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Chapter Text

Mirabel trudged back into the cold, barren walls of her bedroom and flopped down on her bed. Today's chores were exhausting and she was not even done. But she wanted rest. Only a few minutes rest and everything would be fine.

Until her eyes slid closed. She had fallen asleep. Her breath puffed out in light, transparent gusts as her chest rose and fell; almost mimicking the action. 

Minutes or hours could have left her guarded hold before the loud stomping echoed through the hallowed halls of the house. The boots were mud-caked and heavy with ululation.

”You’re sleeping?” Rico Pelotón, Mirabel’s padre, barked when he came sailing through Mirabel’s door. “It’s not even dinner yet, you lazy Mono!”

Delirious, Mirabel shot up in bed. Sleep heavy in her eyes and spit pooling around the corners of her mouth, the girl stood quickly onto her feet. Though the attempt at, or at least the fleeting hope of, making herself look alert failed as her legs immediately quivered; she toppled onto the floor in a mess of terrified limbs.

”Padre!” Mirabel gasped as though she had never felt the relief of fresh air. “I - I was just—“

”Get the fuck to your feet!” Rico’s eyes flared. He did not give Mirabel even a dying second before he was thrusting her up with one hand clasped around her denim overall strap. “Do you take me as a joke? Do you think that I will just let you laze around while I do all of your chores?”

His breath was hot and pungent with a scent that made Mirabel’s gut lurch. “N - No I - I….” She was grasping at straws. There was nothing she could to do save herself. “Lo Siento, padre. Por favor. Lo siento.” 

The words were a futile attempt at regaining, the already lost, warmth of an enrapturing dream. She wished she could have been dreaming in this moment.

”Sorry won’t help you now. You need to be properly punished.” His words were firm, but his hand was solid. Rico back handed his hija.

The nauseating taste of the only thing constant in her life stained her tongue and wedged between her teeth. Her tongue glided across the ridges of her lips; almost retreating as it licked over the fresh split.

