Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sana, sana, colita de rana, 

Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana. 

Si no es mañana, pasado mañana, 

Y sino será para la otra semana. 

[Heal, heal, little frog's tail,

If you don't heal today, then you'll heal tomorrow. 

If not tomorrow, then you'll heal the next day, 

If not on that day, then a week's time away.] 

Mirabel was usually the first one out of the house in the mornings. She liked to be busy; it was a trait she inherited from her mother. And there was always work to be done in town. Kids to be looked after, errands to run, messages to pass to the more useful Madrigals... Anyway, the point was, Mirabel wasn’t actually home for much of the mornings. But right now, she was avoiding town. It was... well, it was complicated. But it did mean she got to watch her mother preparing the day’s haul of healing food.

Mirabel often watched as her mom cooked. It wasn't a rare sight, of course. But today, there was something about the set of her shoulders as she chopped and boiled that made her look... Different. Maybe she was nervous, thought Mirabel. It had been over ten years since Julieta had cooked for her brother. 

Next to her at the table, Tío Bruno sneezed. He groaned to himself. 

"Salud," said Julieta, "Not long now, okay?" 

Bruno sniffed and rubbed his nose, grimacing. "Thanks, Juli."

Julieta smiled. Mirabel patted Bruno on the arm. 

He really did look miserable. To be honest, it wasn't surprising. Tío Bruno looked sick when he was perfectly healthy. He was a very sorry sight when he was actually sick.  

Mirabel had woken up that morning and found her uncle hiding in the upstairs sitting-room, wrapped up in blankets and sneezing incessantly. She'd dragged him downstairs, ignoring his weak protests, and plonked him at the kitchen table in the knowledge that her mother would drop everything to cure him as soon as she laid eyes on him. Sure enough, Julieta had immediately stopped cooking arepas and started chiding Bruno for not being careful enough.

"You're staring at me," muttered Bruno, and Mirabel flushed. 

"Oh! Sorry! I was just... uh... thinking. About how bad you look." She realised she'd accidentally told the truth. "Wait, no! Not that you look bad, I meant - " 

"No, no, it's fine, I've heard people in town wondering if I'm still alive or just a zombie, it's not new." 

"I didn't mean it like that! I just meant you look terrible right now! No, hold on - " 

Mirabel realised her mother was laughing quietly to herself, and she turned around in her chair. "Don't laugh, you know what I meant!" 

"I know, corazón. You two are very like each other, you know that?" 

Mirabel turned around to her uncle and saw that he was also laughing. She winced as the laugh turned into a cough. 

"When you were little," said Julieta, "You wanted green glasses to match your Tío Bruno. Do you remember?" 

Mirabel blinked and reflected that no, she didn't even remotely remember saying that. Bruno, though, brightened up. 

"Yeah, your little green glasses! And when you put them on, you were so disappointed you couldn't see the colour of them. You kept taking them off just to look."

Mirabel thought her glasses had always been green. She found herself instinctively pulling them off to look, then kicked herself when both her mother and uncle started laughing. 

"She loved you when she was little, I remember her asking for you to put her to bed," said Julieta. 

"Nah. Camilo and Mirabel would cry if I put them to bed. They'd ask me what I did to you and Pepa."

"Not when they were babies. Pepa would give me Camilo and I'd give you Mirabel, do you remember? And she'd just look at you, all quiet. I used to wonder what she was thinking."

"I'm pretty sure Mirabel used to wait until I was holding her to go to the bathroom. Maybe that was what she was thinking."

"Mom, Tío Bruno," groaned Mirabel, "I'm right here! Can't you have this conversation some other, less embarrassing time? I'm kind of not a baby any more." 

"You'll always be my baby," said Julieta, coming up behind Mirabel and planting a kiss on her head. Mirabel gave an exasperated, "Mom," but Julieta was still smiling widely as she went back to the stovetop. Mirabel glanced at Bruno and saw he had an identical smile. She rolled her eyes. 

"Just like Brunito will always be my baby brother," added Julieta, tipping soup into a bowl. 

"Ten minutes!" protested Bruno, "I'm ten minutes younger than you are!" 

"Ten long minutes. You can't cook soup."

"Okay, maybe not. But I can eat it. That counts for something, right?" 

Mirabel knew her uncle and her mother were close - at least they'd seemed that way while rebuilding the house. But she never really saw them spend much time together. Her mother was always busy and Bruno was... Well, Bruno had a tendency to vanish. It made her happy to see them laugh together, she realised. Her mom got so few chances to just... hang out with her brother. Or anybody, really. Julieta was always needed somewhere, by somebody.

Julieta passed a steaming bowl across the table. "There you go. And it's hot, be careful." 

"Mm-hmm. It looks great. I'm not gonna be careful."

Julieta clicked her tongue at him and he grinned. Bruno raised the spoon to his lips and sipped. Mirabel and her mother watched.

Bruno ate a spoonful of soup, then another. 

...Is it just me, thought Mirabel, or is he still looking kind of pale? And his nose is still looking kind of red. Maybe he was just uglier than Mirabel thought now that she was looking closely. 

