiarity of it, the memories that each visit stirred up

For nearly an hour that arded the wigs and hats and ned--each itee, broken les, or curved up into coiled, leather horns He had settled on wearing a white tank-top tucked into bland gray Dockers but when he stood next to all his treasures, he felt unfinished Clipping on black suspenders, he looked at hiain That was better, almost a compromise A fedora, a cane, and a swirl of eyeliner would have finished off the look, but he left it alone

"What do you think?" he asked the mirror, but it did not answer He turned to the unpainted plaster face casts resting on a nearby shelf; their hollow eyes told hi either

Rafe tucked his little phone into his front left pocket with his wallet and keys He would call his father froaze rested on one of the sketches of costumes he’d done for a post beside it This sketch was of a faceless woown appliqued with leaves and berries He reirl up while others pulled on the red ribbons he had had hidden in her sleeves Yards and yards of red ribbon could coe had been swathed in red The dancers had been covered in red The whole world had becoash of ribbon

The train ride was dull He felt guilty that the green landscapes that blurred outside thedid not stir him He only loved leaves if they were crafted from velvet

Rafael’s father waited at the station in the same old blue truck he’d had since before Rafe had left Jersey for good Each trip his father would ask him careful questions about his job, the city, Rafe’s apartment Certain unsaid assumptions wereinto trouble or, lately, his sister Mary’s probleer seat, feeling the heat of the sun wash away the last of the goose buotten how cold the air conditioning was on the train His father’s skin, sun-darkened to deep -tied box of crystallized ginger pastries sat at his feet He always brought so for his parents: a bottle of wine, a tarte tatin, a jar of truffle oil froifts served as a reht and paid for

"Mary’s getting a divorce," Rafe’s father said once he’d pulled out of the parking lot "She’s been staying in your old roo it?" Rafe had already heard about the divorce; his sister had called hi for money so she and her son Victor could take a bus houessed she’d been crying He had wired the reen tea ice creaood He wants to see his son I told hionna break probation but he’s also gonna break that loco sonofabitch’s neck"

No one, of course, thought that spindly Rafe could break Marco’s neck

The truck passed people dragging lawn chairs into their front yards for a better view of the coh it was stillleo house, srill where cousin Gabriel scorched haer patties smothered in hot sauce Mary lay on the blue couch in front of the TV, an iceher eyes Rafael walked by as quietly as he could The house was dark and the radio was turned way down For once, his greeting was subdued Only his nephew, Victor, a sparkler twirling in his hand, seemed oblivious to the somber mood

They ate waters and harill with more hot sauce and tomatoes; rice and beans; corn salad; and ice cream They drank beer and instant iced tea and the decent tequila that Gabriel had brought Mary joined theh the meal and Rafe was only half-surprised to see the blue and yellow bruise darkening her jaw Mostly, he was surprised how ry and suspicious of pity, reminded him of Lyle

When Rafe and Lyle were thirteen, they had been best friends Lyle had lived across toith his grandparents and three sisters in a house far too srand near the river that ran through the woods behind their yard There was the one about the phooka, who appeared like a goat with sulfurous yellow eyes and great curling horns and who shat on the blackberries on the first of November There was the kelpie that swam in the river and wanted to carry off Lyle and his sisters to drown and devour And there were the trooping faeries that would steal theround hills for a hundred years

Lyle and Rafe snuck out to the woods anyway They would stretch out on an old, bug-infestedon his back, Lyle’d showed Rafe how to thrust his penis between Lyle’s pressed-together thighs in "pretend" intercourse

Lyle had forbidden certain conversations No talk about the practicing, no talk about the bruises on his back and arrandfather, ever, at all Rafe thought about that, about all the conversations he had learned not to have, all the conversations he still avoided