Rico’s belt was unclasped and twirled taught around the palm of his hand. “You will learn to obey me.” He spat and belted down on his hija's back.

~~~

Standing encumbered in the long line of Señora Julieta’s food stand, Mirabel avoided anyones eye. It was bad enough to be the spawn of the Pelotóns; it was worse to let people know what they did to her. 

The line shuffled slow—if at all. The sun felt as if it was mocking her with its rays. It beat down hard on the fresh wounds caressing the dark skin of her back. Though she though not of herself as a person, but a mere canvas made of trepidation and horrid attributes.

”Oh, cariño, what happened to your lip?” Señora Julieta asked. 

Mirabel’s caged walls had nearly broken upon hearing such words. They were not the sere demands she was used too. “I fell coming down a tree and my teeth came down hard.” The lie left behind an acidic eidolon on the folds of her mouth.

Julieta had almost laughed when Mirabel told the lie. Mirabel knew she could not and would not fault her if she had. For she did not know the real reason Mirabel was standing on the other side of Julieta’s table. 

“Here, take an empanada.” She handed the treat over, scanning the girls face for any other indication of injury. “Do be careful next time!” She called after the girl, who scurried away as soon as the treat was in her grasp.

Mirabel slinked away behind a building and took the nearest path way into the growing mirth of trees. Biting down on the empanada, Mirabel had it finished off in mere seconds.

It was the only thing she had eaten all day.

The feeling of new skin stitching up the old left an unsavory sensation on the tips of her skin. She could not complain; it was better than howling open wounds fresh with irritation.

”As long as I make it to eighteen.” Mirabel whispered under her breath the moment the rough bark was under the fingertips. She roped her way up to an extended branch that housed leaves to be lofted around by the soft winds.

She straddled either side and let her back rest easy on the sturdy wood. The sun was still high; gleaming in all its glory. While she, broken and tattered, obscured her truths in the veiling darkness. 

“As long as I make it to eighteen…”

Chapter Text

Dolores hiked her skirt up just enough to not get the bottoms caked in dirt as she hurried through the…less desirable part of town. Not that anything was terribly wrong, but it was on the far end where lots of mud and mushy land hugged the feet of Encanto’s residents.

She had one errand she promised Abuela she would complete before the sun went down that day; she never broke promises. Strands of coiled hair lofted down unto her eyes as she near skipped down the path—as in brown sunken in mud with lumps of concrete here and there.

Maybe Lusia could help with reconstruction? She scoffed in spite of herself the moment that thought crossed the ridge of her brain. That girl does too much as is. No need for a pointless task that any other team of people could do.

In her self-centered state a hiss type sound interrupted the freight train of thoughts. Her ears perked and honed in on the sound. 

“Fuck….that hurt.”

The twenty one year old stopped in her tracks as soon as she heard what the voice had said. It sounded familiar yet foreign enough to not call on any memories. She decided to hone in a tad more before making any assumptions.

”Okay…Okay. I’m good. We’re good. Everything is good. I am fine. The wood is safe. Great.”

The voice sounded panicked yet relieved all in the same breath. Though, the slight quiver did not make Dolores’s stomach simmer. 

Her promise to Abuela could wait.

She let her skirt fall as she advanced towards the thick mirth of trees. Brown eyes darted around; unfocused as they went. She did not know what she was looking for, but she knew she had to be looking.

One hand around her ear, Dolores used the other to move leaves and branches obstructing her path.

Then rapid crushing of leaves was an onslaught to her ears. There was no time to focus as suddenly she was being take down to the ground. Twigs, leaves, and slushy mud broke her fall.

Dolores hissed as the action throbbed the inside of her ears. Face scrunched, Dolores cracked an eye open to look at what—or who—tackled her to the ground. Speaking of which, her favorite dress was now stained and would take forever to scrub clean.

”Oh, lo siento mucho, señorita!” 

Dolores looked at the girl sprawled out not four feet from her. The questions began to rise like humid steam. Señorita? No one calls her that except the Abuela and Abuelos of the town. In fact, she’s never heard anyone call her that since she was about seventeen.

She did not miss the pale face the young girl wore either. “Señorita?” Dolores said with half a chuckle. “No need for that. Just call me Dolores.”

The young girl lurched quickly to her feet, barely taking the time to wipe herself off, and stuck out her hands for Dolores to take.

”Lo siento! Lo siento. I didn’t see you. Of course that’s not an excuse—it never was—but I…” Mirabel struggled to find words as the twenty one year old stared at her with wide, dark brown eyes. 

She reeled in shock.

”Señori— Dolores?” Mirabel was becoming frantic as the sun was setting, the woman in front of her was frozen, and she did not have the wood for the furnace! Papa was already furious with her; giving him another reason to be was a one way trip to sleeping on the river banks for a week.

Mirabel gulped, her memory flashing back to the last time it happened…she was not making papa that mad again.

”Señ— Dolores? Are - Are you okay? Please, I - I need to go but I can’t if you’re like this and it’s my fault!”

Mirabel figured if the other Madrigals found out why Dolores came home late and covered in mud it would be a sure fire way of having an early funeral.

Dolores blinked herself back into her own head and got up without the help of the young girls outstretched hand. “I - I am fine. No need to worry.” She almost gasped. 

Mirabel seemed to not have believed Dolores as she shifted from one foot to the other. “Are you sure? Oh, look at your clothes! They’re ruined! I - I can pay for new ones. Just give me a price, any price and I’ll—“

”Stop.” Dolores blurted out. The mannerism and nervous flinching of the girl made her uneasy. “My clothes are fine. Are you?”

Eyes wide, Mirabel took an uncertain step back. It was filled with shock and utter disbelief. No one had ever asked if she was okay before. It burned her throat in such a way that she could not decipher if it was acid or the antidote.

”What…?” She rasped out in a voice that suited her caged and cowering frame. 

Dolores shuffled towards the girl but nearly jumped back when she flinched away hard enough to shock the feathers off birds. “Are you okay?” She gulped. “You took that fall about as hard as I did. Say, what’s your name?” Dolores’s interest in the girl was growing to its formal peak.

As foreign as they were, the words muddled Mirabel’s brain even harder. No one had ever been kind in a way that made her want to scream for a hug yet drown in self isolation simultaneously. Not even Señora Julieta had been this kind.

”M- Mirabel.” She said. Thought it felt as if she had been momentarily stripped of all humanly assets and made to be a puppet as the words left her mouth. “I - I am Mirabel. And I am perfectly fine, but I cannot stay.”

She hurriedly picked up the stray, scraggly pieces of wood she had previously been lugging around. Dolores stood helpless to the thought of watching Mirabel balance weight that surely had to have been as heavy as her and uncomfortable.

”Do you need help?” 

Mirabel fumbled a long twig, barley catching it on the back of her hand. She breathed a sigh of relief, “No. I don’t need help. I’ve got to go.”

She picked her pace up; careful as to not drop a single piece of wood. She could not afford coming home with inadequate amounts of wood. It was horrible enough that she forgot the axe split wood, it would be worse if the furnace went out in the middle of the night; making the stove rendered useless for morning breakfast.

Mama would have a field day with colorful words and papa would tan her hide so bad he’d burn it.

A painful knot settled within her gut. She had to get home.

”Why do you have so much wood?” Dolores asked. She had caught up to the girl—her unease was mounting its ugly head. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

”The wood goes into the furnace at home. No wood means the furnace can’t be used. No furnace means my house can’t function properly. No house— never mind.”

Mirabel bit down on her tongue and continued down the eroding earth. “I’m sorry again for knocking into you. I’d understand it if you had your mama come and punish me.”

Heart sinking as low as the ground, Dolores’s lips pursed as a high grumble spilled past her lips. “What? Why would I do that?” 

Mirabel did not even give the woman a second thought before the words were tumbling out unceremoniously. “Because I did something wrong. And wrong means punishment….does it not?”

Mirabel stopped abruptly; letting the confused words of Dolores seep into her skin. She looked at the panting woman and felt her face heat into oblivion. “I’m sorry. Forget it. Forget I said a word.”

She jerked around harshly and sped away. The wood bounced with each new step the girl took.

Dolores did not even try to bother with catching up. She had too many thoughts coveting her mind. Most of them ached duly in the center of her chest.

Mirabel was willing to be punished for something so minor it did not make sense. If she were honest, it looked like the girl expected it.

She’d admitted to it!

She could not wrap her head around the enigma the girl spun herself in. Webbed in it like she was the insect in a spiders silk. Trapped; screaming; choking; begging to be let go.

She vigorously shook her head, cleansing herself of those thoughts. She’d dig deeper at home.

After getting a shower and change of clothes.

Chapter Text

Rivets of water droplets sporadically dripped off the ends of Dolores's hair; exploding on the floor poignantly. She may have been able to wash the mud off of herself, but she could not escape the push and pull ripple effect going on between her head and chest. 

It was time to dig deeper. After all, she was known to be nosy.

"Tia?" She asked, rearing up behind Julieta in the kitchen. "I have a question." She decided to perch herself near the arch way, leaning the small of her back on the counters edge.

Julieta gave a mere hum and turned around to face her sobrina, "Si?" 

"Do you happen to know anything about a girl named Mirabel?" Dolores's voice was full of questionable hope. If there was one person besides herself that knew everyone, it was Tia. Everyone gets hurt at some point in their lives and some more than others. 

The response was almost thoughtless and instantaneous, "Yes, why? She's the Pelotons' girl. Did something happen?" Julieta was known to worry; always jumping the gun before the bullet could be loaded in.

Dolores did a finicky shake with her hand, brow creasing as well. "I mean, I saw her today out in the woods. Something felt wrong--just don't know what."

"I saw her today too. She came around to my stall at about four. Had a nasty cut on her lip."

Tiny tendrils of diluted worry began to claw at Dolores's ankles; she straightened up. "Oh, Why?"

Julieta moved to the cupboard to fish out a mug with swirls of complicated designs, "She said she fell out of a tree." She filled the cup with water and sipped on it. Though, she did not stay relaxed for long. "Which, undeniably, is weird because that's the third time this week she's come to me with the same excuse."

Brown eyes widening; showing a dim, silver lining of fear, Dolores cocked her head to the side. Make no mistake, people have come and gone frequently for minor injuries, but to have the same excuse? It does not make sense. The girls who attitude and enigmatic movements made no sense. It's like there's something she wants to be kept hidden; stuffed under the floorboards to be forgotten about. 

"Is everything okay?" Julieta was urging to her sobrina's side; her mug lay abandoned in the sink. "Dolores, did something happen with Mirabel?"

The sudden and nauseating rush of armed confusion left Dolores to fish for syllables. Her head was muddled with thoughts and loose ends that frayed near the tips, making it impossible to connect them. "No. No, nothing to be worried over. I just ran into her today and she seemed freaked. That's all." She evaded the arms and eyes wrestling to keep her in place, hurrying back to her room.

Camilo came scurrying away from the blind spot around the dining rooms arch way, "Dolores!" He yelped. "Where are you going?" Smiling, he rubbed the back of his neck. 

Dolores rolled her eyes at the impish ways of her hermanito, "What are you doing eavesdropping on my conversation with Tia?" She jabbed her finger into his chest and stepped back with a penetrative glare. 

"No one lets me in on things!" He whined, peering up at his hermana while pulling at the rough neckline on his ruana. "I wanted to know what was going on." He finished with letting his head drop; a mane of curls followed after like his own personal posse.

"Maybe next time, don't wait around the corner." She pushed past him to start up the stairs.

"I've seen her you know?" Camilo called after. "Like around town and stuff. She never talks to anyone. She seems in a rush during all hours of the day; head down, mumbling to herself, and always rushing back towards the direction of her house." He shrugged; Mirabel was an afterthought to him. 

Hand midway to the banister, Dolores froze. The works of her brain sparked a fire; she was getting swallowed by the frayed, loose ends of this sinking mystery. Somehow, despite her whirling head, she made it back to the muted wonder she called her room. She was enveloped in a transparent hug that seemed to be coming from the natural warmth and white noise emitting outwardly into the room. The hoary lapse of today exhausted the girl in all aspects of social communication.

She needed to sleep. 

But as she lay in the weighted cushion of dreamscape, the assailant of questions came pounding on the lids of her eyes. Why was Mirabel ready to submit to the wrath of unjust punishment? Why had she expected it? The forlorn acceptance that gleamed in the young girls's eyes induced weary hesitance into Dolores's being. Why had Mirabel become a regular at Tia Julieta's stall?

Why was no one worried?

