Chapter Text
Before Camilo knew it, three hours had come and gone.
Miguel’s father found the two boys engaged in a competitive fútbol match in the backyard. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Miguel! Come inside and change! You are not wearing those clothes to the Madrigal’s.”
Camilo took full advantage of the distraction, sliding his feet under Miguel’s guard and booting the ball as hard as he could. It soared through the two large rocks that served as his goal.
“Yesssss!” He beat his chest. “Take that! 6-5.” He expanded the muscles in his calves and gestured to them with a flourish. “Pure power, niño! Look at that.”
“Aww, come on, Cami! That was dirty!” Miguel plopped his ass down onto the ground, out of breath.
“Sounds like someone’s a sore loser~”
“Miguel! I’m not telling you again!”
Miguel craned his head back. “Coming papá!”
Camilo turned his attention to the older man as his friend struggled to his feet. “Hey, Señor Rojas, what time is it?” The sun had dipped below the horizon, the sky streaked with a gradient of red, orange, and yellow.
Miguel’s father fished out a brass pocket watch, flicked it open, and reported, “about 7pm. Are you sure you’re supposed to be here instead of back home?”
“Mierda!”
The party was starting in half an hour. His mamá was going to kill him.
“Camilo can just walk with us, right papá?”
He gave Miguel a look of pure gratitude, folding his hands over his heart and tilting his head appreciatively. A genius, Miguel was a genius! Pepa wouldn’t yell at him if he was among company.
“Is that alright with your family, Camilo?” Señor Rojas asked, a brow lifted. “It’ll take us a little bit to get ready. Are you sure you don’t need to be back earlier?”
“All good, señor!” Camilo shot him a thumbs up and a megawatt grin.
“Okay, then I don’t see a problem with you walking with us.”
Yes!
Señor Rojas went back inside his house, and Camilo and Miguel high-fived.
“You owe me one, amigo.”
“I’ll return the favor one day,” Camilo laughed.
🦋 🦋 🦋
Approximately forty-five minutes later, the Rojas family, plus Camilo, were out the door and strolling down the streets of Encanto. Señor Rojas carried two bottles of crystal clear aguardiente and a box of pork empanadas. His esposa had her arms full with a three month old baby.
Miguel and Camilo lagged behind, shoving each other playfully and pretending to be model citizens whenever Señor Rojas glanced back at them. They had to be careful though. Miguel had shoved four strings of firecrackers into his pants. If they got too rough, they risked them slipping out and falling out onto the ground.
Once the lights of Casita winked into view, Miguel dipped down close to Camilo’s ear and whispered, “Last chance, Cami. Sure you don’t wanna go to the river with me?”
Camilo heaved a sigh. “Yes. I’m sure. Go have fun without me.”
“Impossible.” Miguel grinned.
“Ah, is that Señor y Señora Rojas I see?” Somewhere behind, a man with a booming voice called out to them.
Everyone stopped: Camilo, Miguel, and his parents.
“Señor Jiménez, what a pleasure!” Señor Rojas replied warmly. “It’s been too long! How’s the store?”
“Business is better than ever,” he said proudly. “My darling Carmita works the sales counter now. All by herself!” He clapped a hand on the shoulder of a teenage girl carrying a huge basket of fruit—ripe bananas, fresh limes, pineapples, mangoes, and papayas, all piled up together in an attractive jumble. Camilo felt his mouth water at the sight.
“Ay papá!” The girl exclaimed in loving exasperation. “I’m not five! Running the sales counter is a breeze!”
“So talented, mi hija,” Señor Jiménez cooed.
“Well, I for one want to know all about the new merchandise you’ve added,” Señora Rojas piped up. “Is it true you’re thinking of opening a second location?”
“That is actually something we’re hoping to do in the future.”
The adults clustered together and continued their trek, absorbed in companionable conversation, while the teenagers followed a moderate distance behind in their own group.
“So, Carmen,” Miguel opened excitedly. If he had a tail, Camilo reckoned it would be wagging at mach speed right now. “How excited are you for this party?”
“I think it’ll be really fun!” She replied, all smiles. “I’m ready to fill my stomach and talk to some people I haven’t seen in a while.”
“Well…” Miguel shot Camilo a quick, meaningful look. “What if I told you there was an even better place you could spend your evening?”
“I would say I’m intrigued and you should go on.”
“Picture it,” Miguel said, stopping in front of her with his hands up and making their whole trio stop as a result.