Bruno took another gulp, dropped his spoon, turned his head to the side and sneezed. 

Mirabel and Julieta exchanged glances. 

Mirabel had only a vague idea of how her mother's gift worked. She knew that it was kind of specific. It didn't work if you tried to steal or buy the food, for example - it had to be given to you. And it didn't work on people Julieta didn't like. (Luckily there weren't many people who Julieta disliked, but she'd told Mirabel that at school her powers didn't work on anyone who bullied Bruno or Pepa.) And it sometimes mattered what the food was. Arepas con queso for pain and injuries, soups for colds, sweet cakes for persistent pains and cups of tea for what her mom called Melancolia. Sometimes, when someone was seriously ill, Julieta would spend a few hours working on the perfect meal. She kept sheets of handwritten recipes and old battered books on a shelf in the kitchen for those occasions, and she would sit, looking for the right food for her patient.

(“It’s not just about making people better,” her mother had explained, “It’s also about making them happy, giving them something that makes them feel good.” Mirabel had suggested that people became happy when they were cured regardless of what food did it, but Julieta had shrugged that idea off.)

Mirabel had no idea why the food wouldn't have worked on Bruno, and judging from the look on her mom's face, neither did she. 

"Oh, Bruno, I'm sorry - " 

"No, no, I'm sure it's doing something!" Bruno, perhaps more concerned with cheering up his sister than getting better, picked up his bowl and drank directly from it. Then he choked, fumbled as he put it back down and coughed a couple of times. "I'm f-feeling better already - " 

Julieta had one hand on Bruno's back and another on his forehead. Bruno grimaced. Julieta was furrowing her eyebrows. "Maybe it wasn't enough. I could try something else - " 

"Julieta?" Agustín called from the other room. "We gotta go! Are you ready?" 

"Just a minute!" Julieta glanced from the door to her brother and back again, frowning. Bruno looked at the pile of unfinished arepas on the counter and waved his hands dismissively. 

"Vamos, vamos, I'm fine!" he said. "You got stuff to do, more important patients than me right now, there's always later. I managed ten years without your gift -" 

Julieta winced. "That's why I want to help, gordo, I wish you hadn't had to." 

Bruno was blushing as he got up to leave. "W-well, it can wait a few hours, you've got a lotta stuff to do. I'll just be over here, doing, um - " He was saved from having to finish making up an excuse by a coughing fit. 

"But Bruno, you haven't even finished - " 

In true Bruno fashion, he vanished before Julieta could stop him. 

Julieta sighed. 

"He hasn't changed," she murmured to herself. Then she looked at Mirabel. "I’ll be back before dinner. Mira, will you check on him?”

"Of course I will, mom."

“Just make sure he’s still here and not doing anything too strenuous." Julieta shook her head. “He’ll push himself until he collapses if you let him, you know.”

That information didn’t surprise Mirabel, although she was surprised to hear her mom mention it - Bruno didn’t look that bad. Julieta must have seen it in her expression, because she added, “Mm-hm, he’s got quite a temperature. And he’s not as young as he used to be, he can’t keep pushing himself like he used to.” Julieta frowned. “...Maybe I should stay... I’ll come back soon if I can.”

If Julieta could have picked a second gift, Mirabel thought, it would have been the ability to be in two places at once. At the look of hesitation on her mother’s face, Mirabel knew she needed to step up to the plate; she put her hand on Julieta’s arm.

“Don’t worry about it!” Mirabel said brightly. “I’m not going anywhere today! I can look after Tío Bruno! He’s in good hands. He’s not going anywhere! I totally got this!” Probably, she thought.

Still, her mother brightened up. “Oh, you’re wonderful. Thank you, cielo. Just make sure he actually gets some rest, okay? And keep him company. He gets lonely when he’s like this.”

“Sure!” Mirabel glanced at the abandoned bowl on the table. “...Lonely? He just... ran away from the kitchen.”

"He still gets lonely, I can tell. He thinks he's being helpful by running away. He always does this." Julieta turned to her work, frowning. "Maybe he's having an allergic reaction. I've never been good with hayfever... Maybe a drink...?" 

Mirabel left her mother thoughtfully cooking her arepas con queso and went to start investigating Bruno's various hidey holes. 

Camilo wasn't the most powerful Madrigal. Not by a long shot. But it was unarguably true that he was the most popular. It was one of the things about him that was unique among the Madrigals: people trusted Camilo.

The rest of the family didn't fare so well. It wasn't easy being the only kids in town with supernatural abilities. People were in awe of them, and the awe came with a big helping of jealousy and resentment, neither of which were great for making friends. They all had their own ways of dealing with it. Isabela used to have a gaggle of friends who worshiped her, who she'd since abandoned. Luisa found her friends by standing up against bullies. Dolores was simply very quiet. And poor Mirabel - too Madrigal to be normal, too powerless to be cool - tried way too hard to be friends with everybody. Nobody in Encanto was desperate enough to be friends with Mirabel. It would have been a social death sentence. 