~~~

Mirabel shied herself away in her room. Padre was out at the bar and Madre had already told her she did not want to see Mirabel for the rest of the night.

It was honestly a blessing to Mirabel.

No padres around meant no chance of getting beat. She sighed softly as her head finally hit the worn sheathed stuffing of her pillow.

Today was one of the better days. Sometimes Padre felt that Mirabel needed to be taught an extended lesson and would bring her to the bar. She hated those days. Those days meant getting the acidic poison of alcohol forced down her throat while any one of Padres’s buddies screamed insults at her.

If Padre felt that Mirabel did not learn her lesson an extra beating would ensue while the distracted, intoxicated minds of the bar-goers laughed and laughed and laughed.

She shivered under the thin, tattered blanket covering her. Needless to say she was glad Padre skipped out on that extra lesson.

But that only let her mind wander off to the latent parts of her brain. The areas she condemned long ago.

The wishing well.

There’s been many lost coins of hope thrown into that part of her brain. And just as many have been abandoned; left to sit in the still darkness the reflective water had to offer.

Seeing Dolores today threw her off course. Guilt still wracked the vulnerable parts of herself. She wondered what it would be like if she was a Madrigal.

How different would her life be? Nothing short of a miracle she hoped. 

If she were Julieta’s daughter, she would have been deeply cared for and shown all the empathy one human can muster. The soft with tender love hands of the woman would never cease to show affection. 

If she were Pepa’s daughter, she would have been fiercely protected and closely watched. Pepa might not have always been around, but she could feel it in the air when one of her niños were in trouble. Maybe it was a perk that came with weather control. Or simple maternal instinct.

Something Mirabel’s madre, Gabriela, lacked.

A gust of wind blew tree leaves unto the closed window of Mirabel’s bedroom door. Suddenly, Mirabel was shocked back into the dusty corners of reality. She was no Madrigal. She was a Pelotón. And a disgraceful one at that. Or, at least, that’s what Padre tells her.

She’s inclined to believe it. Padres’ word is never wrong.

Never.

She turned over in her bed and let her eyes slip closed. The unorthodox dreams of her mind lured her into a facade of hopeful sleep.

Chapter Text

“Get out of my face, girl!” Gabriela hissed, throwing Mirabel out of the house by her overall strap. “Don’t come back ‘til you got me my cigarettes and the mulch for that back lawn!”

Mirabel nearly tripped down the small stoop on the dilapidated front porch. She nodded deftly at her madre.

She would do anything to keep madre happy. If madre was not content in her bubble of deceit then she’d go tell lies padre. Things have been better since that day she knocked into Dolores a few days back.

Mirabel had been out of the house more making herself useful with chores and farm work. Padre had only belted her once instead of daily. She could accept that.

The cacophony of the seemingly endless plaza muted all other aspects of thoughts. The base of her back only ached when her shirt shifted slightly. She decided against going to Señora Julieta’s stand; it would do no use and raise suspicion for her padres’s image.

Which was already close to the gutter.

The bell that guarded the top of the door rang when Mirabel opened the smoke shop’s glass double doors. She hated it in this store. Smoke hung thick in the air and suffocating depression derived from years of addiction and bad choices swarmed around her. She felt sticky.

”Two packs of Jose’s, please.” The order was automatic as Mirabel barely made it five feet into the shop. She wanted out as quick as possible.

The balding old man did not question the girl and reached behind him. He grabbed two red colored packets from the shelf holding many brands of flavored cancer.

Mirabel handed him the money as he threw the packets down. “Gracias.” Stuffing madres cigarettes in her pockets she was out the door.

~~~

Hung high and proud the sun blew its hot breath on Mirabel’s face as she trudged back towards her house; two mulch packs slumped over her shoulder.

They were heavy.

Complain she could not as she feared one of del padre buddies were disguised in a group of people watching her. It would not be the first time. Padre said he always had eyes on her.

She kept her head down and walked fast until the sound of a small child’s wails echoed out. Mirabel stopped dead in her tracks; scouring her eyes about. 

No one seemed to stop or care even as the cries got louder. She thought about leaving too. It was almost lunch time. She wanted to get home and eat before madre threw it out, figuring she was not coming home.

Nor had she eaten anything since the small empanada she got from Señora Julieta days prior.

She sighed, turning around to walk towards the boisterous cries. Damn her empathetic heart. If no one would be there for her, she’d be there for others even when she’d surely get her back blistered. It was padres favorite thing to do. She liked how much surface area overalls covered because of it.

“Hola..?” A timid mumble escaped her throat as she neared a small child wearing mostly red with a dark red bandanna around his neck. “Are you lost?”

The boy looked up at Mirabel, eyes filled with tears. He barely nodded as a fearful hum projected itself.

Mentally cursing herself, Mirabel set the mulch packs down against the wall. Madre isn’t going to like that she helped someone else before her own blood; it did not matter if it was a small child.

She knelt down to be faced with the boy and smiled at him. “What’s your name?”

”Antonio.” The small boy said.

It clicked. This was the youngest Madrigal. Mirabel did not know his age, but by the prominent evidence of no gift he was younger than five. “Okay, that’s okay, I can help you get home.”

Antonio instantly started to cry again at the mention of home. He did not know where he was, the direction of home, and the town was scary with all the tall people and loud voices!

Panicked, Mirabel backed up. “W- Why are you crying?” She sputtered. 

“‘Cause Milo said to stay wi’s him. And then I blinked and he was gone!” Antonio exclaimed, his little body trembling.

Mirabel almost yelled at the boy to stop crying. She didn’t know how to deal with crying. Padre always hit her when she cried as a young girl. 

But then reason forced its way into her thoughts, pulling her together. Antonio was lost. He’s a small child. He is allowed to cry. It must be scary for him not knowing anyone or where he was.

She breathed a few times and set her and upon his shoulder. “It’s okay, Antonio. Do you want to be brave for me?”

Antonio was reduced to sniffles when the girls calloused and boney hand rested on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but feel the lack of love it held. Half nodding, his lip quivered.

Mirabel broke out into a a grin that ceased all of the boy’s worries. “Good. Good. Hop on my back and I can take you to your house. Is that okay?”

The instant weight on Mirabel’s back answered for the boy. She bit back a gasp of pain when Antonio kneed the purple mark stretched across her back.

Mirabel went to stand, but the quick scurry of limbs hopping on her shoulders made her stay put.

”All good up there?” She asked with a laugh.

”Sí!” Antonio giggled, eyes wide. He’d never been so high before!

Mirabel gave one last glance at the sagged bags of mulch. Padre would certainly have some choice words with her when she came home late.

But Antonio needed her more. She’d take whatever was coming to her.

