Scary Stories. Naomy

Friday had finally arrived, and Naomy was excited. Her brother would be coming home, and she’d get to spend time with him. At twenty years old, Juan was already a legend in the neighborhood. He hadn't finished middle school, but he knew he didn’t need to. What he earned was enough to start a comfortable life.

Two years ago, he had moved to Tepito to help with a friend’s bootleg DVD business. He had learned the knack for fixing electronics, computers, and consoles.

"Whoo-hoo!" Naomy shouted when she saw Juan arriving with two suitcases.

“Take'it easy, morra, don' get so worked up," her brother told her, pushing her away from an embrace he didn't want.

Juan left the suitcases at the entrance and sat on the house’s old sofa. Naomy looked at the bags and wondered which one she should open first.

"The green one," Juan remarked, noticing his sister’s curiosity. "Your gifts are there."

Naomy saw a pile of clothes, magazines, CDs, and perfumes for both men and women. Her eyes lit up when she saw an imitation of Anahí’s school uniform, a knock-off perfume of her favorite brand, and some pirated CDs that had already been released in the United States.

Naomy pulled out a few magazines. She saw one with a dark cover under the title: Spells and Curses. Juan saw the magazine, stood up, and looked at the object his sister was holding with a confused expression.

"Morra, what’s that?" Juan asked, leaning in to get a better look.

"It's called a magazine, you dumb," Naomy replied mockingly.

"Don' be a dumbass, I know that," Juan defended himself while giving his sister a smack on the head. "What I don't get’is how it got’in there."

Naomy looked at her brother, annoyed. The hit had actually hurt. Juan grabbed the magazine with the sole intention of throwing it away.

"Wait, don't throw it out!" Naomy shouted, stopping her brother. She snatched the magazine back. "Emily will have a blast with this."

"That frien' of yours is so bas’c," Juan said mockingly.

"None of your damn business," Naomy snapped, still angry about the hit.

Naomy took her gifts and went to her room. There were several items of clothing she didn't like. She could give them to Karla as a joke; she’d wear whatever fit her, regardless of whether it matched. She put on one of the CDs to distract herself.

She looked at the magazine. It really was strange, and she understood why her brother had questioned it. She flipped through it; at first glance, it looked like a normal magazine, with articles and photos decorating the massive paragraphs. One thing she always disliked about magazines was the invasive advertising. This magazine didn't have any—not even for clothes or perfumes.

She kept leafing through it for a while without paying much attention. She stopped at an article that caught her eye. It promised that you could see the future if you recited a certain phrase at a certain time. The steps were easy to follow.

Her bedroom door swung open, and Juan walked in without permission. Before she could complain or protest, Naomy saw two of his friends enter with a full-length mirror. The wood looked high-quality but worn out—old.

"An antique!" Naomy said excitedly, jumping off the bed to see the mirror.

"As old’as our folks," Juan stated. His friends laughed a little.

When Juan and his friends left the room, Naomy called her friends; she had an idea for some fun. They could spend all saturday playing and hanging out, and at night, perform that ritual just for fun. She really needed it. Emily and Karla were easy to convince.

"I can go," Emily responded excitedly. "You know my mom is working tomorrow and she'll give me permission. But, can't it be on Sunday?"

"Why Sunday?"

"I hate going to mass," Emily replied listlessly. "My stupid grandma bought me a new dress and wants me to wear it on sunday for catechism."

"Karla would be happy to go to catechism with you. Don't let her down," Naomy laughed, teasing both of her friends. "We'll do it tomorrow so you and Karla can go to church on Sunday without any problems."

Emily groaned in annoyance at her friend's teasing. She changed the subject. Now the problem was convincing Lucía. For her, Saturdays were for taking all sorts of courses. Emily was the one who mocked her friend the most, mentioning that she’d probably be in english, french, or german classes. Or maybe a computer or math course.

It was Naomy who called her friend. When the news was given to Lucía, she insisted to her parents that she go. Her father wasn't convinced about her going to her friend's house. He always called her the "bad influence."

"I never liked her brother," he commented, somewhat irritated. "Isn't he the one involved with those dealers?"

"Which dealers?" her mother asked, confused.

"You know, the ones selling that damn weed."

Lucía’s mother rolled her eyes and forbade her daughter from going to her friend's house. She didn't like her daughter associating with those people. She started complaining about her daughter's choice of friends, how she should choose them better, and plenty of "blah, blah, blah" that her daughter already knew. Lucía didn't say anything else. It was better that way.

It was Naomy’s mother who called later that day after not receiving confirmation of Lucía’s attendance. Both women argued. They were not screaming, but neither would be convinced. While one woman insisted her daughter had to study to get into University and be "someone" in life, the other woman argued she needed to relax—Lucía was only in middle school.

At the end of the day, just so they would leave her alone, Lucía’s mother grudgingly agreed to let her daughter go.

"You’ve been warned, Lucía," the mother declared, already irritated by the fight. "You will spend sunday at home with no contact with those girls you call your friends. I don't want you to disappoint me."

Lucía felt bad. Mostly because she saw these gatherings as potential trouble—as something she should avoid. And her mother was proving her right without saying it. She had to decide RIGHT NOW if she wanted to be their friend or find a more "suitable" group, as her mother would say.