Chapter Text
Camilo Madrigal was a natural-born entertainer. Even before he’d received his gift, he was known for his outlandish stories, creative pranks, and gut-busting jokes. And his reputation for performance only grew once he gained the ability to shapeshift.
He knew just what to say to turn his mamá’s storm clouds to rainbows. He was an expert in pushing prima Isabela’s buttons without getting thwacked by her vines. (She could scoff and deny all she wanted; he saw the effort it took to keep her mouth from twitching into a smile. She was rarely ever actually mad at him.) He could mimic his papá’s voice so closely he even fooled Dolores.
Dios, half the time he was in town, children swarmed him, tugging impatiently at his ruana and begging in high squeaky voices, “Camilo, Camilo! Do Bruno! Now Mirabel. Wait, can you do Luisa? Make her do the chicken dance!”
So it made sense why his adorable baby brother Antonio approached him for help with his play.
“What role do you want me to play, hermanito? The knight? The witch? The dragon?”
Antonio’s script was ambitious, something Camilo respected. The bundle of papers cradled in his little arms was sure to include a litany of musical numbers, plot twists, and telenovela-worthy drama.
“Nope!” Antonio giggled. “I want you to be the prince. Can you do that?”
“Pfft! No hay problema. I could do that in my sleep.”
Camilo shifted into the tall, strapping Mariano, swept a hand through his hair, and pouted broodily. He stared off into the distance.
“Princesa.” Camilo reached forward, grasping at nothing. “I will save you. I will bring you back to my castle, marry you, and spend the rest of my life with you and our fifty children.”
Camilo shrunk back down to his original form and nudged Antonio’s shoulder. “How was that, eh? Pretty spot on, yeah?” He puffed his chest out smugly.
“Could do with some work, but not the worst.” Antonio smiled sweetly.
“Oi-”
“Camilo! There you are!” Pepa rounded the corner. “Your Tío Bruno needs help with the balloons. Quit slacking off, and go help him.” She snapped her fingers. “C’mon, chop chop!”
“Yes mamá.” Camilo sighed. He dragged his feet over the tile, head hanging dramatically. But he paused once Pepa swept fully out of the room, muttering as clouds gathered above her head.
“Psst, Antonio, who else is gonna be in the play?”
The youngest Madrigal looked up from the papers he had been scribbling onto with crayon. He slid out one of the sheets and handed it to his older brother. “Here’s the cast list.”
Camilo skimmed over the roles. Witch - Isabela. He chuckled at that one. Served her right for being so prissy all the time. Oh, how the mighty fall! From Señorita Perfecta to evil old crone in only two years. He wondered gleefully if Antonio would make her wear a fake wart on her nose. That would be hilarious. Prince - Camilo. Princess - Carmen.
Camilo pursed his lips. Carmen Jiménez was a girl his age from town, the tailor’s daughter, if he remembered correctly. She also might or might not have been in Mirabel’s class at the schoolhouse. He didn’t really know her all that well, but most people seemed to like her. She was nice, supposedly. Friendly.
He recognized the names of some of Antonio’s friends, slated to play the narrator and a couple of background characters. Luisa was cast as the dragon—which had to be the result of some form of favoritism. How else had she gotten so lucky?
Camilo grinned when he saw Knight - Mirabel. Most of her scenes would be with him, which meant he could tease her under his breath when she inevitably tripped over her own feet. The girl was the clumsiest person on earth, Camilo was sure of it.
There were some blank spaces on the list as well. Evidently, Antonio hadn’t found enough people to play all of his characters yet.
“CAMILO!” Thunder crashed close by. Too close. “I told you to help Tío Bruno!”
“Ah-” Camilo jumped. “C-coming mamá!”
🦋 🦋 🦋
Mirabel sighed as she molded what felt like her millionth arepa into a disc.
“Keep doing that and you’ll run out of air,” her mamá chided gently.
Mirabel groaned. “We’ve been working for hours. Do we really need all this food? The townsfolk are bringing their own dishes too!”
Julieta smiled indulgently. “There will be alcohol at the party, mi vida. And you know what happens when the people of Encanto drink.”
“Injuries,” Mirabel replied with a frown. “Lots of dumb injuries.”
“Exactly. Now, why don’t you finish up that batch without complaining, and then I’ll let you go take a break.”
“Really?” Mirabel wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She grabbed another chunk of dough from her bowl and rolled it into a ball at double-speed. She smashed it into a disc, tossed it onto a heaping platter of raw arepas, ready to be cooked, and repeated the motion until the bowl was empty.
“Okay, I’m done, bye bye!” Mirabel rushed out of the kitchen, backed by her mamá’s exasperated laughter.
“Don’t forget to wash your hands, cariño!”
Mirabel knew exactly where she wanted to go spend her break. Carmen Jiménez told her a few days ago that a new shipment had arrived at her family’s store.
She raced down the cobblestone streets, twirling around passersby, and humming in tune with the guitars, drums, and accordions being played.
“Mirabel!” Cecilia, a little girl she knew with twin braids, waved at her excitedly. “What gifts do the Madrigals have again?”
Mirabel swore she asked this same question every other day, as did the majority of kids in town. They knew what gifts Mirabel’s family had; they just liked to hear about them over and over again.
“Sorry, Cecilia, no time to talk! I’ll catch up with you at the party!”
The Jiménez Fabric Shop was a hotspot for many of Encanto’s señoras. They had the most durable, vivid fabrics, affordable spools of thread in every color of the rainbow, and rare, gorgeous trimmings. Gold buttons, elegant lace, pretty cloth flowers, they had it all! And Mirabel wanted to see the new stock for herself before other customers snatched it up.
