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Chapter Text

It was such a tiny flame, but it held all the magic of the family. Camilo liked that- the flame was too little to be so important, but it was important anyway. He was little too, at least compared to the twelve-year-olds. Even nine-year-old Luisa was a lot bigger than him. Maybe his Gift would be the most important one ever, the best Gift the candle had ever given someone, the most awesome Gift the Encanto had ever seen - 

“Camilo, are you listening to me?” 

Camilo’s eyes flicked from the candle to Abuela’s face. “Sorry, Abuela.” 

Abuela sighed, shaking her head. But she didn’t look mad, like she usually did when Camilo got distracted. She looked like she wished he would pay attention but understood why he didn’t. “This is important, chiquito .” 

“I know, Abuela.” Camilo swung his legs back and forth. He liked hearing the story of the candle, but it was hard to sit still for so long. The nursery window was open, and he could hear the sounds of the party nearly ready to start. He wanted to go and see what his Gift was already!

“Patience, Cami,” Abuela said with a soft chuckle. “Your door will wait.” 

“But I can’t!” Camilo flopped backwards on the bed. “Is the story almost over?”

“The story is over,” Abuela told him. “I finished while you were staring at the candle.” She nudged him. “Sit up. This part is the most important.” 

Camilo obeyed, trying his hardest to keep his attention on Abuela.

“Tonight, the candle will give you your Gift, mi tesoro. Tonight, you will strengthen our community, strengthen our home, and make your family proud.” 

Camilo leaned into Abuela, feeling her arm wrap around his shoulder. “I can’t wait,” he whispered.

Casita rolled an alarm clock across the floor, bouncing it once or twice. Abuela smiled. “Looks like you don’t have to wait anymore. Come on, the party is starting.”

“Yes!” Camilo flung himself off the bed, only to be caught by Abuela instead of landing in the usual pile of pillows Casita whisked over. 

“You want to go downstairs, in front of all those people, looking like that? Where’s your ruana? And what have you done with your sandals?” 

“I don’t know! Do I have to wear them?”

“Yes.”

“But Abuela!”

Abuela set him down. “Get your ruana. Casita, where are his sandals?” 

They had to wait a moment for Casita to find them. Camilo laughed as Casita’s floorboards pushed each sandal up in turn, making them look as though they were walking all by themselves. He slipped his feet into them as Abuela fussed over his too-big ruana. “Really, it’s slipping off your shoulder, Camilo. We should get you one that fits.” 

“But I like this one,” he protested. 

Abuela sighed. “All right, all right. You’ll grow into it, I suppose. Eventually.” She took his hand and led him to the door, pausing outside of it with a slight frown.

Before Camilo could ask what was going on, Abuela grasped the doorknob and flung the door open.

“Whoa!” Thud. 

Abuela let out a sigh. “Mirabel, what are you doing?”

Mirabel scrambled up from the floor, fumbling for her glasses. She looked sheepish. “Sorry, Abuela. I wanted to hear the story.”

“Leave the eavesdropping to Dolores,” Abuela said, reaching out to adjust Mirabel’s glasses. “Your own ceremony is in just two months. You’ll get your turn then.” 

“Yes, Abuela.” 

Abuela shook her head, a smile on her face, and gently pushed Camilo forward. “Go on, you two. Downstairs.” 

Camilo grinned and darted for Mirabel, grabbing her hand and tugging her down the stairs. Casita turned the stairs smooth under their feet, sending the two five-year-olds careening down a slide. Giggling, they skidded to a stop at the end of the staircase. 

“There you are!” 

“Pepi, I found him!”

A pair of hands grabbed each of them and lifted them up. Camilo scrambled onto his father’s shoulders, waving to Mirabel as Tío Agustín carried her over to where Tía Julieta stood with Isabela and Luisa, Tío Bruno behind her. 

The last Gift ceremony had been four years ago, with Luisa, and Camilo couldn’t remember it. He’d never seen Casita like this. Banners and ribbons and Isabela’s flowers everywhere. Tía Julieta had clearly been busy with the food, because there was so much of it that Camilo wondered how they were going to eat it all. Of course, there were also plenty of guests to help finish it off. Everyone in the Encanto had come! There were Señora Guzmán and her grandson Mariano, and Señor Ortiz, and Father Manuel… 

And there were Mamí and Dolores! Camilo wiggled out of Félix’s arms and dashed to the rest of his family. Pepa immediately wrapped him in a hug. “Oh, my baby! Five years old already!” She was smiling, but there were tears in her eyes and a small cloud forming above her head. 

“I get my Gift today!” Camilo exclaimed happily. 

“I heard,” Dolores answered. “Everyone in town’s been talking about nothing else.”

Camilo gasped. “ Everyone? ”

Dolores reached out and ruffled his curls. “Everyone, hermanito. ” She straightened suddenly, making the little squeak that meant she had heard something important. “Abuela says it’s time.” 

“Pepa and I are so proud of you, Camilo,” Félix told him. “We’ll be at your door, okay?” 

Camilo nodded. 

Casita hadn’t turned the stairs into a slide for Abuela, so she still looked as dignified as ever. Someone beat a drum as she reached the bottom of the staircase, the candle held close to her chest. 

“Fifty years ago,” Abuela began, her voice ringing through the courtyard, “in our darkest moment, this candle blessed us with a miracle. And the greatest honor of our family has been to use our blessings to serve this beloved community. Tonight, we come together once more, as another steps into the light to make us proud.”

Camilo hadn’t been nervous at all before. He was too excited to be scared. The only thing that he was uncertain about was what his Gift would be. 

But as Casita pulled the curtains back and tilted the wall sconces to serve as spotlights, shining on Camilo- just Camilo- in front of the entire Encanto…he was nervous. 

