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“¡Hola, Miguel! ¿Cómo estás?”
“¡Muy bien, muy bien! It’s been, what, two years since we last saw each other?”
“Way too long; get over here!”
Both Marco and his cousin grinned as they eagerly buried each other in a bone-crushing hug—not as suffocating as a full-throated Johansen wrap, but still enough for both to wince even as they basked in the still-familiar scent of red hoodie fabric from both sides of the border. The two eventually broke apart and looked at each other, quickly analysing the numerous physical changes since their last meeting: Miguel was certainly taller, for one, while Marco’s chest and shoulder blades were broader and more refined—must have been the karate and adventuring with that princess of his.
Speaking of princesses—
“Well, how’s the family?” Miguel grinned, saucily adding, “Hooked up with that princess of yours yet?”
Marco blushed. “Well…yeah?”
“Wait, you actually did?! Congratulations, man; how did you manage to do it?”
“Enh, we’re not quite sure ourselves. Took us quite some time to figure things out, but it’s like one second we weren’t together, the next we’re making out on the couch when Mom and Mariposa aren’t looking around. I’m not complaining, either way.” The former squire was visibly uncomfortable as he spoke on his complicated relationship with Star, visibly deciding to try and switch subjects. “You got anybody?”
“Nah, not that Abuelita hasn’t tried,” the teen complained. “Seriously, I’d rather just practice playing the guitar when the orders for shoes aren’t that high, but what does she do? She invites all of her neighbours over to chat while I’m playing! Seriously, the looks they’re all giving me—”
“Hold on, is that our ride?”
“What?” Miguel turned his head to the airport lobby, where an old Pizza Planet truck was waiting with his parents inside. “Oh, yeah, that’s our ride back to the house. Need any help with those bags?”
“Oh, these?” Looking down to the five or so plastic bags filled to the brim with goodies, delicacies, and trinkets—gifts for his relatives, Rafael had mentioned—the teen quickly nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Be careful, I think one of Dad’s vases might be in one of those.”
Marco’s cousin nodded. “Will do. So, what brings you here below the border?”
The former squire nervously grinned. “Yeah, well, I actually kind of need to ask a favor from you.”
“¡Absolutamente no!”
Marco and Miguel’s faces fell. The latter was the first to reply, quickly responding in fluent Spanish, “But Abuelita, this is important for Marco! It’s going to be the first anniversary for his relationship with her, and he’s really desperate—”
“Out of the question! Under no way am I going to let you steal this prized family heirloom just so you can pleasure that slutty skater girlfriend of yours or that chaotic tomboy she consorts with, and that’s the end of this discussion!”
“But—” Miguel blinked. “Wait, ‘skater girlfriend’? Marco, who did you say you were dating again?”
“Abuelita, I’m not dating Jackie Lynn Thomas anymore! I’m talking about Star Butterfly, the magical princess!”
The elderly woman paused. “¿La princesa mágica?”
“Er…yes?”
“Well, why didn’t you say that sooner?! About time, too—I always did say you and Star were meant to be the perfect couple! And a princess, too! Of course you can borrow Hector’s guitar—tell you what, let’s bring the whole family along so we can capture this precious moment for all eternity! Come along, get your bags packed, we’re leaving tomorrow morning!”
“Okay, okay—wait.” Marco frowned, raising an eyebrow as he warily eyed his cousin. “Miguel, what exactly did your grandma say about Jackie, again?”
The former squire’s understanding of Spanish was minimal, at best.
“Look, until Janna and I figure out how to send him and his companions back to his own point in time, could you two kindly keep an eye on him? Make sure nothing happens to him, or at the very least keep his body intact if he gets into any trouble.”
“All right, Tom,” Marco wearily replied, turning to the corner of the couch where Miguel was cowering (holy water and crucifix at hand), “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Marco. Oh, and save some tickets for me and Janna, will you? I’m looking to bring Mom and Dad to the prom as well, if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Star’s bringing Moon and River over, and you’ve seen the entire clan I’ve currently got here.”
“Right. Well, see you later.” With a snap of his finger and a pillar of flames, Tom disappeared almost as quickly as he came; slowly, Miguel reemerged from behind the sofa, his eyes wandering between Marco, the spot where his demon friend had been, and the newly arrived stranger who was looking around in clear confusion.
“Okay,” Leo carefully began, “can someone kindly fill me in on what just happened?”
“Marco, you’re friends with the freaking Devil?!”
The former squire raised his hands. “Okay, first , don’t insult Tom like that. Two, he’s a very close friend of mine who’s saved my life on numerous occasions—”
“But he’s a freaking demon! Marco, what the heck?!”
“Guys, can I have a word in?”
“Miguel, wait—”
“No, you listen to me! What deals have you made with him? Do we need to take you to the nearest church to be purified with holy water?” Miguel’s eyes widened. “Did you get your magical princess after bargaining with him?!”
Marco’s face flared with anger. “Don’t you dare insult Star like that! No, she wasn’t created by the Devil! She may be as chaotic as a demon, but she sure as hell ain’t one!”
“Oh, are you sure? Because it sure seems like—”
“No? Nobody’s going to talk to me? Okay, then,” Leo remarked resignedly, before curiously looking around at the numerous furniture and decorations and appliances decorating the Diaz house. “So, this is the point in time where Teodora came from…ooh, nice guitar.”
As Miguel and Marco continued to bicker regarding the latter’s questionable choice of companions, Leo carefully picked up Héctor Rivera’s prized instrument, gently adjusting the tuning pegs until the sounds produced by the guitar sounded just about right. Softly clearing his throat, he strummed the artifact’s delicate strings—the melodious refrain quickly grabbing the attention of the two other people in the room—and began to sing.