Little Antonio, who had recently started school, was starting to experience the Madrigal effect. Camilo was surprised to learn that, despite the fact Antonio never said anything to anybody, he was totally fine. Antonio seemed completely indifferent to what anybody thought of him. It had the effect of making him both very weird and giving him an air of easy confidence. 

Camilo, on his way into town, found himself waylaid by Lorenzo Zacarias Ramos and his gang of cronies. Camilo had liked Lorenzo more when they were younger, when they used to play football together. These days Lorenzo was compensating for his nerdy body and thin frame by carting around a group of friends who were all at least a year younger than him. Big fish, small pond. 

Not that Camilo didn't sometimes pull pranks with Lorenzo, or occasionally still play football. He was just a little bit judgy about it. It was classy. 

"Hey hey hey, Camilo, my man!" Lorenzo gave him a toothy grin. "You busy tomorrow? I got an epic prank going."

"I dunno, depends how epic," said Camilo, flashing back a grin in return. Lorenzo was eager to impress Camilo. It was, in all honesty, a little off-putting. 

"We're heading to the new bridge to get things moving," said Lorenzo. "We got a hideout under it. See you there?" 

"Camilo!" 

Camilo looked around for the source of the noise and found, to his surprise, Antonio. Who was meant to be at school. But no, there he was, down the street, calling for his brother. 

Camilo shrugged at Lorenzo. "Guess I'm busy," he said, "Some other time."

"Your loss, dude!" Lorenzo began to lead his flock away. 

Antonio rarely trusted Camilo with anything. He never had, ever since Camilo had drawn eyebrows on the frog he caught when he was four. Antonio was an independent little kid, and if he needed help, he asked the local wildlife, Mirabel, and their mother, in that order. Antonio also didn't shout very often, especially not when other people could hear him - he could be painfully shy sometimes. It was therefore very serious business if Antonio yelled for him in public. 

Camilo waited as Antonio ran up to him, then paused to catch his breath. "What's up, Antonio?" 

"Señora Mia told me that the rats are being taken!" 

Camilo took a few seconds to work this out in his head. " What is Señora Mia?" he said eventually. 

"A cat."

"Uh-huh. And which rats are being taken where?" 

"Our rats. And I don't know where, that's the problem."

By our rats, Antonio presumably meant the rats that lived in the Casa Madrigal. They weren't exactly pets, even if Tío Bruno had a couple in his pockets at all times. To say they were Bruno's rats implied they were subservient to him, whereas Camilo was pretty sure the rats viewed Bruno as a big rat colleague. 

"Someone's stealing our rats," said Camilo flatly. 

"Yeah."

"And that's a problem?" 

Antonio's face answered the question for him. Camilo sighed. 

"Okay, okay," Camilo put his hands in his pockets. "What do you need from me?" 

"Señora Mia says that at night, the rats get this really good scent and follow it somewhere. She said it was a sweet food smell. So I have to talk to the baker."

Camilo raised an eyebrow. 

"And by that you mean... I have to talk to him for you?" 

Antonio hid in Camilo's ruana. Camilo shrugged. 

"Alright, detective," he sighed, "Let's go."

Mirabel, to be honest, didn't know that much about what it was like to be ill. The longest she'd been sick in her life was about forty minutes. Her mom could cure her with a glass of water. Still, Mirabel was an educated woman! She was the daughter of a healer! She could do anything. Probably.

Of course, said a voice at the back of Mirabel’s mind, You’re only trying so hard because you need the distraction. Mirabel cheerfully ignored this voice. She was busy making tea and putting it on a tray with a plate of empanadas. 

...Well, she would have been if she knew how to make any of these teas, and whether Bruno actually drank any of them. She spent a few minutes squinting at them until she gave up. He drank coffee, right? Was coffee good or bad for you if you were sick? She was about to find out. Then, considering her masterpiece so far, she decided to add a biscuit to the tray. She even managed to find an alpaca-wool blanket that she’d once stolen and used for embroidery practice and tucked that under her arm too. Florence Nightingale couldn’t have done a better job. 

“Okay,” she murmured to herself, “So the only question now is... Which dark corner did he go into...?”

Usually, there was at least one errant rat around to lead her to Tío Bruno, but she was having no such luck today. She figured probably in the walls, not in his tower. Bruno had a tendency to go into the walls when he was feeling low. The only person who ever made the walk, climb and leap all the way to his room in there was Mirabel. (Not that others hadn’t tried. Her dad had once tried to visit Bruno in his ‘office’ and broken both ankles. Her mother had to throw an arepa down the hole.)

...Maybe Bruno really did want to be alone? He wasn't feeling well, right? Oh, well. Her mom said to keep him company. And if Bruno really didn't want to see her, he would doubtless find a way to escape. Bruno would rather jump out of a window than stay in an uncomfortable situation. She'd seen it happen.

She saw candlelight coming out through the doorframe of Bruno’s weird little behind-the-kitchen room. Thinking about her mother’s words, she cracked the door open and peered through, trying to go unnoticed.

