The Morales cookout wasn’t just a cookout, it was an event. The kind that somehow dragged in half the neighborhood, two church friends, three coworkers, and one random guy who “knew Jeff from high school.”

The air was thick with the smell of charcoal and spice, the kind that made your stomach growl even if you’d already eaten twice. Smoke curled lazily into the evening air as Rio flipped pastelillos on a tray, music booming from a speaker someone had balanced dangerously on a cooler. There was no single song playing.. just a chaotic playlist of reggaetón and old-school R&B.

“Miles!” Rio called, voice slicing through the music like a bell. “Aye, mijo, no te escondas allá. Come here!”

His mom motioned him over, waving a spoon like a weapon. “Go talk to Yuima! Her parents are right there by the grill. They’re lovely! We met at that Visions Academy parents thing!”

Rio gave him the patented don’t test me, hijo look. “Then you’ll know her after. ¡Anda!”

Jeff laughed from behind the grill, spatula in hand. “She’s got a point, Miles. Go make a friend before we ground you longer."