Ay sandunga, sandunga mamá por Dios
Sandunga no seas ingrata, mamá de mi corazón
Ay sandunga, sandunga mamá por dios
Sandunga no seas ingrata, mamá de mi corazón
Chuckling nervously to himself, Leo replaced the guitar with great care to its original place nestled to the side of the couch, awkwardly averting his eyes from the surprised stares of his captive audience. “Yeah, well, it’s nothing much, I suppose.”
Miguel slowly spoke up, “Er, if you don’t mind me asking, what did you say your name was again?”
Leo frowned. “Leonardo San Juan. Why do you ask?”
The teen’s eyes widened with recognition. “San Juan? Mama Coco did say her great-grandfather’s family name was San Juan! What was his wife’s name again, Marcellina or Angelina or Teodora or something?”
“I have a girlfriend by the name of Marcella, although we do also happen to have a plus-one named Teodora. She’s a ghost from the future—this point of time, in fact—but we’ve managed to make it work, somehow.” The temporally displaced adventurer gave Miguel a questioning look. “Why, do you reckon we’re related or something?”
“Maybe, some kind of distant ancestor or something? I don’t know, it could be just a coincidence. The folks back at home did say he was quite the adventurer back in his time.”
“Oh, really?” Donning a cocky grin, Leo joked, “I suppose you could both call me Abuelito then, right? Right?” Seeing the lackluster reaction plastered on both of the boys’ faces, he half-heartedly continued, “No? Okay, nevermind. I’ll just…make myself sparse, then…”
Marco looked at his cousin questioningly. Miguel simply shrugged. Sighing, the squire turned to his ancestor, who was now curiously tinkering with the kitchen faucet; hot water streamed out of the tap, causing the adventurer to gasp in surprise.
“Whoah, how does it do that?”
“Um…Leo?”
“Oh? Me? How can I help you?”
“Quick question: how good exactly are you on the guitar?”
The group’s first song complete, the former squire waited for the applause to fade away before reaching for the mike once more.
“Hi. My name’s Marco Diaz, we’re the Aliens, and these are the boys.”
“Is that girl a boy, too?”
The brown-haired Latina behind the drum kit glared at the heckler with a flip of the finger to boot. Marco’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes. And now, for the guy that keeps yelling from halfway across the auditorium, this song’s called ‘We Hate You, Please Die.’ Miguel?”
Smirking at the reference, the Mexican bassist reached for his guitar’s neck.
“Okay, so we’ve got ourselves a lead singer, a lead guitarist, and a bassist. What we now need is a percussionist to round out the whole lineup. What are your opinions regarding the current candidates?”
Leo squinted at the list, warily scrutinising each of the names inscribed on the paper. “Alfonso and Ferguson were middling in their auditions. That demon friend of yours is reasonably competent, but I think he’d serve the band better on the guitar than behind the drum kit.”
“Justin?”
Miguel shook his head. “Kept insulting the two of us the entire time, and his girlfriend kept hovering around him and giving me the creeps. Not him.”
“Oskar?”
Leo and Miguel simultaneously shuddered. “Absolutely not.”
Marco sighed, offhandedly tossing the list to the side as he rose from his seat and wearily stretched his arms. “Well, what then? That’s virtually all the people we have available from this side of the country, so if you guys don’t know anybody else or have any other distant relations we could pay a visit to, I say we just give the job to Tom and hope for the best—”
“Actually,” Miguel suddenly replied, “I might know just the person who could help us.”
“Oh?”
The guitarist reached for his pocket, pulling out a notebook and quickly shuffling through the pages in search of a particular name. “She’s a distant cousin of mine who lives on the other side of the continent, near the East Coast. Met her a couple times during the family reunions, and I may have managed to sneak in a drum set into one of the nearby rooms for the two of us to mess with, back before Abuelita and Mama Coco decided to let the family start playing music again.”
Marco’s eyes widened in recognition. “Her? Oh yeah, now I remember—she kept asking me to read Good Witch Azura for her whenever we met. How is she these days?”
“Last time I checked, she was doing well with her own set of magical shenanigans—something like what happened to you and that girlfriend of yours, Marco. Ah, here she is; she lives in Bonesborough, Connecticut, with her mom, and apparently is an expert in glyph-based magic after a bunch of weird shenanigans in a local summer camp.”
“Huh, does magic and adventure run in the family or something?” Leo leaned forward. “Is she good at the drums?”
Marco grinned. “From what I recall? You bet.”
“Of course, I’d love to play in your band! Can I ask for a small favor, though?”
Marco shrugged. “Sure, what is it?”
Luz blushed slightly as she leaned forward towards her fellow conspirator. “See, I have a girlfriend whom I want to give a special surprise to for our upcoming Grom anniversary date—”
“And that one’s for Ms. Noceda’s cotton candy-haired goddess, Amity Blight, everybody!”
The round tomato that was once Luz’s girlfriend had a massive loopy grin plastered on her glowing face even as Star, Teodora, and Marcella excitedly swarmed around her. Looking down from the stage at the cheering ladies on the rafters below, Marco laughed at the sight as he signalled to his bandmates and reached for the guitar.
Ella durmió al calor de las masas
Y yo desperté, queriendo soñarla…
THE ALIENS
- Marco Diaz—lead vocals, piano, acoustic guitar, rhythm guitar
- Miguel Rivera—lead vocals, backing vocals, acoustic guitar, bass guitar
- Leo San Juan—lead vocals, backing vocals, lead guitar, keyboards
- Luz Noceda—lead vocals, backing vocals, drums, ukulele, percussion
Also featuring:
- Tom Lucitor—lead guitar
- Gus Porter—special effects