Well... he certainly didn’t look happy. He was hunched in his battered armchair, head in his hands. She wondered briefly if he was asleep, but he gave a ragged sigh that suggested he was awake, just feeling sorry for himself. Or maybe suffering from a migraine. Or an involuntary vision. It was hard to tell with Bruno sometimes.

She braced herself, then knocked and pushed the door open like she’d just arrived. He quickly sat up, clearly trying to get himself into a less telling position. She could have sworn there was a flicker of relief in his face when he noticed her; then it was gone, and he looked - well - he looked tired and bedraggled, but that was just kinda how he looked normally. 

"Mirabel! Everything okay?" 

"Yeah! I'm just checking in! You did... physically run away... just now...”

Bruno shrugged as though this were a totally normal thing that everybody did all the time. “Didn’t wanna make your mom late. Your abuela would never let me hear the end of it.”

Actually, if Abuela saw Bruno right now she’d probably have insisted he stay and eat soup until he was either better or too full to move. Mirabel kept this thought to herself. “I brought you some coffee.”

Bruno perked up at this prospect, and she managed to give him the tray then drop the blanket on his lap while his hands were full. He looked down at it, then at her, then evidently decided to pick his battles and just said, “Thanks.”

He lifted the cup to his lips, but instead of drinking, he inhaled slowly. Mirabel studied him. His nose looked red and sore, like he’d spent all night blowing it. Judging from the way he was breathing, he probably had. Why was he still sick? A worry suddenly popped into her head - was it something serious? Surely not. Julieta had dealt with worse. Did Julieta not like her brother? That couldn’t be right, could it?

Bruno met her eyes over his cup of coffee and raised an eyebrow. Mirabel, remembering her mission, blurted, “So, are you planning on taking a nap or something?”

“You just gave me a cup of coffee.”

Dang it. She had. “Well, I dunno, you look cozy.”

“ You put this on me.”

Also true. “So, uh, are you busy later?”

Bruno paused to cough. “Bleh. Weird that you mention it. Yes.”

This was an odd answer. Now, this being Bruno, ‘busy’ could refer to him sitting on the floor cross-legged with his arms splayed on the floorboards for ‘flexibility’ for twenty minutes straight. Bruno did not have a thriving social life or a whole heap of work to be doing, especially while everybody else was out. However, there was something about his answer which struck Mirabel as sounding weird. She gave him a questioning look.

“A bunch of the rats seem to have gone somewhere - ” he paused to cough again. He made a sweeping gesture of the room. “See?”

“Uh...”

Actually, now that Mirabel was looking, the room was weirdly empty. Usually, wherever Bruno went, at least four or five rats were around somewhere nearby. But there wasn’t even the usual scurrying sound at all. Mirabel remembered that she hadn’t seen any rats on the way here either. Was that weird for them?

“And I would be a pretty lousy rat guardian if I didn’t go looking for ‘em,” said Bruno. 

Mirabel made a note of the phrase ‘rat guardian’ and decided to tell Camilo about it later. “I mean, I dunno about that. It’s only been, like... less than an hour? Right?”

“I haven’t seen ‘em at all today.”

“Oh, really? I have!” Mirabel tried to sound casual. “I saw a whole bunch of them this morning! Just chillin’ out in the kitchen! I think Casita might be playing with them or something?”

The picture-frames rattled supportively. Bruno relaxed. “Oh, well, if that’s all...”

“Definitely,” said Mirabel, “Probably! You should just, you know, sit tight. Maybe just sit down, drink some coffee... Maybe some water. Or fruit juice?”

Bruno sneezed. He squinted at her through watery eyes, sniffling.

“Did your Mom put you up to this?”

“Pfft, no!” Mirabel waved away this question as though it wasn’t obviously true. “I just thought we should hang out! And do... healthy... activities.”

Bruno was giving her a look. She couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t believe her, or because he did. Mirabel was pretty sure Bruno wouldn’t judge her for not having anyone better to hang out with than her fifty-year-old uncle. But that didn’t stop it crossing her mind. Especially today...

...His piercing green gaze was enough to make her say, “Okay, well, I’m kind of avoiding the village at the moment,” which made his face soften.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said. “Well... Consider me at your service, Mirabel. A-although I’m not exactly stellar company at the moment...”

“Hey, I don’t mind,” she said, “I’m not picky.” That made him smile. “I have some sketches I could use your feedback on, I could bring them to you...?”

“I mean, I could just go upstairs and see ‘em for myself,” he said, “Let me just - AUGH!”

He was halfway through the motion of standing when his armchair whacked into the backs of his knees, knocking him back into his seat. The floorboards jolted violently, sending his chair - with him in it - sliding across the floor and against the wall. The impact made the armrests pop off, and when they reattached to the chair, it was big enough to lie on. It also nearly knocked Bruno off, and the chair had to duck to catch him before he hit the floor. Bruno, dazed, raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, well, I’ll be right here, apparently.”

Mirabel laughed. Apparently, she hadn’t been the only one paying close attention to her mom’s worries. “Sure! Don’t go anywhere!”

