Excerpt from The Making of Yolanda la Bruja by Lorraine Avila, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Last year, when my dreams became vivid, my anxiety got real bad. I had this recurring dream that I was walking from school to the train, and when I boarded the train, it just went on forever. It didn't make no stops. When I tried to talk to people on the train, they couldn't hear or see me. After the fourth time I had this dream, I started to walk home in my dreams, but then I was walking forever down empty streets, never getting anywhere. I told Mr. L I had a feeling something strange was going to happen to me on my way home. We walked to the train together for three whole weeks — me, him, Victory, and a bunch of other first- year students.

"Make a choice: it's either the tour or CRC. You choose. Make it quick, I have to run and go get my lunch and my hot chocolate. I'll get you something from the store too if you want. A birthday pre sent."

Julia De Burgos High is in a building shared with two diff erent other schools, so getting around when you're new is complicated. the tour, although not o(cial, is given to first- year students every year on the first week of school by Mr. L. I look at Victory as we go down the stairs. Mr. Leyva's keys make their own song as they jingle off his pants. Just do it, she mouths.

"Right now?" I ask.

Mr. L nods. "He should be in the lunchroom."

* * *

I open the heavy double doors of the lunchroom, and the heat from the boiling water they use to warm up the nasty school lunch immediately fogs my glasses. I take them off and the students who were as clear as day are now a compilation of burgundy, gold, and black, our school colors. A bunch of classmates walk past smiling or nodding. I return the greeting and continue towards the back of the lunchroom.

"Yolanda, hey!" I feel a tug on my arm. I look up and my stomach immediately drops. José is holding three birthday balloons and a gift bag.

"Happy birthday," he says.

"Thank you," I respond, looking at my arm, and then back up at him — communicating with my eyes that he should let go. Regardless of our kiss at the park last week, José must've lost his damn mind to think he has the right to demand my attention by putting hands on me in public. I repeat my staring process again when I find his hand still on my arm. I make sure to roll my eyes deep into my head this time.

"I just wanted to give you a birthday gift and talk," he says, letting go. "You've been straight up avoiding me." José is a senior, good-looking, and captain of the basketball team. It seems like the entire Bronx is praying on his success in the sport. In other words, in this school, he is used to getting what he wants. He's been trying to kick it to me since I was a first- year student last year. Although I like him, I don't want to be something else he could just have. To complicate everything, up until September's back- to- school night — when parents were invited to come in — neither of us knew that our mothers were low- key friendly. Apparently his mother worked for a couple years at the supermarket where my mother does the books.

"Listen, I haven't," I look up at him. the butterflies immediately start doing their thing as I look into his soft eyes. I suck my teeth to shake them off. "I haven't been ignoring you. I'm just busy, José," I lie. the only place I've seen him lately is Brave Space Club. Other than that, I take the long ways to avoid him because the feelings are so overwhelming. "thank you for the gift though."

He bends down and hugs me. He's wearing his basketball jersey over his school uniform shirt, and I suddenly catch a whiff of his cologne.

"I have to go do something for Mr. L. We can talk later," I say. I peel my eyes off of him before the urge to kiss him becomes unbearable. Maybe this is what the Devil card was hinting at. But I don't feel scared — I feel seen by him. that's scary, too, but not the Devil card- type scary.

Excerpted from The Making of Yolanda la Bruja by Avila Avila. Copyright © 2023 by Avila Avila. Excerpted by permission of Levine Querido. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.