He managed to keep himself from running to the stairs, but just barely. He imagined how Abuela walked- calm, distinguished, proud- and did his best to mimic it.

Make your family proud. 

Camilo knew he was smiling going up the stairs. He couldn’t help it- he’d been waiting for this day since he was old enough to know what happened when a Madrigal turned five. It was actually happening. There was his door, swirly and golden and waiting for him. There were his parents, waiting behind Abuela. Behind him with the guests were Tía Julieta, Tío Agustín, Tío Bruno, and Dolores and the cousins. And in front of him was Abuela and the candle, and-

And whoops , he had missed some of her speech. 

“Will you use your Gift to honor our miracle?” Abuela continued, not seeming to notice that he had gotten distracted again. “Will you serve this community and strengthen our home?” 

Camilo placed his hands on the candle, took a deep breath, and nodded. 

Abuela moved aside in a rustle of skirts, and then there was just Camilo and his door. He stepped up to it, letting the strange golden light fall over his face, wondering for a moment what engraving would form on the door as soon as he opened it. 

Camilo reached for the doorknob, hesitating just a little, and touched his hand to the cold metal. 

For a single second, the golden light glowed brighter.

And then it dimmed, as Camilo’s door began to fade away in a shower of sparkles, melting back into the wall as if it had never been there at all.

Camilo stared at the empty space where it had been just a moment before, trying to understand. Was his Gift being invisible? Was his door invisible too?

But one glance at Abuela’s stricken face told him all he needed to know.

There was no door. 

There was no Gift for him.

The candle flickered- and it wasn’t supposed to do that, it could never go out- and the flame wavered before regaining its strength. Camilo looked from the candle back to Abuela. “Did I do something wrong?” he whispered. 

His voice seemed to shatter the horrified hush that had fallen over the house. Pepa was the first one to get to him, Félix close behind. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong, mijo ,” Pepa assured him, crouching down in front of him. “I…I don’t-“ 

“Maybe the magic works differently for boys, eh?” Félix said. It would have been one of his usual jokes, but he never had such a worried expression when he joked. “Maybe there’s something different we need to do, another day, another time maybe?” 

Camilo looked hopefully at Abuela. 

For a single second, she looked hopeful too. 

But then her face changed , became a little harder, a little colder. She shook her head. “No,” she said quietly, with a glance over at Tío Bruno. “No, I don’t think so.” 

And then Abuela turned away, giving instructions to Julieta and Agustín to send the guests home and telling Isabela and Dolores to start cleaning up. Camilo stayed where he was, standing in front of a blank wall. He kept his head bowed, not wanting to see the shocked, pitying looks on the faces of the townspeople.

He didn’t understand. It had worked for everyone else. Why hadn’t it worked for him? Why was he different? 

Pepa pulled him close, her arm around his shoulders. “Oh, mijo , it’s all right. I- I guess the magic decided that you were so special, all on your own, that you didn’t need a Gift.” 

“ Sí, sí!” Félix broke in. “Look at me! I don’t have a Gift, and neither does your Tío Agustín. And we’re still special. In more ways than one! Just this morning I heard Abuela telling Julieta how extraordinary it was that Agustín manages to get so many bee stings…”

It was meant to make him feel better. It didn’t.

In some ways, it made him feel worse. Especially what Pepa had said- about him being special all on his own. 

What was so special about Camilo Madrigal that he was the only one who didn’t get a Gift?

Camilo stayed there for the rest of the evening. At some point he moved out of the middle of the hallway to sit with his back against where his door had been. His parents had to go and help clean up, but they kept coming back to hug him and try to reassure him that everything would be all right. Dolores stopped by once to whisper a quick “I’m sorry about your Gift” before being called away again. Tía Julieta came upstairs to press a polvorosa into his hand, which he didn’t eat. Even Isabela paused for a moment to slip a bright yellow flower into his hair.  

That one hurt a little. He liked Isabela’s flowers, and she had even made it yellow instead of her usual pink and red, just for him. But seeing how easily she did it, creating a flower with just a touch…it was a stinging reminder that she had a Gift, and he didn’t. He waited until she was gone, and then pulled the flower out of his hair and crumpled it in his hand. 

It didn’t even feel much like a birthday anymore. They could have kept the party going, changed it from a Gift ceremony to just a birthday celebration. But after the door faded, nobody was in the mood for celebrating, least of all Camilo. He was five years old today, and it had been the worst day of his life. 

The noise downstairs faded away gradually as the rest of the family finished cleaning up. Camilo heard people talking, but he didn’t try to focus on what they were saying. He didn’t need to be Dolores to know what- who they were talking about, and he didn’t want to hear it. 

“Time for bed, Camilo.” Abuela had come up at some point. She stood over him, her face solemn and a little stern. She looked so different from the warm, smiling Abuela who had told him the story of their miracle just a few hours ago. Camilo was almost afraid of this Abuela. 

He stood up, resting one hand on the wall where his door had been. He had bounded out of bed that morning excited to see what his new room would look like, excited to sleep all by himself for the first time in his life. 

He had never imagined that he would walk back to the nursery that night, with no door and no Gift. 

There was no miracle for him. 

Camilo made his way back to the nursery alone. Abuela had gone back downstairs- he could hear her calling for Tío Bruno. Aside from that, the house had fallen quiet, everyone else probably in their rooms. Mirabel was a sleeping lump under her covers when Camilo opened the nursery door, so he didn’t bother asking Casita to bring a light. He kicked off his sandals and pulled off his ruana, exchanging his everyday clothes for his night clothes. He felt so strangely tired without really being tired, like he was just tired of feeling so much. He wanted the sadness to go away. He wanted to be as happy as he had been that morning. He wanted- he wanted-

He wanted a Gift. And he didn’t get one.

