Chapter Text
“I told you,” Isabela says and smiles. Her fingers are gentle when she secures the flower behind Dolores’ ear. “Red is your color.”
It’s during moments like these that Dolores wishes she had either a mirror or Camilo to show her how she looks. Instead, she has to trust the confident glint in Isabela’s eyes. She nods. “Gracias.”
Isabela snaps her fingers, and a yellow begonia appears in her hand. “Or maybe yellow.”
When she places it between Dolores’ curls, several more appear, dotting her entire hair.
“You look great.”
“So – yellow?” Dolores tries and receives a nod. She will remember this later. Isabela always looks perfect, and so any advice from her is valuable.
“Isa is so good with colors.” You can see the way Luisa makes sure to be careful as she pats her sister’s back. Even now, she is still reminded of her strength every now and then. “You’re still going to help me with my new shirt, right?”
“The blue one?” Dolores asks, watching the white one Luisa is currently wearing. Now when she’s paying attention, she notices how her prima keeps pulling at the collar like it’s choking her.
“No, I grew out of that one too.” Luisa lets out a sad sigh. Somehow, it turns into a smile next. “I just can’t hold these two back.” She flexes her biceps, and the muscles seem to grow every day.
Isabela tilts her head, and her stare has an intensity that almost makes Dolores cover. But Isabela’s frown is thoughtful and focused, and Dolores knows to be a good canvas. “I think you should try something darker next,” Isabela says and moves the finger from her lip to create a new flower. Then another. And another.
When none of them gains her a proper response from Dolores, Isabela notices the distracted look on her prima’s face. She knows what it means. “What? What are they doing?”
Dolores doesn’t answer fast enough, and Isabela marches towards the window where the shutters open for her. “Hey!” she calls to the outside where Mirabel and Camilo freeze on the spot. “Are you breaking two rules at once?”
At least, it has to be Camilo. There is no reason for Mamá to be sneaking around next to Mirabel, the two of them obviously leaving Casita’s gardens to go to the town they’d been told to stay away from.
Just for tonight. Just to be precarious. It’s the same reason Camilo has been told not to use his Gift tonight. That, and to take pity on Dolores, Isabela, and Luisa who have been charged with babysitting-duty.
As Dolores joins Isabela in the window, Camilo turns back into himself. “No,” he says and doesn’t even seem ashamed about it. “I’m the only one who can shapeshift, so Mirabel-“
Dolores doesn’t humor him by letting him ramble. “Camilo,” she says and points to her ear.
Next to her, Isabela crosses her arms. “That’s right. We’re listening. Mamá said to stay away from town today. Go inside and play.”
Mirabel mirrors Camilo’s pouting face. “But we’re not –“
The two six-year-olds yelp as the bricks beneath them move, pulling them back inside of the house through the door that opens for them.
Isabela walks out to meet them in the courtyard just in time for the door to slam shut. “You leave the town alone tonight,” she says firmly. “And Camilo, don’t make things harder for your sister.”
Camilo leans closer to Mirabel. “She’s pretending to be Abuela,” he whispers, and Dolores hears it clearly. “But I could do it better, just see –“
“Camilo.” Dolores doesn’t raise her voice. She never does. She knows Camilo will recognize the firmness of her correction.
He does, but it doesn’t work. Dolores frowns as her hermano crosses his small arms and looks up at them in defiance. Like he’d done with Mamá yesterday. And Papá the day before. It’s been a long bad week, even before the current unrest in the Encanto.
Mirabel – and Dolores is silently grateful – grabs Camilo’s arm and drags him away, muttering about how they can just play inside of the Casita, that this is better, actually, because they can play with Casita –
Isabela leads the older girls back to her room. Flower petals stick to Dolores’ shoes as she sinks into a purple fainting couch.
Next to her, Isabela miracles two swings into existence, flowers sprouting on the vines that connect them to the ceiling.
Luisa starts to swing back and forth while Isabela sits perfectly still. “Is it just me, or is Camilo in a mood?”
Dolores nods. “He is being difficult.” That’s how Mamá had put it yesterday. There’d been clouds all week because of it. Mainly because of worry, Dolores thinks. Camilo usually never upsets Mamá on purpose. He knows about rain and thunder and even worse – snow.
“Why?” Isabela asks, and Dolores has to shrug. If only Camilo would talk about it, she would hear.
“But he’s not –“ Luisa comes to a stop, grimacing as she tries to find the right words. “I mean, do we know why? He’s not sad, right?”
“From what I’ve heard? No.”
“I’d expect Mirabel to be mad,” Luisa says quietly. “With the whole – well, you know. Mad is better than sad, right?”