~~~

As soon as Mirabel came up the hill that Casita sat upon Antonio wriggled on her shoulders.

“Mama!” He squealed. It held such innocence and glee that only a small child unused to the vile actions of the world could have.

A red headed woman’s head snapped towards the two. Her fingers stopped dead in her hair which she previously used to card through it. 

Self-consciousness pooled in Mirabel’s chest. What if the woman was mad at her? What if she thought Mirabel did something to Antonio?

What if—

“Bebe!” Pepa all but yanked Antonio off the slender shoulders of Mirabel. “Where were you?” She asked, setting him on her hip and frantically checked him for any injuries.

When she found none, she exhaled a stale, exasperated breath and let her hijo snuggle under her chin.

Mirabel shifted nervously on two feet. She had almost made a break for it; she turned around and walked a half step. But Pepa grabbed her overall strap and yanked her back.

Mirabel yelped, her feet getting tangled in one another. Her eyes drilled closed as she waited for the inevitable lecture and maybe a backhand too.

”Gracias.” Pepa breathed into Mirabel’s ear as she hugged her tight. It was genuine and heartfelt.

It made Mirabel’s heart throb as she stood awkwardly frozen, squashed between two bodies.

When was the last time she’d been hugged?

The embrace did not last more than a few seconds, but they felt like centuries to the fifteen year old. When Pepa pulled away, she smiled at Mirabel.

”Where did you find him?”

Mirabel shrugged, working her mouth as she searched for the right words. “I - uh I heard him crying in the plaza. He said Camilo told him to stay with him but that he got lost.”

Pepa grit her teeth at the mention of Camilo being so careless. “Ay, that boy has it coming.” Sighing once more, Pepa started to walk into casita; she motioned for Mirabel to follow. “You must be hungry seeing as it’s lunch time. Come, nube.” 

Face heating as if she sat directly in the sun, the girl became a mess of flying limbs chasing after Pepa. “What?” Her voice lilted higher than its ever been.

Eyebrow raised, Pepa let Antonio down. “It’s only fair since you came all this way to bring me Antonio.”

Mirabel hung awkwardly by the entrance. Like she was a lie that had just been announced to everyone, she felt out of place. 

Casita thought otherwise. Tiles started to move, kicking Mirabel’s legs right out from under her. She fell into a chair that she swears had not been there when she entered the house.

Mirabel was freaked, but Pepa’s laugh made it seem like it was a regular thing. “Gracias, casita.” Pepa snorted while patting the wall.

A tile sprung out in response.

Now sat at the table, Mirabel twitched nervously. Her back ached, Padre was set to get home soon, madre was probably going insane without her nicotine fix, but Señora Pepa seemed so nice and was kind enough to feed her.

She wanted to bolt for the door the second Pepa’s back was turned, but she did not want to be perceived as a rude, ungrateful kid.

And Dolores came around the corner, blocking the only exit.

Mirabel kept her eyes locked on the fine wood the table was made of. The ridges were nice…

”You don’t have to be so scared.” Dolores whispered, sitting down next to the girl.

Mirabel did not utter even a single letter. It was a trick. It had to be. No one ever treated her this nice. Dolores probably told her mama what Mirabel had done and now they were going to punish her. She deserved it. She did.

”I can see the bruise…” Dolores admitted; head looking straight ahead and eyes down, Mirabel could believe the words were never said.

But then Dolores gave her a slight glance and Mirabel knew then that, even through all her attempts, it was a perilous battle she would never win. Maybe Dolores would keep it a secret. She prayed Dolores would. Mirabel adjusted her shirt collar and wrapped a hand around her middle.

Suddenly a plate of food was set before her. Pepa gave a smile that only the best of maternal figures could give. It came from the depths of experience. “Eat up.”

Mirabel did.