Camilo climbed into bed, hoping he would fall asleep fast just so he could have a little break from all the feelings. He tried to sleep, he really did. He heard the nursery door open, the hushed voices of his parents outside. They must have assumed he was already asleep, since they didn’t come in to tell him goodnight like they usually did. 

As soon as the door closed, he heard a light thump echoed by footsteps.

“Milo? I know you’re not really asleep.” Mirabel’s small voice came from near his shoulder. “Papí said I should leave you alone tonight, and that I had to wait until tomorrow to hug you. But- but I think you need a hug tonight.” 

Mirabel didn’t even wait for him to answer. She climbed over him and flopped down on the other side of his bed, half next to him, half on top of him, pushing one of her arms underneath him in a slightly awkward lying-down hug. 

That was all it took. Camilo buried his face in Mirabel’s shoulder, crying so hard his whole body shook. She let him do it, stroking his hair and holding him close as he sobbed. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. 

Tía Julieta had a Gift. Tío Bruno had a Gift. Mamí had a Gift. Isabela, Dolores, and Luisa all had Gifts. Camilo was the only one who didn’t get a Gift, and he didn’t know why. He wasn’t different in some way, he was just like the rest of the Madrigals- except he wasn’t, anymore. He didn’t have a Gift. Pepa had been wrong when she told him that he must be so special that he didn’t need a Gift. 

What was so special about Camilo Madrigal?

Nothing.

Chapter Text

Things changed after Camilo’s ceremony. Not all at once, but slowly, like everyone was learning how to deal with one of the Madrigals not having a Gift. People had to adjust to that, and it took time before they figured out exactly how to do it. Camilo himself was still coming to terms with it- he spent the first few days crying more than anything else. After that, he simply stayed in the nursery as much as possible, not doing much of anything- just sitting on his bed. It took about two weeks for him to start venturing out into Casita again, and once he did, he saw how the rest of the Madrigals had changed.

Abuela was the one who changed most dramatically, and her change came the quickest, almost the night of the ceremony. Before, she had been happy and warm, a calm, solid presence that Camilo could rely on. But with the absence of his Gift, she became…cold. Now when she looked at him, it was usually with a stony, stern expression instead of a soft smile. Camilo managed to catch a few times when the sternness slipped and gave way to a sadness he didn’t know Abuela could have. He knew how important the magic was to her, and he might have broken it. What if nobody ever got a Gift ever again, all because of him? 

Camilo’s parents had changed too. Félix joked more, trying to cheer Camilo up, especially at meals when the whole family was together. Sometimes it worked, but more often than not Abuela would give her son-in-law a look that meant he should be more serious, and then Camilo would feel bad all over again for getting his papí in trouble. Pepa, on the other hand, didn’t seem to know what to do. Camilo heard Tía Julieta say that his mamí was trying her best, but she didn’t know how to handle the situation. She spent the first week with a cloud over her head, but she also kept trying to comfort Camilo. She came to the nursery more than anyone else, giving him a hug or bringing up a treat from Tía Julieta or whispering reassurances Camilo knew she didn’t really believe. In such a big family, it was hard to keep things secret, and Camilo learned soon enough that Pepa often cried at night over the fact that he had no Gift, while Félix tried to comfort her. His mamí cried herself to sleep because of Camilo. 

Tía Julieta didn’t change very much. Tía Julieta had taken to slipping him extra sweets and such, until Abuela found out and made her stop on the grounds that she needed to save her special food for the townspeople. But aside from that, she stayed pretty much the same. The only slight difference was that she was still a little softer with him than she had been. She seemed to be trying to take over for Pepa when she couldn’t handle it. Tía Julieta had always done that, but now it became especially apparent. When the nursery door opened, if it wasn’t Camilo’s mamí outside, it was Tía Julieta. 

Isabela- well, Camilo didn’t really know what had happened to Isabela. Almost overnight she had gotten closer to Abuela. But she had also become a little bit mean. She flounced around growing flowers wherever she could put them, and she stopped wearing her hair in pigtails and let it hang loose down her back. She wouldn’t play anything too loud or rough, saying it would ruin her dress or muss her hair. Abuela smiled at Isabela more than anyone else, and she liked to talk about how grown-up Isabela was becoming, how well Isabela did in everything she tried, how perfect Isabela was. Camilo’s heart hurt a little bit more with every flower his oldest cousin grew. 

Dolores had just gotten busy. When she had spare time, she was her old self again. But she barely had any spare time, always listening for some way to help in town. She got quieter, too, always listening and never talking. Everyone was busy- Abuela was having them use their Gifts more to make up for Camilo’s lack of one. But it seemed to affect Dolores the most.

And Luisa. It also affected Luisa. She was still happy to play with Camilo and Mirabel when she had time, but she rarely had time anymore. She did everything anyone could possibly ask her to do, and then went to find more things to carry or move or break. She was barely ever home, always in the town doing things for people. Camilo missed her. 

And then there was Tío Bruno. Camilo didn’t know how Tío Bruno had changed. All he knew was that Tío Bruno was gone. 

They had found out the day after his failed ceremony. No one had been too worried- Tío Bruno had a habit of disappearing for awhile sometimes. But this time he didn’t come back . Camilo hid in the nursery, clinging to Mirabel and trying not to hear Abuela’s ranting and crying from downstairs. When he finally ventured out of the nursery, though, Abuela had forbidden the entire family from talking about Bruno. Camilo guessed that that was part of the reason she’d become a little colder- he didn’t have a Gift, and Bruno was gone, and Abuela was sad about both. 