“If it was me,” Isabela cuts in, “I think I would have died from the shame of it all.”
There’s a heavy silence after that, and Dolores could appreciate it was it not for the awkwardness. No one likes to talk about Mirabel’s ceremony. And what came after it …
But of course, the silence is never actually silent. She can hear some giggles from below them, and it eases her anxiety when she hears Camilo’s voice. They are playing with the ball Casita will throw back at them. She can hear the rhythmic thumps against the magical wall.
Isabela clears her throat to change the subject. “If you know everything –“
“I don’t,” Dolores says automatically. “I just hear everything.”
“- then you know what Señor Marin did to get everyone so upset.”
Brown eyes widen before her as the two sisters give her their full attention.
Dolores squeaks. “Not what he did. Just what he said. Which is the same thing in this case.”
“Por favor.” Isabela reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder and then lets go to swing back in place. “If the adults don’t tell us anything, we have to stick together.”
“Well.” They all scoot closer, and Isabela lowers her voice into a whisper. “Señora Marin says Señor Marin gave Señorita Molina flowers. But Señor Marin denies this and said that Isabela gave them to Señorita Molina.”
“I did not.” Isabela looks offended by the mere idea of this. “She suggested purple was not my color. Purple.”
Dolores nods. “And then Señora Marin got mad and said the whole town knows Señor Marin has been visiting Señorita Molina daily. But he says that’s a nasty rumor, and the nasty rumor comes from me because I spread lies.”
“You do not.”
“But then Señora Beltran says she saw Señor Marin give the flowers, and Señor Marin says that was not him – that was Camilo pretending to be him.”
“The nerve of this guy,” Luisa says, but her frowns keep growing.
“But the accusations made Señor Marin real mad and he said it’s all our fault, and that magic is scary and we are controlling the whole town and that our lies will be used to lead them all astray. And Señora Marin said he could just leave the Encanto, then, and Señor Marin said he could not because his ankle really hurt.”
Isabela snorts and it’s quickly followed by the roll of her eyes. “Right.”
“And Señora Marin told him to go to Tía Julieta, but he said no because he does not like her food.”
The sisters gasp loudly. This is unheard of.
“Which Señora Marin told Señor Vega who told Señorita Soto who told Señora Pinzon who told Abuela.”
“So you didn’t tell?” Isabela asks, though Dolores had hoped the answer would be obvious.
She shakes her head. “I-“
Then she hears what must not be spoken.
Not Bruno’s name – just one of the words no one knows where Camilo picked them up from. But they are bad words, and he knows this, and she knows this, and she will never repeat the word she just heard Camilo curse.
When she goes to investigate, she sees Camilo rubbing the sore spot where the ball had hit him.
“Camilo. We do not use that word.”
He looks up at her, glares, and says nothing. It's strange, Camilo's silence. Usually she can always hear him like a background noise. He's louder than most.
The sisters have waited patiently for her to come back inside. “Aye,” Dolores sighs as she sits down again.
“You were saying?” Isabela says, blinking with her big eyes.
“Abuela asked me if it was all true, and I said sí because it is,” Dolores says and shrugs again. “And Abuela became worried because Señor Marin has kept complaining, and she said they cannot let unrest grow unwatched, so that’s why they gathered everyone in the church.”
“And how’s that going?”
“Señor Marin just cried about his childhood and admitted he gave the flowers but only because Señora Molina has been giving him piano lessons which he asked for to impress Señora Marin.” Dolores can hear him sniffle. “And now Señora Pezmuerto is talking about her dead fish and – and you know who.”
“So the town,” Luisa says slowly, expression unmistakably worried, “doesn’t like us?”
“Oh no, most of them like us.” Dolores listens extra closely just in case. “But some of them like us and get afraid sometimes. I think.”
“But not all of us,” Isabela insists and seeks Dolores’ eyes. “Who could be afraid of flowers?”
Dolores tilts her head, still listening. “No, they all like you,” she says, and Isabela smiles at the confirmation.
“But the meeting is going well?”
“Sí. I just heard them –“ Dolores sighs as the conversation slips away. Instead, her focus is stolen by Camilo saying a forbidden word – another one this time, but just as bad. It starts with a J this time. “Un momento.”
Mirabel is covering her mouth in shock, and she is the one who looks ashamed when Dolores leans over the railing. Camilo is busy kicking pebbles off the tiles.
“Camilo,” Dolores says and tries her best to sound like Mamá. Nothing has worked so far, and she is the one who is supposed to be in charge tonight. “If you cannot keep your mouth clean, you stay silent. Quédate callado. I will not hear that language from you. I will tell Mamá when she comes home, comprende?"