She burst through the store’s door like a bull, huffing in exertion. The overhead bell tinkled in welcome.
Carmen peered over from the sales counter and beamed. “Mirabel! Bienvenidas! It’s good to see you!”
“Yeah,” Mirabel gasped, breathless, “you too!”
Carmen hopped off her stool and ambled over to her, weaving around stacked bolts of fabric and little kiosks full of needles, yarn, fringe, beads, and baubles. “Haha, did you run here?”
“Yep,” Mirabel wheezed.
“Pfft! I suppose I should be flattered. Maybe we should change our slogan. ‘When we roll out our wares, you come running.’ I quite like that, don’t you? Makes us sound really popular.”
“You are, hah, popular.”
“Oh gosh, Mirabel. Let me get you something to drink. It’s pretty hot outside. Can’t believe you actually ran all the way here.”
Carmen shuffled back over to the sales counter and returned with a glass of ice cold water. “Here you go!”
Mirabel gulped it down gratefully. “Ay dios mio, thank you! Thank you so much! I needed that.”
“Haha, no hay problema!” Carmen smiled wide, her chocolate brown eyes curving into happy little lunas crecientes.
Mirabel had always privately admired Carmen, in class and outside of it. She was smart, kind, funny. And she wore the cutest outfits—pastel pinks, blues, and purples that stood out against her smooth, dark skin.
Today she had woven thin gold threads through her black curls.
Mirabel bit her lip when she realized she was staring, her face warm. It really was hot outside.
“Now,” Carmen clapped her hands together. “Since you just drank all my water, how do you think you should make it up to me?”
Was… Mirabel glanced at the empty cup she still held in her hands. Was this Carmen’s? Had she just drank from Carmen’s glass?!
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t know this was yours!”
Carmen burst out laughing. “You should see the look on your face! It’s like I accused you of murder or something!” She slapped her knee, tearing up. “Ohoho hee hee hoo, you’re too funny!”
Mirabel flushed, embarrassed. She was used to this sort of teasing from her family and even her older neighbors, but not people her age.
“Ah, that gave me a good laugh… Seriously, it’s alright, Mirabel. I was just joking with you.”
“So this wasn’t your glass?” Mirabel asked, handing it off to Carmen.
“Oh no, it was! But I wasn’t actually mad at you or anything. Go ahead and take a look around the store while I put this away. In my opinion, the coolest stuff is in the front corner. I’ll be right back!” She disappeared through a beaded doorway.
Her heart still hammering, Mirabel decided to take Carmen’s advice. She walked over to a tray on a table in the corner.
She gasped in delight when she saw what was laid out: sparkling brooches, hair pieces, and charms. Mirabel sifted through the treasure and let the therapeutic drag of her fingers through the delicate metal calm her heartbeat.
There was a barrette shaped like a sun that reminded her of Tía Pepa and a sleek tie clip that her papá would probably love. There were also a bunch of jeweled flowers that Isabela could probably identify by name.
She picked up a small butterfly pin. When she turned it in the light, its colors shifted. Blue. Green. Yellow. Pink. Mirabel tilted it back and forth in her hand, awed by its beauty.
“Like that one?” She heard from over her shoulder. Mirabel whirled around to find Carmen smiling pleasantly.
“It kinda looks like mine,” she continued, tapping a dragonfly brooch on her chest in the same color palette. “You should get it. Then we could match!”
Match? With Carmen? The thought did funny things to Mirabel’s stomach. But in a good way. So she grinned and said, “Yeah, I think I will!”
Mirabel reached for her bag only to grasp at air. She patted her hip, confused, then checked her other side. Nope. Nothing.
“Oh no!” She cried in dismay. “I left my bag at home!”
Carmen surprised her when she dissolved into yet another fit of laughter.
Mirabel carded her fingers through her hair and tugged on the ends. “Mierda! Carmen, could you put this on hold for me or something? I promise I’ll come back and pay for it as soon as I can.”
Carmen flapped the air in front of her. “No hay necesidad. Here.” She held out her hand.
Mirabel obligingly dropped the butterfly pin into her open palm.
“Come with me,” Carmen said, and she led Mirabel over to the sales counter where she pulled out a sheet of tanned paper and gingerly wrapped up the pin. “There we are! On the house.”
“What? No, I’ll pay for it, just give me-”
“Oh, hush.” Carmen rolled her eyes. “Think of it as a gift. Or maybe an apology for making fun of you.”
“But-”
“You better accept it!” She wagged her finger threateningly. “Or you’ll hurt my feelings.”
Mirabel caved with a smile and a sigh. “Okay. Thank you, Carmen. I really appreciate this.” She looked down at the wrapped butterfly in admiration.
“You’re welcome! Oh, and one more thing.”
Mirabel raised her eyebrows. “Hm?”
Carmen leaned in close, and suddenly Mirabel’s heart was in her throat. The girl plucked out a small clump of cornmeal, previously caught in one of Mirabel’s curls. She flicked it away.
“There we go. You had something in your hair. All better now!”
“O-oh! Thank- Thanks! Thank you!”
Mirabel needed to get out of there. Quick. Before she made even more of a fool of herself. What was going on with her today? She spun on her heel and nearly fell flat on her face, stumbling ungracefully.
“Woah, Mirabel, are you okay?!”
She righted herself, cheeks burning, and hurried to the door. “Yep! Bye, Carmen!”
“Oh, uh, bye bye! See you at the party!”
See you at the party. Despite her embarrassment, Mirabel mouthed Carmen’s words to herself as she jogged back home. She tasted them on her lips, savoring the way they energized her like coffee. Sweet like arabica. See you at the party.