Pepa watched her eat every last bite with a satisfied grin. Dolores went and got her juice to go with the meal and stood back by her mother. Antonio made his cameo a few times when he came tearing around the house playing whatever game his imagination created.

~~~

”Thank you, Señora.” Mirabel muttered shyly. A hand came up to rub the back of her neck where a hidden bruise infected the area. 

Pepa place her hands on her hips, “Please, no need for Señora! Just call me Pepa.” Though she was not reprimanding the girl, her voice went mockingly firm.

Mirabel instantly grimaced; her posture stiffened. “Lo siento! I - I didn’t know…lo siento.” She finished lamely as the meal she had just eaten threatened to come up in chunks.

Pepa’s face when pale; Dolores side eyed her mama. “Oh, nube, I was kidding. I didn’t mean for you to think I was yelling at you.” She wore a long face that now was filled with deep remorse.

Mirabel could not form words, only mouthing something undecipherable and retreating her steps. Dolores looked at her with something that set her chest ablaze. No words needed to be said for the message the twenty one year old sent across.

”I - I have to go.” Mirabel mumbled. She turned and fled quickly.

She did not miss Bruno standing utterly lost outside; something was in his hands that he tried to hide behind his back.

It was emitting a green glow. 

Pepa sighed with a heavy heart and turned to go back inside. Dolores caught her mama’s arm. 

“Mama, Mirabel, she—“

”I know. I saw it too.” Pepa looked at Dolores with heavy set eyes. “I saw it when I grabbed her shirt to bring her back here.”

”It’s not just that.” Dolores was getting antsy, no longer able to hold in what she’d discovered since walking to the dining room.

”What else is there?”

”Her clothes. They - they’re old. She was wearing them when I knocked into her in the woods. They still have the dried mud on them.”

Pepa put her head into her hands, unable to support the sheer amount of thoughts bombarding her. 

“I’ll listen out. I’ve been suspecting this for a while now.”

Pepa nodded, grateful to have such an empathetic and caring hija. “Gracias.”

”De nada.”

Chapter Text

“Ay, Mono, where have you been?” Rico grumbled angrily the moment he heard the front door open.

Mirabel flinched at the nickname. She hated it. It’s all she ever gets called by her padres. Either that or ‘girl’.

Except, Pepa called her nube….it was a nice change.

”I was at the Madrigal’s.” She answered truthfully. It hurt worse to lie.

Both of her padres stopped to look at their hija. Gabriela put her magazine down and stood to stand against her husbands side.

Together they looked like an impenetrable wall. A wall held together by the mist of alcohol and malevolence. Mirabel new long ago that as long as that wall stayed standing, she would forever be alone.

No one would ever break through and see the truth.

”What did you tell them, girl?” Gabriela hissed, her eyes narrowing around Mirabel’s being. 

“N - Nothing! I swear! Antonio got lost and I took him home.” She warbled, hands half raised in defense. She hoped they’d take pity on her since it was a small child she helped.

”How do we know you ain’t lying?” Rico roared. Mirabel flinched. His voice was the loudest and scariest. 

Eyes cast downward, Mirabel mumbled, “I didn’t tell them anything…”

”Speak up! You know I hate your mumbling, Mono!” 

Mirabel clenched her fists around the coarse material of her overalls and chewed the inside of her cheek. “They didn’t see a thing. I didn’t tell them a thing.” The waiver of her voice spoke the volumes her padres needed to hear. Even if half of her sentence was a lie. Dolores saw. That thought scared her more than the tall frame of her father.

Gabriela scoffed and fixed her lipstick smudges in the glass frame around a wooden case. “Did you ‘least get the mulch and smokes I sent you down for, girl?”

The thudding squelch of her heart was the only thing Mirabel could focus on. She forgot the mulch down in town.

”I - I got the cigarettes….But I forgot the mulch.” She admitted, stuffing her hands into her pockets so Padre would not see them trembling.

An angry roar-like noise came from the depths of Rico’s furious heart. In one fast movement he swiped everything off of the nearby coffee table.

Wine and cigarette ashes stained the worn blue carpet below.

”Can you do anything right?”

”Padre I - I-“ Mirabel backed herself against the cool surface of the front door.

”Stop your stuttering! Your madre asks one thing from you and you can’t even do that? How pathetic—“

”Wait just a minute, Rico.” Gabriela’s giggle broke the tsunami of tension. “Maybe she did do something right.”

”And what would that be?”

”She helped the Madrigals, it’s only fair they help us.” She purred at her husband; her head sat at an angle that showed off her side profile.

Rico Barely considered what his wife was implying. “We don’t take charity. This one, will learn that.” His rough hand pointed in Mirabel’s direction.

She wondered if they ever once touched something with compassion, not violence.

“She’s coming with me to the bar.”

It was final. His tone held all the confirmation Mirabel needed. Her fate was sealed by the strong effect of acidic alcohol.

Gabriela did not show an ounce of remorse for the girl. Instead she threw a careless hand behind her back as she went down the hall.

”Don’t punish her too hard. I need that back garden fixed up before winter.”

~~~

”Sit down and shut up.” Rico growled, tightening his grip on Mirabel’s slender shoulder as he pushed her into a chair. “Don’t move either.”

When Padre walked away, Mirabel could not help but to have her leg start to shake. Her brain was riddled with anxiety as she pondered upon the events of the day.

Specifically the mere two hours she spent at the Madrigal’s residence.

It was so warm and…alive; metaphorically and literally. The soft, inviting hug that Pepa gave her.

She wanted to go back. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the sentient house of dreams. She felt like her dreams could come true in that house. 

There was a vast difference between the ways Pepa and Padre touched her. She screamed for the wonders of Pepa’s amiable hands.

”Drink up, Mono!” Padre came back with drinks and forced one into Mirabel’s hand.

Mirabel looked at the drink with distaste. But, as to not make her father angrier than he was, she held her tongue and chugged the bitter liquid.

She could feel the years worth of hate and regret slide down her throat.

~~~

She did not know how many drinks she had, nor did she know how long she had been there, but she wanted to leave.

She wanted to vomit.

The lack of food and intolerance mixed to make her stomach lurch for relief. 

“Come on, chug it you little bitch!” One of Rico’s buddies screamed in her ear. It startled Mirabel; she dropped the bottle.

Beer ran down her chin and spilled down her shirt as the glass shattered to the floor. 

Rico heard the commotion. His angry footsteps barely rang in Mirabel’s ears before he punched her.

The world became a blur of drunken bodies and bright lights when the trash littered floor came to hug her.

Blood splattered across the skin of her face. A nauseating throb exploded throughout the muscles of her nose. 

”That’s what you get for being a clumsy, useless Mono!” Spit flew out of the corner of Rico’s mouth as he screamed; his face went bright red. He only calmed when Isidro, the buddy that screamed in Mirabel’s face, patted Rico’s shoulder and stuffed another beer into his hands.

”Dios, if I’d had a boy,” Rico laughed to Isidro. “My life would be so much better.”

That statement hurt Mirabel more than anything. She loved her Padres. But she knew they’d never love her back. Mirabel knew and accepted that she was only a liability to them.

She’ll never be enough. Never.

There is always something she cannot achieve. The most impertinent one was not being the bundle of joy they’d wished for. 

They wanted a boy.

Mirabel let out a groan of warped pain as she got to her knees. Her vision was tunneled, food and alcohol stained her clothes, and the feeling of vomit never left.

Two hands grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled Mirabel to her feet. The quick motion scrambled the lack of solid contents in her digestive system. She was sure her face had turned green with sickness.

”Have a smoke kid!” A woman twice her age meweled against the tip of Mirabel’s ear. The hot breath was sticky on her skin.

The woman shoved a lit cigarette into Mirabel’s mouth and held it closed. The fifteen year old had no time to spit it out; the woman’s hand was strong against her cheeks

Mirabel, having no other choice, breathed in deeply. Nicotine and the metallic taste of blood coated the layers of her mouth.

The woman did nothing but hold the girls mouth shut and howl with laughter. Mirabel started to squirm and kick and gasp for any resemblance of solace.

Only after the cigarette was near done did the woman let go and double over in flamboyant giggles.

Mirabel spit the cigarette out and shoveled fresh air into her lungs. The smoky taste did nothing to ease her writhing stomach. She bolted for the doors and, in her drunken state, hit the wall and collapsed out of the establishment.

”Ah, come on, kid! Have a little fun!” The woman called after Mirabel in a coy, drunken giggle.

The words sounded like a muffled gargle as Mirabel fell into the grass and projectile vomited all over herself.

The sickness came in waves and washed through her quickly. But, by the end of it, her energy was spent.

Crawling over to the side of the building, she fainted.

Blood and vomit painted her clothes like an abstract art picture. Though hers would surely be horrendously mocked by the harsh tongues of critics.

Her life was a broken nightmare masked by the darkness.

She wondered if her hope of living to see eighteen was possible…

Chapter Text

The vexed darkness held a slight shift in the air. A permeated green glow whispered along with it. He knew the green. The glass of green hatred has been an old friend.

The kind of friend that never makes good decisions; always alluding you away from the good.

Bruno was never good.

The frigid air of his cave pressed small kissed to the nape of his neck as he stared down at the future before him. Nimble hands that had been worn away by time cradled the vision.

It was her.

It had always been her.

Ever since Julieta and Pepa helped bring her into this world the future nagged at his head. The strings attached were always pulled taught.

He tried to suppress it. He had been successful many times. But the future was known to be mischievous and unsuspecting.

It was always one step ahead.

Four other tablets of green misfortune lay around him in a circle. He was always the sacrifice; he was always sat in the middle.

The barrier between present and unknown. The unchanging constant. 

Legs curled around one another, the vision fell into them. Black, stringy curls egg shelled around the edges of his clenched jaw. It wouldn’t be going away.

It wouldn’t be changing.

He felt sick at the thought of the many years he indirectly put her through. The sting of his throat told him it was time.

The green truth had to be told.