Casita rarely did anything within the walls. Mirabel wasn’t sure why - maybe that was how Bruno preferred it. As she walked back, though, the floorboards squeaked questioningly at her.

“Tío Bruno will be fine,” she told the house, “It’s not like he’s bedbound or anything.”

A wooden beam lowered itself from the ceiling and hung in front of her, gently stopping her in her tracks. The creak repeated.

“Me?” she scoffed. “I’m fine, he’s the one that’s sick.”

The beam tilted towards her.

“I’m fine, Casita, nothing’s bothering me,” she sighed, “Let’s just focus on Bruno for now, okay?”

The beam receded into the ceiling, but not before creaking doubtfully one more time. Mirabel, frowning, continued her way to her bedroom.

It turned out investigating was a lot harder when Antonio refused to speak directly to any human witnesses. 

“Well, I don’t think I’ve been making anything new recently,” said Milo, crossing his flour-covered arms. “I do bake at night sometimes... But I can’t imagine you could smell that from the Casa Madrigal.”

Antonio tugged on Camilo’s ruana to indicate he had a question. Camilo sighed and bent down. Milo, luckily for them, gave a smile showing he found this endearing rather than annoying.

“Ask him if she’s seen any rats doing strange things,” whispered Antonio.

“I’m sure he would have mentioned that,” said Camilo, out loud. Antonio hid his face again. Camilo sighed. “You haven’t seen any rats doing weird stuff, have you?”

“No, not recently. I wouldn’t really know,” admitted Milo, “I tend to avoid them if they’re indoors. They’re sweet to look at if they’re outside, but I always get a little freaked out if they get too close.”

Camilo looked at Antonio, who indicated that he had no further questions by not revealing his face.

“Well, thanks anyway,” said Camilo, “And thanks for the roscóns.” (It was admittedly very powerful for Camilo, popular teen, to walk around with an adorable little brother; he should consider doing this more often.)

“That’s okay!” Milo smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help. I’m sure your Tío Bruno is very worried. Tell him I’ll keep an eye out!”

Camilo waited until they were out of the bakery to think about this.

“Antonio, have you asked Tío Bruno if he knows what’s happening?”

“No,” said Antonio earnestly.

“Why not?”

“If something was happening, and he knew what it was,” said Antonio, “He would fix it. It’s still a problem, so he hasn’t.”

Camilo raised his eyebrows at that reasoning.

“Antonio, my friend, I think you overestimate Tío Bruno’s ability to do things,” he said, “We should go to talk to him. C’mon.”

Mirabel didn't usually like showing anyone her drawings. She didn't really like showing off her embroidery that much, even if she wore it around the house, although she liked to make gifts for people to wear. But sometimes she liked to sketch out ideas for patterns, and sometimes she would draw a whole outfit, one she would usually never get around to making. 

It wasn't that her parents weren't supportive of her, of course. They were extremely supportive. It was just... her dad would say it was 'real neat!' and 'so you!' and her mom would gush about how talented and clever she was, and she didn't really feel like either of them understood what she was doing or why. 

Bruno, on the other hand, always seemed like he took it seriously. He would carefully consider each design, occasionally commenting on what their strengths were. He would always give criticism if she asked, but never if she didn't. And if she needed advice, he was surprisingly good at giving it. He had a great sense of design for a guy who dressed in... well... rags. He didn't just seem indulgent of her art, like everybody else; he acted like it was genuinely cool and interesting regardless of who made it. 

...It was a lot to think about for Mirabel, who had two sisters and three cousins and hadn't exactly been heaped with praise and attention growing up. 

Bruno flicked through the pages she'd brought him in silent consideration, eyebrows furrowed. 

"It's for Dolores' birthday," Mirabel explained, "I was gonna make a shawl. I didn't wanna just do wavy lines or, y'know, ears to represent her gift, but I wanted something I could make a pattern out of..."

"These actual music notes? From a song?" 

"Mariano actually gave me some of his sheet music to use, he said it's one of the songs he plays for her."

"It's good, simple but it's kinda elaborate. These lines here," he traced a part of her drawing, "They'll be hard to recreate with thread."

"I know, but I can't think of a better way to do it..."

He took a thoughtful bite of empanada. Mirabel noted, with pleasure, that distracting Bruno with her sketches had somehow caused him to eat most of the food she'd brought him. 

"Here, gimme a pencil," said Bruno, and a shelf tipped towards him and rolled a pencil into his hands. "Oh, thanks. You mind if I draw here? ...Yeah, if you tried this..."

Eventually Mirabel had a fresh sheet of paper and was sketching at Bruno's table, occasionally showing him her progress. He was still coughing and sniffling, but he was definitely less droopy and sad than he had been earlier. She was feeling pretty good about it until there was a knock at the door, which surprised both of them. 

"Tío Bruno?" said Camilo. "You in here?" 

Camilo? He didn't come here often. Bruno paused to clear his throat. "Yeah, what's up?" 

Camilo swung the door open, and Antonio came wandering in with him. Mirabel winced. She might have advised against bringing an energetic little kid around a man who was meant to be resting. Luckily for her, Bruno lit up when he saw his two nephews. 