Oh boy. Camilo rolled his eyes discreetly. Miguel was in full I’m talking to a girl, so I’m going to try and act smooth mode.
“Gorgeous, sparkling waters, lit by the soft twinkling glow of fireflies.” He fluttered his fingers.
Safely out of Miguel’s view, Camilo transformed into him and mimicked his movements, mouthing the words he spoke and exaggerating his gestures.
“I’m listening.” Carmen giggled.
“A group of awesome people with a bit of aguardiente to sweeten the deal, courtesy of my boy Diego—”
“Aren’t we technically too young to drink?”
“—and, get this, the finest fireworks money can buy,” Miguel continued. “Sounds pretty cool, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose it does,” Carmen retorted goodnaturedly.
“Soooo, what do you think about joining?”
“Oh, um…” She looked askance. “It sounds fun, but…”
“C’mon Carmen, you’re cool,” Miguel urged. “This is right up your alley. You’ll love it, I promise.”
“I’m sure I would, but I do actually want to go to the Madrigal’s party. There’s someone- some people I want to hang out with.”
“Maybe they’ll be at the river too.”
“I kind of doubt that,” Carmen said, smiling softly and a bit apologetically.
“We won’t be away from the party the whole time! Just the first half!”
Gross. Camilo resisted the urge to gag. Miguel was obviously getting desperate. So not cool. Who cared if Carmen did or didn’t go with him to the river? Did Miguel have a crush on her or something?
Camilo appraised the slight flush to his friend’s cheeks and the anxious look in his eyes. Oh. Ha! He totally did. Camilo stifled a laugh into his hand. Miguel was never gonna hear the end of this, not from him.
“Please Carmen? I promise you won’t regret it!”
She chewed on her lip and looked up to the sky in deliberation. “Hmm. Hmmmm. Ah, what the hell? Yeah, I’m in!’
“Wait, really? Yes!” Miguel did a dorky little happy dance.
Dios, what an idiot. Camilo watched him jump around, unimpressed.
“So long as we go to the party afterwards,” Carmen added.
“We will! Don’t worry, we will!”
“Oh, wait!” Carmen said with sudden seriousness.
“Huh?” Miguel froze mid fist pump. “What? What is it?”
She groaned. “I just remembered. I can’t go with you. I’m going to be in Antonio’s play. I completely forgot! Sorry Miguel.” To her credit, she did look genuinely sorry.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Miguel hurried to say, “don’t worry about that! Camilo here,” he jabbed a thumb in said boy’s direction, “as you probably know, can make himself look like any person. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking your place so you can go to the river.”
Uh… what? Camilo slowly turned to level Miguel with a fervid stare. He ignored eye contact, the bastard, and chuckled uncomfortably. “Camilo, you’d do me and Carmen a solid just this once, right?”
Camilo scowled. “I’m in the same play she’s in. If I pretend to be her for the night, then people will be all huffy that I’m missing.”
“Yeah, but you’re already in hot water anyways. This won’t make a difference!”
Carmen ping-ponged her gaze between the two boys, bemused but enthralled by the unspoken battle between them.
Miguel finally looked Camilo in the eyes. Please, just do this for me, his gaze screamed.
No. I get nothing out of this deal, said Camilo’s returning glare.
Then Miguel hit him with the puppy dog eyes. Large, trembling, and pitiful. But you owe me, they seemed to whimper.
…Fuck.
Camilo exhaled heavily. Unbelievable. Today was unbelievable. “Fine,” he relented, defeated. “I’ll do it.”
“Ahhhh, Cami! You’re the best! Isn’t he the best, Carmen?”
“Uh, sure.”
“You have to stay as Carmen the entire time, okay?” Miguel ordered sternly, because he evidently had zero regard for his own safety. First chance Camilo got, he was rubbing the stink bombs they’d made into Miguel’s clothes; he’d stuff a couple into his desk at school too, for good measure.
“No getting bored and changing back into yourself until we’re back,” Miguel continued. “Otherwise, we’ll all get in trouble.”
“I’m already regretting this,” Camilo muttered. “Here, Carmen, give me the basket.” He held a hand out and wiggled his fingers.
She deposited her heaping container of fruit into his waiting arms and stepped back. “Thanks Camilo. This is nice of you to do.”
“Yeah…” He sighed again and shifted into Carmen’s short, curvy figure, complete with a periwinkle blue dress, a multichrome dragonfly pin, and cream-colored sandals.