~~~

Brown, squinted eyes owlishly darted around. It was high noon before she’d woken up. a sere coating lacerated her throat while the sweat was waxy on her skin.

It matted her hair.

She could barely mumbled a moan as the dilapidation of her front porch brought her comfort; for once. For once she mustered a slanted smile at the caved in steps, vine encumbered posts, and floorboards that creaked under a feathers weight.

She was home. Finally.

She could shower and rid herself of the muck that yesterday shoved her in. Somewhere along the way she’d completely stripped of her clothes and stumbled into the bathroom.

The mirror had been cracked—Padre did that—and the shower had a weak flow. But it was better than nothing.

The water did little to sooth the searing ache in her head or nose. It was broken. She did not need to be a doctor to know that. 

She took her time, thankful that both her madre and padre were out. She could wash the blood and vomit off, but she could not rid of the body ache that loved her like a bad habit.

…It was the only love she’s ever known. It held her when no one else would. It never left. It was too deep in love with her to see how toxic they were with one another; incompatible.

She dressed quickly. Torn denim overalls and a mop of wet, matted curls. She’d deal with them later. When she had one moment to herself.

Mirabel knew she could very well not go out in public with a swollen, slanted nose. 

Julieta’s stall it was.

Hopefully the lying would not decay her teeth overtime.

~~~

He couldn’t do it. 

They wouldn’t believe him.

Ever since Camilo’s birth his reputation had been forever banished to the gallows. It was hung, never to be redeemed.

The five vision tablets were loosely held between Bruno’s protruding ribs and scrawny arm; the man trembled on the other side of his door.

Sealed away from his family.

The future demanded him again the day she had shown up with Antonio in tow. Like that was some kind of trigger the bomb went off and he was thrust into an involuntary vision on his walk in the woods.

Vivid flashes of green figures and objects whizzed around; his eyes unable to follow. The puzzle had been created before his very eyes and he still did not understand.

Pepa’s lank cradled her, but she was…unconscious. Unaware.

It was unlike any other vision about her.

Through his debilitating migraine he ran back to casita only to catch the last of her conversation with Pepa and Dolores. He could only hide the truth so well on such short notice.

He was thankful she barely payed him any mind.

When his hand wrapped around his doorknob, the electric feeling of dread tingled his arm all the way up to his teeth. They chattered.

He was a coward.

They would not believe him.

He could not tell and have the disappointed glare thrown at him by his mamá.

The visions dropped; no sound was made as they fell into the open mouths of sand.

He had to find his sobrino.

~~~

“Oh Dios, what happened to you?” Julieta stroked Mirabel’s flushed cheek with the palm of her hand; fingers lightly brushed on her jaw.

Mirabel bit down on her lip. Unrelenting tears stacked behind her closed eyes; she looked away. 

The affection was a slight wisp of passion…she did not deserve it.

”I - I got into a fight.” The body ache surely did nothing to disprove of that. Maybe her teeth would rot right out of their chambers…

Julieta clicked her tongue, the clack prominent with disbelief. She took two fingers, set them gently under Mirabel’s chin, and guided her head back to look into Julieta’s eyes.

A beat of silence.

A grumble of impatient villagers waiting to get their fix.

A gust of light wind.

”You don’t have to answer.” Julieta mumbled finally. “But is there something going on at home?” She was low with her voice as she looked directly at the girl.

Her expression showed she was fully attentive and believing. 

She remembered the night with Dolores in the kitchen.

”It was a fight.” Mirabel insisted.

Julieta handed over the food. Mirabel took a halfhearted bite before she bolted for the woods.

The trail of evaporating tears wailed to have their story told. But no one came to listen.

~~~

”I need a favor.” Bruno licked his chapped lips. “Please.”

Camilo was immediately drew in by the almost plead of his tio. “I’ve got a shovel, a disguise, and an alibi.” 

Bruno guffawed at Camilo’s serious tone. “No! Nothing like that.” He rasped as he closed the door to Camilo’s room.

He could have sworn he saw his sobrino’s shoulders drop at the denial.

”You know Mirabel right?”

”Yeah….sort of.”

”Good. Good. Become friends with her.”

The head tilt should have snapped Camilo’s neck by the sheer force. “What?” He choked. “I - I don’t even know her!”

”You just said you did!”

”I said sort of!”

”It’s important okay? Please, just try and talk to her? If she rejects you I won’t ask again.”

Camilo was about to deny his tio and shut down any protests. But that’s when it hit him.

He had no real reason to say no.

Plus, it looked like the girl needed a friend anyway.

Sighing, his head dropped as a small approval pushed from his lips. Bruno’s eyes seemed to flare as he thanked Camilo and dashed out of the room.

Camilo did not even have a chance to utter a single word of inquiry before his door slammed shut.

He flopped on his bed and ran his fingers through the locks on his head.

Tio was a weird man. 