Camilo raised his eyebrows at the sight of his uncle, who had a blanket around his shoulders and a growing pile of tissues next to him. "Wow! Looking terrible, Tío Bruno! Were you hit by a truck or what?" 

"Mm," said Bruno tiredly, "I wish."

Antonio paused when he saw Bruno, and Mirabel could see him trying to figure out how to feel. It was confusing, when you were five, to see a grown-up laid low like that. "Antonio, be gentle with Tío Bruno," she called, "He's not feeling very well."

"Oh, okay." 

Antonio solemnly walked across the room and gestured for Bruno to lean closer to him. Bruno did, and Antonio reached up and dutifully gave his uncle a hug, patting his back in a way that was very reminiscent of his dad. 

"Sana, sana, colita de rana," said Antonio kindly, as though he were an adult and Bruno the child. Mirabel had to cover her face to stop herself laughing. Antonio really was too precious for this world. 

Bruno seemed to be thinking the same thing. He was smiling warmly, his eyes crinkling affectionately. “I’ll be just fine, Toñito,” he said, "Now, what can I do for you two? You here for pleasure or business?" 

"Business," said Camilo, "We were gonna ask you about your rats, Antonio says a bunch of them are... uh... totally... fine...?" 

Mirabel was violently gesturing at Camillo not to say any more, but neither Antonio nor Bruno saw. Antonio continued to explain, "The rats told me that some of them have started leaving and not coming back. We're trying to find them, but we can't."

Bruno's eyes widened. "What?" 

"They keep smelling a really good smell nearby, but it's not the baker. We don't know where it's coming from."

Bruno was about to respond, but he had to turn away and sneeze into his elbow. The force made him start to cough. Antonio didn't seem to mind, but Camilo winced, starting to realise what Mirabel was trying to tell him.

"Well, no rats here," said Camilo, "I guess we're out of leads. Maybe we should..."

Both Antonio and Bruno turned around, very clearly not receptive to the idea that they should give up. Mirabel quickly gave Camilo a look that they should. A lesser man would have wilted, but Camilo didn't even miss a beat. 

"...Try putting out some food and waiting a day. Once we've attracted some rats, we might be able to follow them to wherever they're going."

Antonio nodded. Bruno stroked his beard and considered this idea. Mirabel, sensing a weak point, pounced. 

"That's a great idea, Camilo! We can even make a trail back into the house, then make sure someone's here to catch them when they show up. Oh, man! That means someone will have to stay here!" She snapped her fingers. "Ooh, I can't do that, and Antonio has school, so that means Bruno has to be on house duty. Well, dang!" 

"Mirabel," said Camilo, paused, and then said, "No, never mind. Just admiring your wit and charisma."

Mirabel glared at him, but neither Bruno nor Antonio seemed to be picking up on anything. They seemed more concerned with their rodential affairs.

"We have to make something that smells more than whatever keeps catching the rats," said Antonio. 

"I haven't noticed anything that should've tempted them away." Bruno made a face. "Well. Not that that matters. I can hardly smell anything at the moment."

Antonio turned around to Mirabel and Camilo, eyes wide. "We have to cook something."

"Funny that you mention cooking," said a voice.

A small window had opened up in the wall that bordered the kitchen. Peeking through with a bemused expression was Julieta. Bruno jumped, maybe at the idea that his secret room could be easily peeked at.

"Mom!" said Mirabel. "You're home early!"

"Very healthy town today," said Julieta, grinning, "Except for a certain someone still here. What are you all doing?" 

Casita politely shuffled plaster and wooden panels out of the way, making a little doorway for Julieta to step through. Mirabel didn't realise the kitchen wall could open. She wondered why Casita had never done so before. She'd gone on many perilous journeys to get here. 

Julieta looked around Bruno's room curiously, which made Bruno start to shrink into his chair. 

"This is where you...?"

"Yeah," said Bruno weakly, "Hey, kids, why don't we move into the kitchen...?" 

Julieta put her hands together. "You know, that's exactly what I was thinking. You seem to be planning something very important," she gave Antonio a smile, "And it sounds like you might need my help."

When they were all situated in the kitchen, Mirabel noticed that Casita was putting away more bags of groceries than usual. She wondered what her mom had been buying so much of, and made a note to ask.

“This is all very exciting,” said Julieta, when Camilo finished explaining their epic quest. “Is this what you do while I’m out? I should come home more often.”

“Well, Mom? Do you know what we can make?” said Mirabel.

Julieta smiled widely. “I know what to make for everything, mi amor.”

She began to shuffle through her piles of papers and books, searching for something. She managed to dig up a single sheet of handwritten paper, which was headed Luz’s Pandebono Special. “Casita, is the anejo still there?”

The pantry door opened and proudly shot forth a platter. “And the blue cheese,” added Julieta. Another one came out. Camilo caught them and put them out. “Paprika.”

Antonio diligently rolled up his sleeves. Bruno began to do the same. “No, not you,” said Julieta, “No, no protests! You’ll sneeze on the dough! Camilo, measure these out.” 