Camilo says nothing. While it annoys her, she cannot argue against it. He is technically doing what he is told. So instead, she sighs and tells Mirabel, “Don’t learn from him.”
The remaining sisters are standing in the doorway, trying to understand what Camilo has done. Dolores doesn’t care to explain so she sits down, ready to talk about anything else.
“I pity you,” Isabela says as the door to her room closes. “If I had to listen to all the things Mirabel says about me behind my back, my head would have exploded into a pile of roses.”
“It feels like it,” Dolores says quietly. “Sometimes. He is hard to understand, even if I try to listen.”
“He’s a kid. You can’t understand kids. They’re dumb.”
Luisa nudges her shoulder gently. “That’s mean, Isa. We were niñas too, once.”
“Yeah, and I remember you trying to smash through the wall for no reason.”
“There was a reason. A stupid reason, but a reason.”
“It still proves my point. Kids are dumb.” Isabela raises her head and looks very adult for a 12-year-old. “They’ll grow up, though.”
Dolores should join the conversation because she remembers the wall incident, but she is too busy keeping track of what’s happening below them. She can hear Mirabel’s soft voice nudging Camilo.
“Camilo. Camilo. Don’t be stupido. You can stop talking to Dolores and not stop talking to me! Por favor –“
“-saying?”
Dolores blinks, realizing Isabela is leaning very close to her face. One of the flowers Isabela had put in her hair falls into her lap as she pulls back in surprise. “¿Qué?”
“The meeting,” Isabela says, and her tone lets her know that she’s repeating herself. “Are they hugging it out or are they yelling?”
Dolores listens, ignoring Mirabel’s questions and Camilo’s silence. “Abuela is speaking. The rest is very quiet. They laugh.”
“That’s good?” Luisa asks, and Dolores is quick to reassure her.
“Yes. She says transparency will remove the fear. Our Gifts are for them.”
Dolores plays with the yellow flower between her fingers, rolling it around while being careful not to damage it.
“Of course.” Luisa nods eagerly, and her shoulders have fallen a tiny bit. Maybe she will feel better if Dolores asks to braid her hair again. She should do that. But her fingers are already busy playing with the flower. “No one is disagreeing on that, right?”
“How could they?” Isabela snorts at the very idea. “I’ll just sprout some more flowers tomorrow and everyone will be happy.”
“And I’ll find the donkeys. I’m up to four at a time now.”
“I think –“
“Mirabel.” Camilo’s whisper is soft and fragile, but for Dolores, it's loud enough to echo inside her head. “I wish you were my hermana.”
The flower snaps in her hand, and Dolores doubles over with a squeak. There’s a buzzing in her ears, drowning out Mirabel’s reply. It’s okay. She doesn’t want to hear it.
“Dolores,” Isabela asks when she doesn’t move. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, you’re looking kinda weird.”
“I’m fine.” Dolores straightens and looks at the broken petals in her palm. “Just – colorful words.” Another sound escapes her mouth.
She can hear Mirabel saying some of the words that are resting on her tongue. “-you okay? You look strange, Milo? We can ask to go get Mamá and –“
“Maybe orange?”
“-stay? I’ll go fetch some chorreadas. I know you still like them cold. They won’t notice if we just take a few –“
Dolores looks up as a heavy flower crown lands on her head. Isabela adjusts it with nimble fingers. “Smile. It completes the look.”
Dolores tries. From the other end of the Encanto, she can hear Abuela’s voice calming so many people, herself included.
“The Gifts may be ours, but it is our pride to share them with you. The Miracle belongs to the community –“
And from below, a single word that makes her entire body turns cold.
“Bruno.”
Dolores cannot remember the last time she’s heard the name, it’s been almost a year, and Camilo is saying it with such confidence. He knows. He knows not to say it. And he knows she hears it.
“Brunobrunobrunobrunobrunobrunobrunobrunobruno-“
The petals fall to the floor to be drowned by the mass of flowers as Dolores stalks out of the room. “Camilo.” She hasn’t raised her voice this high since she received her Gift.
But it’s terrible, and it’s strange, and as she descends, she cannot help but wonder if someone else heard this. The name. It’s so haunted, it feels like everyone must have felt it. But it only reached her ears, and she’s already begun to wonder if she just imagined it. If she’s just hearing things again … Like the noises from the walls …
Camilo stands there, back straight and face set in stone. It reminds her of his Ceremony, how he’d braced himself before reaching for his door.
She drags him into the corner for privacy (It’s such a weird concept for her, but she reminds herself that other people cannot hear them. It’s just her. Always her.) and kneels to be on his level. “Why are you being terrible?”