~~~

As Bruno scurried back into the enveloping darkness his room swallowed, thunder crashed from the pit of hell that Pepa called emotions.

He had no doubt it had to do with the five different visions of the same girl.

The only other constant in his web of futures.

Mirabel.

Chapter Text

“She had what?” The crack of thunder pierced sharply through the air. An electrical current stifled the air; so heavy it became hard to breath.

Julieta had not had a coherent thought since seeing the defeated, disfigured girl standing at her stall.

Julieta had lost count on how many times Mirabel had been there, an outstretched hand pleading for the rush of healing food.

But this time was different. Julieta had that feeling where she was not quite zoned in, not quite aware of the situation, but ridden with a lurching concern.

Julieta could chalk up the first few injuries to a clumsy kid. Happenstance. Kids have wobbly legs, especially when they’re growing. Scrapes and bruises happen when the curiosity overpowers self-control.

Until it did not feel like happenstance. The injuries became a frequent accessory. The ghostly shadow of caged tears begged for sweet relief; to be let go.

She had been suspecting something. How could she not? But there was simply no evidence. None at all.

Not even today when Mirabel showed up with a crooked, angry nose. 

Julieta’s legs had moved before she could get her head to think. The grumble of angry villagers sounded only as a bliss of muffled winds.

She was entranced by the raging river of crashing waters of thoughts. The words spilled out before a coherent sentence could be properly formed. 

“Mirabel..She had a broken nose. It looked…deliberate.”

A whoosh of cackling winds flapped the loose clothing of everyone in the courtyard. Pepa barely took the time to breathe, “Deliberate how?” It was not a question, but a demand.

”She said it was a fight, but something just felt off. The air felt constricting and the words rolled off her tongue in a practiced succession.” Julieta paused. Smoothing her apron out and licking her lips, she looked Pepa dead in the eyes.

Almost no words needed to be said.

”I don’t like her parents.”

A sinking anchor nestled in the bottom of Pepa’s gut. She knew where Julieta was heading and she did not like it.

And, as she looked around at the faces of her husband and eldest sobrina, she knew they had a similar feeling.

The words never needed to be said.

It was time to call a meeting among the adults.

~~~

“Ouch, casita!” Camilo hissed under his breath. “I’m trying to listen, leave me alone.”

He was fifteen and almost literally stuck in the middle. Too old for Antonio’s interests, but too young for his hermana and prima’s business.

It did not help that no one ever let him in on things. He felt out of place and almost alone. He had friends, but even then they had siblings they could relate too.

Some of them were twins!

He loved his family—do not ever even think he does not. But, they don’t exactly get how unseen he felt.

Which is why he’s bent over backwards with his head to the closed door, ear pressed up to it, and breath hitched to listen to the “Adult Do Not Enter This Room Until We’re Done, Understood? Meeting.”

“You absolutely suck at eavesdropping.” Dolores’s whisper-like voice came from behind him. It took a lot to not yelped when he spun around to be faced with the bored expression on his sisters face.

”Dolores!” He whisper shouted as he clenched a hand around his upper left chest. “What are you doing here?”

”Not eavesdropping that’s for sure.”

”Serious!”

”It’s seriously, not serious, Camilo.”

”What are they saying. I know you can hear them!”

Dolores sighed and cupped her ear around her right ear and listened for a few seconds. “They’re saying…”You suck ass at being quiet and it’s none of your business.”

Camilo whined an angry scoff at his sister, who looked at him with a cheeky smile. “You suck.” He barked.

“Camilo, it’s not exactly something you want to know…” She opened her mouth to continue speaking, but stopped. It a was not her place to say anything at all about the situation. She tossed a few words around her head before deciding on a simpler, vague explanation.

”At least not yet.”

”Whatever, Dolores, it’s not like I’m a child.” He grumbled through pursed lips and crossed arms. “I’m going into town. I’ve got someone to talk too.”

”Who is it?”

”I would tell you, but it’s not your business.” He walked briskly past her, deep in his displaced animosity.

”I heard tio talking to you.”

Camilo hurled around, looking questionably at the older girl. “You did? So you—“

”It’s good you said yes.” Dolores interrupted, walking up next to his side and linking their arms. “I’m coming with you.”

To town they went. In search for the girl that had indirectly turned their fictitious fantasies upside down; unbeknownst to them or the girl.

They had a friend to make.

~~~

”Mamá, I saw the bruise. It was intentional!” Julieta spat. She was like a piece of food in a slow cooker; marinating in her anger until it boiled over and exploded.

Alma sat tight-lipped and proper in her chair, “We don’t have proof, Julieta. We can not go accusing the good people of Ecanto with child abuse because of one injury.”

Pepa slammed her fist on the table, shooting up out of her chair; it crashed into the wall behind her. “That’s the thing! It was more than one bruise! Do you see the state she’s constantly in? I have never seen such a skittish little girl in my life.”

”I have fed that girl more than most.” Julieta’s tone was hard and direct.

Alma stood as well, looking more held together and stable compared to her daughters. “She’s a child, injuries happen.”

”I don’t like her there with her parents.” Pepa had that feeling. That maternal feeling that is derived from the mainstream of eternal motherhood. She only needed one lengthy interaction with the girl to know something was wrong.

She saw the purple mark left on the girls back. It was hard not too.

Félix saw that glint in his wife’s eyes. And when she had it, he knew the alignment of the world was off. When she had that look he got that feeling only parents could have.

Maybe that girl he’s never really seen did need out. 

His mother-in law was a complex character anyway.

~~~

”Do you have a minute?”

Camilo’s sudden intrusion made Mirabel’s heart soar through her throat. She flinched.

She was never a fan of sudden noises….

Dolores clenched her teeth at the skittish reaction. Camilo backed up due to fear. “Woah, woah, lo siento. Didn’t know you were a flincher!”

It was supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood. No one laughed; Mirabel looked away out of sheer guilt.

Dolores elbowed him in the side. “He means would you like to hang with us?”

Camilo took in a sharp breath while rubbing his side. “Yeah, that.” 

Mirabel barely thought about her answer; she picked the bags stuffed with supplies back up. “Can't…sorry. Have a ton of chores to do.”

Padre would have her head if she did not complete her tasks today. She did not want another night at the bar; she was still reeling from the previous one.

She’s never drinking after becoming of age. Never. Hangovers are not even the worst part. They never were.

Camilo was about to turn around and call it a day. He got rejected. Bruno only asked him to try, not persist.

But Dolores yanked him back with a forceful hand. “That’s okay. We’ll help you.”

Mirabel had no time to react before the bags were being ripped out of her hands and Dolores was asking where her house was.

She followed behind like a reprimanded puppy. So did Camilo.