“Mom, what’s all this... stuff?” asked Mirabel, watching the rapid exchange of things in and out of the pantry.

“That’s a surprise!” Julieta seemed very pleased with herself. “Here, you crack the eggs.”

Mirabel watched her mother bustling around. No matter how much cooking she did, Julieta didn’t seem to ever get tired of it. However, Mirabel very rarely saw her mother having... quite so much fun.  

“Oh, that reminds me,” mused Julieta, “Casita, toffee?”

A wrapped toffee popped out of a grocery bag and flew into her hands. She unwrapped it.

“In a pandebono?” said Bruno. “That’s definitely mmphh!”

Julieta shoved it into his mouth. She stared at him intensely until he chewed and swallowed. She continued to stare for a few seconds.

“Ah, well, it was a thought,” she shrugged, shaking her head and turned away. “Camilo, are you done?”

“Nearly, Tía Julieta!”

“You don’t know that didn’t work,” protested Bruno.

“Of course I know. Look at you. Camilo, show him.”

“Infirm old man comin’ right up!” Camilo shapeshifted into Bruno as he brought over the mixing bowl. Bruno put his hands over his face.

“You’re exaggerating,” sighed Bruno, without much hope.

Camilo responded by throwing his hand back on his face and swooning, giving a couple of exaggerated death-coughs, and saying, in Bruno’s currently hoarse voice. “ I am dying, Egypt, dying; only here importune death awhile, until - “

“Knock knock knock knock knock! Knock on wood! Don’t do that!” Bruno, without opening his eyes, knocked on the table, then his head, then placed his hand back over his face.

Julieta laughed. “Camilo, be kind!”

Camilo shifted back. “I’m giving Tío Bruno the pleasure of my company.”

“If you being here is a gift,” Mirabel called over, “Imagine how much you could brighten up Tío Bruno’s day by leaving!” Camilo pursed his lips and blew a kiss to Mirabel, which made her flick a piece of wet eggshell at him and successfully hit his cheek. 

“Focus, you two, we have some very important work to be doing.” Julieta’s face was crinkled in a smile that suggested she didn’t really mean this. 

Mirabel wasn’t sure what was so special about these pandebonos until her mother uncovered the platter with the blue cheese. She had to cover her nose. “What is that?”

“Oh, this was from when Luz was going through her cheese-making phase. She gave me this in return for healing her son a while ago. She had a very particular gift for making cheese.” Julieta laughed at the look on her daughter’s face. “It’ll taste good in the recipe!”

Casita was already heating up the oven and speeding up the heating process. The odor eased off as Julieta mixed and shaped balls out of the dough, but not as much as Mirabel would have liked. Eventually, with all of the grunt-work done, the three sobrinos and their uncle sat around the table and watched Julieta finish her work.

As Julieta arranged the pandebonos on a baking tray, Casita opened the oven door, and pulled in the tray when Julieta brought it over.

“I assure you,” she said, satisfied, “That if you put these out, rats will be able to smell them for miles.”

“Are they even still edible?” said Camilo. “They smell like feet.”

“They’re very nice, actually. The odor is deceptive. It would be very unkind to give the rats something that wasn’t tasty, wouldn’t it?” Julieta, having delegated all the dishwashing already, joined them at the table.

“I don’t think they’d notice,” said Mirabel.

“They would,” said Antonio and Bruno in unison. 

As the pandebonos baked, the smell - which was, admittedly, not that bad once you got used to it - began to float out of the oven and flood the room.

“Sheesh, even I can smell that,” said Bruno.

“I gotta ask,” said Camilo, “Who’s Luz?”

“Oh, you know, Luz Zacarias Ramos, the dairy farmer’s wife. They have a son about your age, I think. Lorenzo?”

Mirabel, without meaning to, made a high-pitched noise of distress.

Her family turned to stare at her.

“Mirabel?” said her mother.

“Is everything okay?” said Bruno.

Mirabel, with four pairs of eyes boring into her, felt her palms start to sweat. “Oh? What? Me? I’m fine, what?”

“You look like you just sat on a nail,” said Camilo.

Mirabel was saved from further interrogation by a jingling and the sound of a meow. A fluffy white cat, a little bell tied around its neck with a ribbon, leapt onto the kitchen windowsill, its tail raised in a sort of self-assured way.

“Señora Mia!” Antonio got out of his chair. Mirabel, glad of the distraction, got up with him.

“Is this your friend? Oh, what a cute cat! Hello, precious!”

Señora Mia purred and rubbed her face on the wall.

“What are you doing here?” said Antonio. Señora Mia didn’t make any noise, but she did flop onto her side when Mirabel started petting her. “Uh-huh... But... where was that?”

Señora Mia turned and exposed her belly. When Mirabel touched it, the cat grabbed Mirabel’s hand with her claws. “Ow! Hey!”

“Oh, that makes sense,” said Antonio brightly. “Thank you! Would you like some food?”

“Toñito,” chided Julieta, “Cats shouldn’t eat bread.”