“Alright, get out of here kids, before I change my mind.” He shooed Miguel and Carmen away with grandmotherly fatigue. He sure felt old. These entitled, young whippersnappers, making so many demands of him. Tsk tsk.
Miguel had the audacity to shoot Camilo a wink and a thumbs up behind Carmen’s back as they walked off in the direction of the river.
Grumbling under his breath, Camilo hiked up the fruit basket in his arms and trundled off to Casita all by his lonesome. He plotted how to get back at Miguel the whole way there.
Pepper in his tinto? Not bad, but also kinda juvenile, too simple. Pink hair dye in his shampoo? Been there, done that—on Isabela actually, about a year ago. Disappointingly, her hair had been too dark for the dye to make much of a difference. Bugs in his bed? Now that had potential. Miguel was deathly afraid of crickets. Crickets of all things!
It didn’t take Camilo too long to catch back up to the Rojas and Jiménez families. They stood in a loose circle outside of Casita. The doors were already wide open to the public, and Camilo could see people milling around inside, depositing food at the long line of tables, hugging old friends, and chatting with neighbors.
“There you are, mi vida,” Carmen’s father announced. “We were starting to wonder if you had run off.” He belly-laughed at his own joke.
“Haha, yep.” Camilo remarked lazily, still feeling a bit salty.
“Where are the boys?” Señor Rojas asked with a frown.
Camilo shrugged. “They said something about meeting up with other friends. They’re probably doing that.”
“Well, my Miguel better not be gone long or he’s going to get an earful from me.”
“Haha, is he a handful?” Señor Jiménez nudged Señor Rojas’s shoulder.
“You have no idea,” Señora Rojas declared in lieu of her husband. “My hair is turning gray because of him. I’m going to look like an abuela before this little one can even walk on his own.” She rubbed noses with the little infant in her arms.
The adults shared another good laugh at that.
“Not my Carmen! She keeps me young!” Señor Jiménez slung an arm around Camilo’s shoulder and squeezed him up close to his side. His cheek squished uncomfortably against the man’s chest.
“Although, I dread the day she gets a boyfriend. No one’s good enough for mi pequeña niña!” He shook his fist in the air.
Camilo was unspeakably grateful when Mirabel peeked her head through the front entryway. Her eyes lit up with joy when she saw him, and she beckoned him over.
Thank heavens! A familiar face. One who wouldn’t poke and prod and coddle him. He hoped. He didn’t actually know what her and Carmen’s relationship looked like.
“Mirabel is calling me over, papá. I better go,” Camilo proclaimed with barely contained elation. He grunted with exertion and pushed himself out of Señor Jiménez’s grasp.
“Ah, there she goes with her friend. So grown up. No more time for papá.” Carmen’s father sighed dejectedly, wiping away nonexistent tears.
Camilo could not get away fast enough.
He skipped up Casita’s front steps and almost barreled into his cousin.
“Mirabel!” He gasped in relief.
“Carmen!” She returned. “Check it out.” Mirabel pointed to a small butterfly brooch near her collarbone. “We match,” she said a little shyly.
“Huh? Oh yeah, I guess we do. Sort of.”
Something in Mirabel’s expression faltered for the briefest second. But Camilo might’ve imagined it because it was back to normal in the blink of an eye.
“Uh, let me get that for you.”
She took the Jiménezs’ fruit basket from Camilo’s arms and transferred it onto a table.
“Hey, I know you just got here, but can I show you something upstairs? I’d like your advice.” Mirabel twisted one hand in her skirt and used the other to adjust her glasses, chuckling awkwardly.
It seemed like a deceptively simple question, but frankly? Camilo was already struggling. What was Carmen even like? Camilo barely knew the girl. How did she act around Mirabel? Were they close? He had no idea! The whole butterfly pin exchange had seemed innocuous at a glance, but that little look Mirabel had worn on her face in the aftermath…
Think, Camilo, think, he ordered himself. What would an average nice, happy, extroverted girl do in this situation?
Would she respond with polite formalities? Or loud enthusiasm? Cordial but detached? Or casual and intimate? How on earth was he supposed to put on a convincing performance when he hadn’t had any time to study his character?
“You don’t have to come with me right now if you do want to!” Mirabel said hastily. “I understand if you want to say hello to some of the other guests first.”
Camilo ultimately decided, fuck it, and pushed all his chips to the middle of the table. Today, Carmen was going to be hyper-friendly. He smiled wide, grabbed Mirabel's hand (she jumped a little when he did that, the spazz), and cheerfully told her, “Nonsense! Lead the way!"