Mirabel was the only one who didn’t change. She stuck to Camilo’s side the way she always had. She stopped sleeping in her own bed for the most part, waiting until their parents wished them goodnight and shut the door before climbing in with Camilo. They spent hours whispering to each other, playing games they made up, talking about the day’s events. Mirabel distracted Camilo from the fact that he had no Gift, and as her own ceremony drew closer, he distracted her from the possibility that she wouldn’t get one, either- no matter how fervently she insisted that if he couldn’t have a Gift, then she didn’t want a Gift, either. 

Camilo changed too. He tried to avoid Abuela, which was hard, and when he couldn’t avoid her, he tried to be as quiet and unnoticeable as he could. Camilo was used to being loud and boisterous and dramatic, running through the house playing ball with Casita and Mirabel, laughing and shouting and chattering a mile a minute with his favorite cousin. He thought it would be hard to change that, but it was actually easier than he thought- he didn’t really feel like running and jumping and being loud anymore. He still played with Mirabel, but they usually played in the nursery instead of the more open areas of Casita. The few times he did play outside of the nursery, Abuela usually admonished him for being in the way. He was in the way a lot more now, since he wasn’t helping the family or the Encanto- he couldn’t help if he didn’t have a Gift. So he did his best to keep out from underfoot. 

But he was still only five. He couldn’t stay in the nursery all the time. So Mirabel came up with a game. “We’re rats,” she told Camilo one day, her eyes shining with excitement. “We live in the nursery because it’s safe. We can go out and play, but nobody can see us. So when we hear someone coming, we have to get back to the nursery as quick as we can.” 

And that was what they did. Camilo almost forgot the real reason they were trying to keep out of the way. It was too much fun scrambling for hiding places when they heard footsteps on the tiles. Sometimes Casita helped them out, opening up spaces for them to hide or alerting them to a person approaching. After the first injury incident (Mirabel had hit her head against the legs of the kitchen table as she dove underneath it) they declared Tía Julieta to be a friendly mouse who would help them if they got hurt. The kitchen was declared a safe zone like the nursery, as long as only Tía Julieta was there.

And of course after that they had to make the rest of the family animals, too. Mirabel decided that Dolores was a cat after she caught them for the sixth time- “cats hear everything,” she said, “and so does Dolores.” Dolores was sometimes friendly and sometimes not- it all depended on how Mirabel and Camilo felt. 

Luisa found out about the game and begged to be allowed to play. When she had time, she joined them as another rat. But when she didn’t have time to play, she was a donkey. They could trust Luisa, but they had to be careful in case she accidentally stepped on them (which, of course, led to Luisa taking any opportunity she got to flop down on top of her smaller cousin and sister until they managed to wiggle out from underneath her.) 

Tío Agustín, Mirabel decided, was a bear, because of all the bee stings he got. “Those are from when he tries to take their honey,” she told Camilo. “The bees always sting him, but he keeps trying anyway.” 

Isabela was hard to choose for. They almost got into a fight over what animal she should be, before finally deciding that she was a jaguar. “Watch out for her,” Mirabel warned Camilo the day after they picked her role. “She’ll eat us if she catches us.” 

Camilo got to choose for his parents, though Mirabel had plenty of ideas. Eventually he decided on a capuchin monkey for Pepa and a tamarin for Félix. Mirabel laughed for five minutes straight when he told her what he had picked. “Can Tío Félix be one of the ones with the fluff on their heads?” she said through giggles. “That way it matches his hair!” She flopped backwards on her bed, laughing so hard that Dolores popped her head in to make sure she was okay. 

And then there was Abuela. She was the only one who wasn’t an animal. “She owns the house we live in,” Camilo decided after a particularly close call, huddled under the staircase with Mirabel. “If she sees us, she’ll chase us away!” 

Mirabel nodded, beaming. Then, suddenly, her face turned to a frown. “Wait. So Abuela is a person, and Tío Félix is a tamarin, and Mami’s a mouse, and Papí’s a bear, and Tía Pepa is a monkey, and Luisa is a donkey, and Isabela’s a jaguar, and Dolores is a cat? Why does Abuela have all those animals in her house?”

Camilo had never thought about that. “You’re right,” he said, giggling. “Maybe this Abuela lives in the jungle.” 

Both of them burst out laughing at the idea of proper, dignified Abuela living in the jungle with a bunch of animals. Camilo laughed until his sides hurt, imagining Abuela petting Jaguar-Isabela with Monkey-Pepa sitting on her shoulder and Cat-Dolores rubbing against her legs. 

Mirabel suddenly stopped laughing, staring at Camilo like his head had shrunk. “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?” 

Mirabel made a funny little sigh and scooted closer to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. “You’re laughing again,” she said. “You haven’t laughed since…well, you know.” 

“Oh,” Camilo said quietly. 

“I like it when you laugh,” Mirabel told him. “If you’re laughing, then it means you’re okay. And if you’re okay, then everything’s okay.”

“I still don’t have a Gift.” 

“But you’re laughing anyway,” Mirabel pointed out. “You can still be happy without a Gift. And so can I.”

“Mirabel, no. I want you to get a Gift next week. I-I don’t want Abuela to be mad at you, too.” 

“I don’t care if she gets mad. If you can’t have a Gift, I don’t want one. I want to stay in the nursery and play with you.”

“We can still play when you get your Gift,” Camilo pointed out. “You’ll just be a little bit busier helping the Encanto.” 

“I’d rather help you, primo.” Mirabel yawned and slid off his shoulder, plopping down on the floor. “No more Gifts talk. We’re rats, and we’re hiding from Abuela.” Her eyes had started to drift closed. 