“She could have some cheese, couldn’t she?”

Julieta looked uncertain. Señora Mia meowed. “Well... I suppose. They can drink milk, can’t they?”

“They can’t digest lactose, but that won’t become mainstream information until...” Bruno began, paused, tilted his head back, and sneezed. He gave a frustrated sniffle. “Augh! Dios mío! What was I saying?”

“Salud,” said Camilo, “Nothing that made sense.”

Antonio fed Señora Mia a crumb of cheese and she jumped off the windowsill. She trotted off back to the town with her tail in the air. 

“What did she want?” asked Mirabel.

“She wanted to know what the smell was,” said Antonio. Camilo laughed.

“Well, it works!”

“I think they should come out,” said Julieta, “You could try one, you know, we don’t have to give them all to the rats.”

“Eh, if there are any left once they’re back,” said Bruno.

“I was talking to the kids. You’re trying one right now. Here, eat this - “

“Let it cool down first!”

Camilo found Antonio tugging on his ruana again, to his surprise. He looked at his little brother expectantly, but Antonio just pulled him out of the kitchen, out of earshot of the rest of the family.

Camilo bent down to let Antonio whisper.

“The smell,” said Antonio, “Señora Mia says that’s what the rats have been following.”

“What?”

“This recipe, it’s the one that the kidnappers are using.”

Camilo paused.

“Kidnappers?”

“It’s kidnapping,” said Antonio seriously. Camilo shrugged. He’d have called it stealing, or maybe just pest control, but Antonio didn’t need to hear that.

“So someone’s using rotten pandebonos to take the rats at night?”

“I think so.”

Camilo frowned. Well... that was weird. But who was he to argue with the cat?

“I guess that narrows things down,” he said, “We can ask who else has the recipe.”

Antonio shook his head. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Mirabel got very upset when you mentioned Luz Zacarias Ramos,” said Antonio. “And... Tía Julieta says Luz gave her the cheese and the recipe as a thank-you. So there’s probably not that many people who know it except her.”

Camilo paused.

He wasn’t expecting Antonio to be perceptive enough to pick up on that. But yes, Mirabel had reacted funny. That was a mystery for later. For now, he was seeing what Antonio was suggesting.

What was it Lorenzo had told him earlier? That he had a plan?

“We can keep it a secret between you and me,” murmured Camilo, “Just sneak off and investigate the dairy farm ourselves. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Boys?” called Julieta from the other room.

Camilo and Antonio went back in. 

“They’re ready,” said Julieta, “What do you want to do with them?”

“We’ll take them,” said Camilo. He rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got a plan, don’t worry.”

Julieta had to stifle laughter as she watched her two nephews setting off with a bag full of pandebonos, on a quest to find a bunch of missing rats. Mirabel took one of them, announced she was going to go look for any errant rats still in the house and secure them, and left. 

This was around the time she would usually be getting home, and very soon the rest of the family would be returning too. Soon the house would be bustling, and there would be things to do again. But for a few minutes, she was alone with her brother.

She made a pot of tea. Even when she had free time, Julieta liked to make things and serve them. It made people happy, but more importantly, it made her happy. (Not that Bruno didn’t sound like he needed something hot to drink.)

She spooned honey into his cup and passed it to him, watching carefully as he sipped. The pallor of his face didn’t change. The chapped red parts of his face stayed red. She shook her head. It was a mystery to her. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

“They’re funny, aren’t they?” she said to him. “The kids. Always up to something.”

Bruno sniffed. Julieta suddenly worried he was upset, but then he chuckled.

“Isabela and Dolores used to be the same,” he said, “Do you remember? Doing something crazy, Luisa running around trying to stop them...”

“Oh, they were chaotic,” she smiled, “And you’d have to tell Luisa she wasn’t in trouble because she’d cry if either of us said it.”

“I used to carry her on my shoulders.” He looked wistful. “She could carry me on her shoulders now. ...Well, she could do that back then too, but I didn’t fit that well...”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment. Outside the sun was starting to set. 

“I’m glad, you know,” she said, “That... Well, I mean, there are many things I’m glad about, with you back here with us. But I’m glad you and Mirabel have become so close.”

Bruno smiled. “She’s a good kid.”

“She always reminded me of you.”

Bruno raised his eyebrows. “Uh... Because we were both outcasts?”

“Bruno! No, of course not that. Well... not entirely.” Julieta sighed. “She’s clever, and she thinks more than Augustín and I. And her sisters. She reminds me of you, the way she gets so far away sometimes. I used to wonder how you would get along, if you ever... Well, anyway, it makes me happy, seeing you two. I wish I had more time to spend with you.”

Bruno was silent in response to that, just sipped his tea, but the set of his face said, yes, me too.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her today,” said Julieta, “I don’t know what’s bothering her, but I hope she says something soon.”

“Whenever she’s ready,” said Bruno. “There’s no rushing the future.”

Julieta nodded. Outside the kitchen, the clatter of approaching footsteps heralded the rest of the family arriving home, and she stood up to make dinner as Bruno slipped away. There were always things to do.