Chapter Text
Mirabel hated when her mami and papi went on “date nights”.
She’d sit on her mami’s bed, watching her put on her makeup and pin her hair up, which was nice. But once her mami was all dressed, she and Papi would kiss her on the cheek and tell her to be good for her tíos and tía before leaving for the night.
Tío Félix was her favourite grown up to have in charge. He cooked almost as well as mami and he played games with them that were actually fun. He was also the most likely to let them stay up a little later than their bedtimes if Abuela was already asleep.
Tía Pepa wasn’t too bad, even though she always made them say the longest bedtime prayers and didn’t let Mirabel sleep in Camilo’s cool new room. She did sing the best though, and she’d usually let Mirabel have as many lullabies as she wanted when her parents were out for the night.
Tio Bruno wasn’t responsible for any grown up stuff but he sort of still counted as a grown up in charge. Mirabel liked him the least because ever since her gift ceremony, Tío Bruno had started trying to keep her company in the nursery. He only ever wanted to play boring games but because he was technically a grown up, she couldn’t really say no.
Once he was gone, Mirabel played with her dolls before Tía Pepa came to put her to bed. She’d run through her usual games when she decided to try Tio Bruno’s game again. She took the dollys’ clothes off, but realized that it was hard to remember exactly how the game worked. She did however, remember some of what Tío Bruno liked to say when they played. She was pressing the dolls together and trying to mimic his gravely voice when there was a sudden crack of thunder above her head.
Mirabel jumped and looked up to see her Tía Pepa frozen at the doorway, eyes narrowed. “Mirabel, what were you doing just now?”
She was mad. Mirabel wasn’t sure why, but she was suddenly embarrassed about the game she was playing. “Nothing.”
Pepa shut the door and moved towards her. “Do not lie to me. What were you doing with those dolls?”
Mirabel stared at the floor. She could feel her Tía looming over her, but maybe if she just ignored her-
“Mirabel!”
Mirabel flinched as Tía Pepa picked her up and sat her on the edge of her bed. It was harder to avoid looking at Pepa now, because she was kneeling on the ground in front of her and holding her shoulders.
“Mirabel, look at me.”
Mirabel wanted to, she really did, but she just wanted Tía Pepa to leave, to stop trying to make her tell what she was doing because Mirabel was sure it would only get her into more trouble.
“It was just a game,” she mumbled into her lap.
She thought that would be enough. Maybe this was Tía Pepa trouble, one of those things she got mad at but the other adults didn’t, like sitting crosslegged or falling asleep in church.
Mirabel twisted around to curl up in bed, hoping that would be enough to end the conversation, only for her tía to pull her back upright.
“Mirabel, who taught you that game?”
“I’m sleepy!” Mirabel whined, tears filling her eyes.
“You cannot go sleep until you answer me Mirabel Madrigal.”
Mirabel tried to tug her arm free. “I don’t know!”
“Yes you do, stop lying to me.”
Mirabel couldn’t do anything but cry. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t even want to play Tío Bruno’s stupid game and now she was getting yelled at for it.
“No one.” This might be Tía Pepa trouble, but if she told she’d get into trouble with Tío Bruno and then probably her mami too for not listening to any of the grown ups tonight.
Tía Pepa’s face softened. She closed her eyes and reached into her pocket for the rosary she always had on hand. Pressing it to her lips she muttered something Mirabel couldn’t hear.
When she looked up and it was almost like all the anger had evaporated, if not for the dark cloud that still rumbled above them.
Pepa gently took Mirabel’s hands in her own, rubbing her thumbs over the backs of them.
“Mira, I’m sorry for yelling. I got scared when I saw you playing that game because only bad girls play it, and I know you’re not a bad girl.”
Mirabel felt a fresh wave of tears. Why would tío Bruno teach her a game that only bad girls play?
“I didn’t want to! I don’t want to play bad girl games, I’m sorry!”
Pepa pulled her into a hug and Mirabel melted into her arms, crying onto the front of her dress.
“I know Mirabel, I know,” Pepa said, stroking her back gently.
She held Mirabel for what felt like hours, letting her sobs die into tearful hiccups before continuing. “I’m going to help you mija, so that you never play those games again okay?”
Mirabel nodded into her chest.
“You have to tell me who taught you the game though, and anyone else you’ve played with. Even if they’re someone you love very much, you can’t lie, understand?”
Pepa’s body tensed when Mirabel finally mumbled Bruno’s name.
“Am I in trouble?”
Pepa’s arms tightened around her. “No, Mirabel. You won’t get into trouble because we’re not going to tell anyone, okay?” She kissed the top of Mirabel’s head, then cupped her cheeks. “No one needs to know about it because you’re going to be a good girl from now on, right?”
Mirabel nodded.
They sat together on the bed, less tense now that Tía Pepa wasn’t yelling. They said the rosary and Mirabel didn’t complain or try to skip a Hail Mary like she usually did.
She was starting to see why Tía Pepa liked praying so much. She’d felt awful before. Tío Bruno’s games made her feel strange and dirty and Tía Pepa’s reaction only confirmed that what she’d been doing was wrong. But as they prayed together and Tía Pepa stroked her hair and promised to protect her, that feeling started to fade. She could be good again. Tía Pepa said so, and it felt like being pulled out of a hole she didn’t even realize she’d fallen into.
When they finished, Tía Pepa kissed her head again. “Good girl, Mira. Now get some sleep, I’m taking you to church with me tomorrow.”