Camilo sighed, feeling tired himself. He curled up next to his cousin, letting her flop her arm over him like she usually did when they slept. He heard Casita’s tiles rattling, and then something warm fell over top of them. “Thanks, Casita,” he mumbled, tucking a corner of the blanket over his feet. 

The two youngest Madrigals stayed there for the next few hours, curled up like a pair of puppies under the staircase. Neither of them heard their parents calling their names in increasingly frantic voices. Abuela was upset when they were finally found, angrily going on about how they had a whole room to play in and how there was no need for them to have worried the adults so much. But Camilo and Mirabel didn’t hear a word of it. Both of them slept right through her lecture, not even waking up when their mothers gently pulled them apart and carried them upstairs to the nursery. 

Camilo did wake up once that night, in his own bed instead of curled under the staircase. For a moment, he was scared, confused and disoriented. But then he heard Mirabel’s small footsteps on Casita’s floorboards, and felt her climb up onto his bed. She clambered over him and into her usual spot, falling fast asleep immediately with a soft sigh. 

And just her being there made everything okay again.

Chapter Text

It was the voices that drew Camilo to his mother’s room. He had been searching for Mirabel- he hadn’t seen her since breakfast, which was unusual. True, she had been busy lately with the preparations for her Gift ceremony, but she usually wasn’t that busy. He had looked everywhere he could think of, and had already gotten scolded twice for being in the way. He raised a hand to knock on the door.

“Ow! Tía!” 

“Sorry, sorry. I just have to get this last bit pinned.” 

“We don’t want to pin the dress to her , Pepa.”

Camilo sighed, recognizing the voices of Mirabel, his mother, and Abuela. They sounded like they were working on Mirabel’s ceremony dress. Abuela always insisted on a new outfit for Gift ceremonies- their church and party outfits wouldn’t do. It had to be something new. And from the sound of it, Mirabel would be busy getting the finishing touches put on her new dress for quite awhile. 

Camilo gave the door one last glance, wondering if he should knock anyway. Maybe he could help? 

“Don’t even think about it.”

Camilo yelped, whirling around to find Isabela standing behind him. A huge bouquet of brightly colored flowers obscured her from the arms up. She set it down, revealing what Camilo and Mirabel called her “big sister face.” The big sister face did not look happy.

“There’s already three girls in there,” Isabela said sternly. “Gift ceremonies are the start of growing up. And the last thing Mirabel needs is a little boy making a mess of hers.” 

Camilo cringed. Why had Isabela gotten so mean? He ignored the tiny voice that whispered it was because of him, focusing instead on the flowers at Isabela’s feet. “Those don’t look like yours.” 

Isabela huffed, bending down to pick up the colorful bouquet. She brushed off the vibrant petals. “That’s because they’re not. Someone in town decided Mirabel needed…these instead of my roses and hydrangeas and bougainvillea. Look at them! They’re yellow. ” 

“What’s wrong with yellow?” Camilo asked, running his finger along the edge of his extremely yellow ruana. At least now he knew why Isabela was so touchy today. 

“Nothing’s wrong with yellow. But yellow flowers ? Abuela wants things to be perfect. And perfect flowers are not yellow, and orange, and blue, and- is that green?” Isabela hefted her flowers and stalked off in the direction of the nursery, muttering to herself. 

Camilo promptly decided to avoid the nursery for a bit until he was sure Isabela had gone. 

Knowing Abuela would be busy in Pepa’s room for awhile, he ventured downstairs, pausing at the bottom of the staircase to look around. Mirabel’s ceremony was in three days, but the house had already started to look different. Supplies filled the courtyard- barrels of aguardiente for the grownups to drink, a pile of colorful streamers that would go on the ceilings, crates of food that Tía Julieta was already busy setting up, if the sounds from the kitchen were anything to go by. It was…a lot. 

It seemed like a lot more than what had happened for his ceremony. Abuela had gone above and beyond, trying to reassure the townspeople of the magic’s strength. Camilo couldn’t imagine what would happen if Mirabel didn’t get a Gift, either- if he really had broken the magic. Abuela would be devastated. Everyone would be upset.

And it would be all his fault. 

Giggling interrupted his thoughts, and he jumped off the last step of the staircase and followed the sound. It turned out to be Luisa and Dolores, hard at work with paper and colored pencils. 

“What are you doing?” Camilo asked, a little shyly. 

“We’re making a banner to hang over Mirabel’s door,” Luisa said, beaming.

Dolores nodded and held out a colored pencil. “Want to help?”

Camilo stared at her. “ Can I?”

In answer, Luisa grabbed the edge of his ruana and tugged him down next to her, pressing a bright yellow pencil into his hand.

The three days until the ceremony passed both too quickly and too slowly for Camilo. He barely saw Mirabel. His cousin made appearances at meals, and then one of the grownups rushed her away for one reason or another. The only time she and Camilo got together was at night, when they whispered to each other after they were supposed to be asleep.

Mirabel alternated- drastically- between several moods. Sometimes she was giddy and giggling with excitement, other times she was quiet and nervous. Once she had sobbed into Camilo’s nightshirt, declaring passionately that she didn’t want a Gift if he couldn’t have one and that nobody could make her open her door, ever. 

It had taken a lot to convince her that he would be all right when she got her Gift. It had taken a lot out of him. He wanted nothing more than to say yes, don’t open the door, stay in the nursery with me forever. But it wouldn’t be fair to her. Mirabel, out of all of them, was the one who should have a Gift. She had helped Camilo get through not having one. She was the only one who still looked at him like she had before his awful ceremony. She deserved a Gift. Camilo would blow the stupid candle out himself if it didn’t give Mirabel a Gift. He couldn’t bear to think of Mirabel putting her hand on the doorknob and it fading away to ash. He couldn’t bear to think of her trying to stay happy about it, trying to convince him that this was what she wanted. 