Camilo shrugs. He’s so silent now.
Dolores doesn’t understand. Her ears ring and her chest hurts, and she reminds herself that no one else heard what Camilo said. The name, at least.
But there’s the other whisper. The one meant for Mirabel.
But –
It was also meant for her.
“You know the rules, you don’t need me to repeat them. You don’t say the name.” Dolores grabs his shoulders, trying to keep the eye-contact when he looks to the side. “Are you trying to make me yell? You know – You know I don’t like yelling. You are being mean. Very mean. I can hear what you say.”
“I know,” Camilo says quietly.
That’s the worst part. Dolores doesn’t feel angry very often, and so she doesn’t quite know what to do with the weird sensation in her chest. But it’s terrible, this confession, even if it is a fact they already knew.
Camilo knows that it doesn’t matter if he whispers or yells. Camilo knows that she will hear.
Camilo knows that she heard it.
Dolores purses her lips. “If you want me to know something, you can say it to my face.”
“I wish Mirabel was my sister.”
There is no hesitation in Camilo’s voice. He doesn’t look at her, even as she steps away as if she’d been burned. “Camilo.”
His face is resigned. Camilo is a stubborn kid, but Dolores has never tried anything like this before, and she doesn’t know what to do. If Mamá was here, maybe she would know. But there would also be clouds, maybe thunder, and now Dolores is glad she is handling this herself. Like an adult. She can do this. She must try.
“You – You go to your room. I don’t want to listen to you anymore. I’m tired of listening to you -
“But I’ve been quiet!” Camilo argues, and the sudden exclamation causes her to cover her ears.
“You are loud.” Her head hurts, and she closes her eyes. “You are always loud, and I cannot – Camilo –“
She opens her eyes to see Camilo shift into herself. While covering his ears, he turns and runs. To her horror, the house doesn’t stop him, and the doors open. With a nervous squeak, she follows him outside, trying to catch him before he can reach the first buildings.
The town is basically empty as the inhabitants have gathered for the meeting.
Except for the kids left at home to be left out of the drama.
They have gathered in the square, playing and running and mingling, and Camilo knows to take advantage of this.
Dolores watches in horror as he turns into Diego and Paula and Maria and then he turns a corner and –
“Camilo,” she tries. “Oh no. Please don’t – Camilo, you are not allowed to –“
She comes to a halt, a bunch of kids staring up at her, confused by her presence.
“Oh no.”
They are asking questions, and she knows she should answer them. She looks around, trying to spot Camilo but that’s an impossible task, and instead, she ends up focusing on the shadow cast by the church. She can hear the people muttering inside, cups of coffee being offered, throats being cleared. If anyone sees her …
Luisa and Isabela are waiting by the front door as she hastens back to Casita. Behind them, she can see Mirabel holding the plate of chorreadas she’d promised Camilo.
Dolores swallows. “He left.”
Isabela raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“He turned into everyone and he left and I need you to come help me find him, por favor.”
Luisa nods, having already taken one step forward when Isabela’s arm shoots out to hold her back.
“Wait,” she says, looking between the two of them. “That would be stupid, right? He could be anyone. So we can go out and yell Camilo’s name all night and disturb everyone and disrupt the meeting – or we understand that Camilo is being Camilo.”
“Well, no, he turned into someone else,” Dolore says, feeling helpless.
“Camilo loves attention. He’s doing this for the drama, running off like that!” Isabela looks angry, and Dolores understands because she’d felt like that five minutes ago. Now – now she just feels everything else. “He’ll come back for dinner. The best thing we can do is prepare it – he’ll start lurking around once he can smell the food. Like he always does.”
Dolores tries her best to be comforted by Isabela confidence. They all know her brother. “That is true.”
“We could go look, though,” Luisa suggests, still looking towards the town.
“And risk Abuela seeing us? They told us to stay in the Casita and to make sure they did as well.” For a split second, they can see the anxiety in Isabela’s face at the thought, but then she regains her confident expression. “We’d be doing him a favor, actually, giving him the chance to slink back home and avoid a scolding.”
Dolores tries to listen for her brother’s voice and hears nothing. The meeting is still going on, this time it’s her tía speaking, and that means Camilo hasn’t run to them either. “That does sound like something Camilo would want,” she says carefully.
Camilo is stubborn, tonight more than ever, but he has an appetite, and he isn’t stupid.
Still, Dolores cannot help but bite her lip. She looks up at the sky, and it’s darkening but it’s free of clouds. Clear skies, clear skies.
“Where’s Camilo?” Mirabel’s tiny voice asks from behind her sisters.
Dolores squeaks and buries her face in her hands.