Mostly, he couldn’t bear to think of Abuela looking at sweet, cheerful Mirabel the way she looked at him. 

The day of the ceremony dawned sunny and bright and very, very busy. People hurried back and forth absolutely everywhere . Abuela had her hands full calling out orders and managing- well, everything, from overseeing the decorations to sending Luisa for last-minute supplies to making sure Tía Julieta finished all the food to praising Isabela’s perfect, and definitely not yellow, flowers (the other bouquet had been set in a corner, visible if you looked but not interfering with the rest of the flowers.) Camilo did his absolute best to stay out of the way, but even with his hardest effort he was still reprimanded four times for being underfoot. The fourth one came from Isabela about an hour before the ceremony was supposed to start, and Camilo had had enough. He darted upstairs, where less people would be, and headed for the nursery.

The nursery was occupied. Camilo heard Abuela’s gentle, warm voice through the door, followed by Mirabel’s. “This is where our magic comes from?”

“Mm-hmm,” Abuela said. “This candle holds the miracle given to our family.”

“How did we get a miracle?” Mirabel asked. 

Camilo had heard the story before, of course. But he listened anyway, his heart aching at the memories of his own disastrous ceremony. 

“Long ago, when my three babies had just been born, your Abuelo Pedro and I were forced to flee our home. And though many joined us, hoping to find a new home, we could not escape the dangers and your abuelo was lost. But in our darkest moment, we were given a miracle. The candle became a magical flame that could never go out. And it blessed us with a refuge in which to live. A place of wonder.”

“An Encanto,” Mirabel blurted.

Abuela chuckled warmly. “An Encanto. The miracle grew. And our house, our Casita itself came alive to shelter us. When my children came of age, the miracle blessed each with a magic Gift to help us. And when their children came of age…

“They got magic, too,” Mirabel finished. “Um…most of them.”

“That’s right,” Abuela told her after a slightly awkward pause. “And together, our family’s Gifts have made our new home a paradise. Tonight, this candle will give you your Gift, mi vida. Strengthen our community, strengthen our home. Make your family proud.”

“Make my family proud,” Mirabel repeated. 

A firework went off above the house. Camilo jumped at the loud noise, glancing up at the darkened sky, before turning back to the nursery door.

“What do you think my Gift will be?” Mirabel asked. Their voices were getting closer. Camilo scampered back, hoping to make it look like he had just happened to be passing by. 

“You are a wonder, Mirabel Madrigal,” he heard Abuela tell his prima . “Whatever Gift awaits will be just as special as you.”

The door opened, and the two of them stepped out. Mirabel had a pale pink bow tied in her hair, and her brand-new white dress was covered in lace and embroidery and two wide ruffles. She looked…well, magical. 

“Ah, Camilo, there you are,” Abuela said, finally catching sight of him. “Mirabel, go downstairs, mi vida. Your parents are waiting.” 

Mirabel gave Camilo a wave and bounced down the stairs. “Careful with your dress!” Abuela called after her.

Camilo moved to follow her down the stairs, but Abuela’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks. “Camilo.” 

“Yes, Abuela?“

“You’re ready for the ceremony?” 

“Um…yes.”

Abuela sighed. “Come inside and close the door, Camilo.” 

He obeyed, a cold knot of worry settling at the base of his stomach. She knows I was eavesdropping. 

“You…know how the town talks,” Abuela began. “They tend to exaggerate things.”

Camilo barely managed to hold back from telling her that actually, he didn’t know, because he didn’t usually go into town- he was too little to be of any use without a Gift. But he would get into serious trouble if he backtalked Abuela like that, so he just nodded. 

“Well, they have developed an…unfavorable view of…the name we do not speak,” Abuela continued. 

Camilo’s brow furrowed, trying to figure out where this was going. Abuela never brought up Tío Bruno. 

“The townsfolk consider…him to be bad luck. And on a day like this, they don’t need any reminders of the recent bad luck we’ve had in the family.” 

Camilo…really didn’t know how to respond to that. He was mostly just confused. Where was Abuela taking this conversation? 

She stood up, closing her eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, they were stony and cold. Camilo shivered. 

“When he used his Gift, he was strict about it. He had a ritual, a practiced routine…a costume. That ruana of his. That is what the townspeople associate with him. I will not have them reminded of him today.” Abuela drew herself up to her full height. “Camilo, I don’t want you wearing that ruana tonight.”

“What?” It burst out of him before he could stop it. Instinctively, he drew his ruana closer around him. He loved his ruana! He wore it every day , why couldn’t he wear it tonight? Just because Tío Bruno used to wear one? Half the people in town wore them, too! 

“Do not argue with me, Camilo. Tonight must go perfectly. Mirabel must get a Gift, she must prove that the magic is strong. And the townspeople must not be reminded of past…events.” 

Oh. Camilo understood now. It wasn’t his ruana that was the problem at all. It was the fact that he was the one wearing it- the one Madrigal without a Gift. Bad luck, just like Tío Bruno.

Bad luck, the both of them. 

“Do you understand, Camilo?”

Abuela was watching him carefully. Camilo swallowed hard. “ Sí , Abuela,” he answered, and his voice only shook a little. His hands shook, too, as he pulled his ruana over his head, instantly missing the feeling of the wool billowing around him. 

He moved to lay it on his bed, but Abuela held up a hand. “You may as well put that away,” she said. 

Camilo opened his mouth to ask why, but the look in her eyes gave him his answer. Silently, he turned and went to the dresser. Casita opened the drawer for him- the bottom drawer, where he and Mirabel kept clothes they didn’t wear very often or at all. He felt sick adding his beloved ruana to the pile. 

Abuela took his arm, gently guiding him to the nursery door. “I don’t know what we’ll do if she doesn’t get a Gift,” she mumbled, half to herself. 

Camilo stared at her, wide-eyed. Abuela- strong, dignified Abuela- was afraid. 

He slipped downstairs faster than she did, finding his parents and Dolores in the already-large crowd of people. He ducked in under his father’s elbow. 

“There you are,” Pepa said in a hushed voice, turning to him. She frowned. “Where’s your ruana?”

Camilo fidgeted. “Abuela said I couldn’t wear it anymore. Because of…”

“Oh,” Pepa replied, sounding conflicted.

And then Abuela started her speech, and the lights fell on Mirabel, and the tension was thick enough to suffocate someone. Mirabel didn’t look too nervous, but she was definitely a little nervous. She glanced back at Camilo once, giving him the tiniest smile. 

Abuela held the candle for Mirabel, saying the same words she had said last time. “Will you use your Gift to honor our miracle? Will you serve this community and strengthen our home?”

Mirabel’s curls bobbed as she nodded. Abuela stepped out of the way, and Mirabel faced the swirling golden light that would- hopefully- become her door. 

Tía Julieta and Tío Agustín held their breaths.

Abuela’s face and figure tensed with anticipation.

Mirabel stepped forward, hesitated, and laid her hand on the doorknob.

The door glowed, its magic overflowing to surround Mirabel. 

And Camilo’s heart swelled with love and pride- and broke, too. 

Chapter Text

When Camilo finally got a chance to look into Mirabel’s room, the first thing he saw was a rainbow. 

Not a literal one, of course- that was his mamá’s department, when she was happy enough. But the room was literally covered in every color imaginable, long threads of it hanging down from the walls-

It actually was thread, he realized when he was able to push past a knot of townspeople and get a closer look at it. Thread and ribbon and yarn, painting Mirabel’s walls in vibrant stripes. The floor was made of patchwork cloth, practically every texture and type and color possible. A bed stood in the corner, canopied with bright blue curtains the color of her favorite skirt- blank canvases, just waiting for whatever embroidery she chose to put on them. A couple of dress forms sat in the other corner- Mirabel’s blue skirt and white blouse already waited on one of them, ready for her to go crazy with her needle and all this thread.

Camilo knew how much his cousin loved to make things. She wasn’t amazing at it yet- she was only five, so Tía Julieta didn’t let her use anything but blunted needles that were useless for most details- but she was better than other five-year-olds would have been. She could embroider this whole room if she wanted to. 

But what was her Gift? She was already good at sewing. That couldn’t have been it. 

Camilo darted back to the door, squeezing between townspeople. The new carving still glittered gold in the grooves. 

It was Mirabel, plain as day, her name written at the top in the same curvy, Abuela’s-handwriting script as on the rest of the doors. She wore her glasses and her favorite skirt and her biggest smile. She looked a little older in the carving, but it was the same Mirabel he knew, wild curls and all. Her hands were lifted, and in one was what looked like a broken plate. In the other hand, she held a threaded needle, the thread pooling around her feet. 

“Milo!” He turned at Mirabel’s screech, just in time to catch an armful of ecstatic flying cousin. The two of them fell backwards, Casita catching them with the edge of a carpet and lowering them gently to the floor. 

Mirabel was panting, almost wild-eyed with excitement. “Did you see it? Did you see inside? It’s so pretty, even Isa said it was pretty! And I can sew with real needles now, Mamí said I could and there’s drawers and drawers full of ‘em! I can fix things! That’s my Gift!” 

Of course. Of course it was. How could it be anything else for her? Mirabel, who tried her best to cheer up anyone who was upset or hurt. Mirabel, who crawled into bed with him every night so he wouldn’t feel lonely. Mirabel, who didn’t always know the right thing to say but tried anyway. 

Mirabel, who fixed broken things. 

Camilo grinned at her. “Your room’s lots prettier than Isa’s,” he told her. “Hers has too much pink. Yours has everything.”

“I know! It’s got all the colors in the whole wide world! Red and blue and yellow and-“ she stopped short, staring at him. “Where’s your ruana?” 

Camilo flinched. He’d almost forgotten about that. 

Mirabel plunged ahead, thankfully not noticing the look on his face. “Did you tear it? I can fix it! I haven’t fixed anything yet, it can be the first thing I fix! Where is it?”

“Um…I put it away,” Camilo answered, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Abuela…she said I couldn’t wear it anymore.” 

Mirabel’s mouth opened in a round, indignant O. “She what? Why?” 

Camilo hung his head. “Bad luck.” 

Mirabel planted her hands on her hips. She looked like an angry kitten, tiny and puffed up with fury. “The ruana, or you?” she demanded. “I don’t know why Abuela’s like that! I’m gonna go find her and tell her to stop being mean. Abuela!” 

And with that, she was gone, threading her way easily back through the crowd of people. Camilo watched her leave, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. Having a Gift hadn’t changed Mirabel at all…much. She was still willing to stand up for him. 

He hoped that wouldn’t change in the days ahead. But he didn’t want to spend the whole night thinking about that- and he definitely doesn’t want to think about his own lack of a Gift. It was a party, after all! Not even being the only Madrigal with no Gift could stop him from having fun tonight- both for Mirabel’s sake, and his own.

The rest of the evening went pretty well, all things considered. Camilo managed to make himself forget about- well, everything, focusing only on being happy for his prima and enjoying the party. He’d never seen such a celebration before, and the people in the Encanto partied a lot. Even birthdays and holidays didn’t compare to this. It was noisy, and loud, and bright, and…and perfect. Everyone seemed relieved and happy- not an upset face to be found. All the tension had bled out of the room as soon as Mirabel’s door had glowed instead of fading. Now, it was like no Gift ceremony had ever gone wrong at all. 

Camilo stuffed himself with food, taking advantage of the fact that the adults were all occupied with admiring Mirabel’s room or talking with her or Abuela or Tía Julieta. He managed to sneak plenty of desserts, ducking under the table twice to give a treat or two to Dolores, who hid under there with her hands pressed over her ears whenever someone got a little too enthusiastic with the drums or a particularly loud firework boomed overhead. 

He didn’t have another chance to talk to Mirabel. She seemed to have forgotten to be mad at Abuela, and hovered constantly by her side- although maybe she didn’t have a choice about that. The adults surrounded the two of them, chattering away. Camilo hung back, staying on the edges of the crowd where he was less likely to be noticed. But every so often, he heard Mirabel’s peal of laughter above the noise. 

He took the time to explore a little more of Mirabel’s new room. The table opposite her bed was bursting with sewing supplies. A sewing machine, scissors, a pincushion shaped like a butterfly, and as she had mentioned, drawers and drawers of needles. He gave an experimental tug to one of the strands of thread hanging on the wall- as much as he pulled, it kept going. Infinite thread for her projects, and as soon as he let go, it shot back up into the wall until it covered just the space it had before. “Nice job, Casita,” he whispered. Mirabel was going to love this. They’d be lucky to see her at meals- she’d be in here embroidering her heart out all the time. 

The room was big , a lot bigger than the nursery and way bigger than it looked from the outside. Camilo really wanted to kick off his sandals and let his feet sink into the cloth floor- he happened to be standing on a patch of fleecy orange fabric. He decided not to risk Abuela seeing him and instead crouched down to press his hands against it instead.

Whoa. Why had Casita even put in a bed? You could just flop down on the floor and take a nap anywhere. Mirabel’s new room was definitely the coziest one in the Encanto. 

He wondered when she would start using her Gift to help the Encanto. She’d gotten a useful one. She could fix anything! But maybe Abuela would let her get used to it for awhile before she had to start using it like the rest of the family did. He didn’t know how that worked- he hadn’t been born during the last successful Gift ceremony. 

Camilo decided that Dolores would know. She knew everything. But as he turned around to go and look for her, he almost ran straight into Isabela. 

She huffed and brushed off her dress- which was even nicer than the ones she usually wore. She can actually stand wearing that? He would be happy Never wearing something so fancy. But Isa didn’t seem to mind. She wore fancy dresses every day. Which meant on nights like this one, she wore extra fancy dresses. To Camilo, that meant extra uncomfortable. 

Isabela seemed to be playing the role of parent tonight, with the adults otherwise occupied. She had already collected Dolores, who looked relieved to be away from the noise, and Luisa, who looked slightly disappointed that the party was over for her but also too tired to complain about it. 

“Time for bed, Camilo,” Isabela ordered.

“Who says?” he challenged her. 

“Your mamí, your papí, my parents, and Abuela,” she retorted, counting them off on her fingers. “Also Señora Guzmán said that the little ones- except for Mirabel, of course- should probably go to bed. You’re five. You count.” 

“You’re twelve. So do you,” Camilo shot back. “And why do we have to listen to Señora Guzmán? She’s not our parents.” 

Isabela shrugged. “Mamá said Dolores and I could stay up longer if we wanted.”

“I don’t,” Dolores added. “I like Mirabel’s room, but I want mine.” 

“Well, I’m staying up.” Isabela folded her arms, looking down at Camilo with an expression that was probably supposed to be stern but looked mostly like she had something stuck in her eye and her throat at the same time. “You, however, are going to bed.” 

Camilo, naturally, stuck his tongue out at her, then dodged when she lunged for him. He took off for the hallway, not looking back to see what had happened to Isabela.

He hoped she had landed face-first in the obleas.

The party noises faded as he got to the nursery, checking over his shoulder once to make sure Isabela wasn’t chasing him. Casita opened the door for him. 

But Camilo didn’t go inside. 

It suddenly looked so dark and lonely in there. Mirabel’s bed had been stripped that morning- the only thing on it now was a box with the last of her stuff. She would be sleeping in her new room tonight. And Camilo would be all alone. 

He tried, he tried as hard as he could , to pretend it was all right. With Mirabel gone, it would be like the nursery was his own magic room! He could play by himself now, and he could make up his own games, and he didn’t have to share his bed with her anymore.

But…he didn’t want any of that. 

Casita gently urged him forward, whisking over a candle and beckoning him into the room. Camilo laughed a little. “Thanks, Casita,” he said. “But it’s not the dark that’s the problem.” 

He went inside anyway.  

It was like he was seeing the nursery with new eyes. It had always seemed so bright and cheery before. But now- the faded green paint on the walls, the worn rug, the simple walls that weren’t magical at all- without Mirabel, there wasn’t anything special in the nursery at all. They’d even packed up the little drawings she’d done and tacked all over the walls. Only Camilo’s were left, and suddenly he hated them. 

He would have torn them down and ripped them to shreds. But he didn’t have the energy. Without any warning, he really was tired. Tired physically and just…tired. Tired of being the only one without a Gift. Tired of being different. Tired of people changing and leaving and never staying the way they were. Tired of change. 

Everything kept changing, and it wouldn’t stop, and one minute Camilo was left behind in the dust and the next he was being shoved ahead too fast, and who he was had gotten lost somewhere along the way. 

There was nothing left of him. He was just… tired. He didn’t even have the energy to cry himself to sleep. He just curled up- alone, for the first time in a long time- and lay there, trying not to think about anything, until he fell asleep. 

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