~~~

”I will not be hearing of this any longer. We have no proof.” Alma’s voice was almost drowned out by the sheets of cold, pelting rain rallying down in the house.

”You know what? Fine! I know something is wrong and I’m getting to the bottom of this. You. Will not. Stop me.”

With that Pepa stormed out of the room, taking a trail of water with her. Félix was right behind her as was Julieta.

Neither could look Alma in the eyes.

”Have you even ever seen her with her parents?” Pepa voiced, throwing her hands out in a huff.

Julieta and Félix shared a guilting look. A collective head shake went around. 

“It’s like they’re ashamed of her…” Julieta mused quietly.

”I’ve just never seen her. I didn’t even know who she was until today.” Félix admitted. 

Pepa growled out a frustrated jumbled of syllables. She pulled at the soaked braids shaping her head. “I’m going down there and getting answers!” 

“No, Don’t!” 

Pepa got a mere step before hands grabbed her arm. “Why not?”

”You’ll make it worse. You can’t go down there and demand things. Be smart about it. Ask something like you need help building something and request her to do it.” 

Pepa looked at her sisters pleading eyes. The longer she stared the calmer she got and the more rational her thoughts became. Veiny hands smoothed out the top of her head.

”You’re right. I - I’ll go down tomorrow. I need a clear head and a shower.”

Julieta nodded and the three went their separate ways. All held the collective gut wrenching feeling. 

~~~

Camilo’s face fell at the state of Mirabel’s house. He was polite enough not to utter a word, but he could not help but gawk at the devastation it was in.

One of his mamá’s storms would blow that thing over effortlessly. A brief glance at Dolores had him knowing she thought the same. Though her facial expressions were tremendously subtler than his own.

Mirabel payed them no mind and directed them to the barn. “Just - ah - set those there, please.” She was awkward and shuffling about. 

She hated when people saw where she lived. It was worse that it had to be the Madrigal kids too. In and out she promised herself.

Dolores smiled at the girl, who looked ready to bolt, and did as told. “Was that all you had to do? Because we really wanted to hang with you.”

Mirabel looked between the sibling duo with an eagerness she’s never had gnawing at her stomach. It was new. She doesn’t like new. It always ends with her hurt in more ways than one.

She was nodding her head yes before she could protest with her own words. She had more to do. She knew that. She would get a horrible beating but for once that did not stop her.

”I - I’m done..” 

Dolores smiled and hooked her arm around Mirabel’s, “Great! There’s this food place that I’ve been meaning to try.”

Dolores was many things. And she was great at getting people to do things. This girl needed to eat.

Desperately.

~~~

“Is it good?” Camilo asked after watching Mirabel bite into her food.

The girl’s eyes lit up as she bit back into the fried, cheesy, gooey mess of calories. It was the best thing she’s eaten in god knows how long. Probably her whole life.

”It’s amazing.” She mumbled around a mouthful.

Dolores giggled while she listlessly swished her fork around the dressing drenched salad she’d ordered. In all reality she was not hungry. She only wanted to see Mirabel eat. 

After watching her devour a plate of tias food it wasn’t hard to figure out this girl did not eat on a regular basis. Nor did it look like she took care of herself regularly.

”If you’re still hungry I can buy you something else.” Dolores took a bite from her salad.

Mirabel choked on her food, flushing a deep red. “No! No you don’t - I mean you shouldn’t this is already enough -“

”She won’t take no for an answer.” Camilo laughed as he watched the girl flounder. Though, he did have a feeling behind his eyes that pressured him. This girl was off. “Trust me, I know.” 

Mirabel stuttered incoherently and decided to stuff her mouth with more food. At least then she would not be embarrassing herself with half sentences.

Dolores grinned at the girl sitting across from her. While they sat in the pretense of that moment, she was safe. She was safe and no one could touch her.

~~~

”It’s beautiful…” Mirabel gasped, breathless at the view. 

Camilo nodded along with her, “Dolores found this place years ago. Had no idea it existed.”

”It’s…It’s…phenomenal. I feel like I’m in a book!” 

Dolores laughed lightly and sat down, her legs hung off the edge of a moss covered cliff. “Sit with me.” She patted the spot next to her.

Mirabel did not waste a second. Camilo sat next to her. No one talked. No one moved. They just gazed out at the water cascading over the side of the mountain and flowing gorgeously into a gigantic waterfall.

It made Mirabel feel so minuscule. But it was peaceful. She could coexist with nature in a silent, conventional way. There was no padres or burdening tasks or back blistering punishments.

It was just a moment that cradled her gently. She clung to that like a scared child gripping her mamá’s dress with a fist so tight her knuckles turned white.

”Are we friends…?” She asked, breaking the silence with a head tilt.

Without looking at her, Dolores exhaled a thoughtful breath. “Yeah…if you’ll have me?”

”Yes!” Mirabel blurted. “I mean, yeah, yeah I do.”

”I want in on this.” Camilo chimed.

”Go ahead.”

”Sweet! I’m going to show you all of the ways you can have fun.”

”Camilo, no.”

”Camilo, yes.”

”Dios Mio…”

Mirabel giggled behind a hand at the sibling interaction. A twinge of jealousy seared it’s way in, but she swallowed as much of it as she could.

She had a friend now.

Two of them! She would be okay. She could make it. Hopefully.

Chapter Text

“I don’t know what to do, Félix!” Pepa was pacing throughout her room. She’d worked herself into a panic.

Storms always happen when she’s panicked.

Félix had tried to get close, to wrap his arms around Pepa from behind and whisper until it was the only thing she focused on. But she pushed him away; he felt the panicked regret seep into the front of his chest. It stained his shirt.

Pepa walked to and fro, arms shooting between her head and all the way outstretched, the drab cloud above her frazzled red locks only growing in size.

”I don’t have a reason to just bring her here! Her parents won’t let me take her just because. What if —“

She halted and whirled herself in a circle to look at Félix; green eyes wide and dotted with defeat. 

“What if I can’t do a thing?”

Bile crept up her throat as the wayward woman launched herself into the stalky build of her husband.

Félix caged the monstrous, vile emotions of Pepa in his arms as the storm finally broke. He could taste the hazy nervousness in the droplets that fell from his Afro.

“We will, amor. We will.” His placidity wormed it’s way around Pepa’s voice of reason. A lethargic head nod came from the woman.

”I can’t just—“

”We can’t do anything while you’re like this.” Félix guided his wife to sit on their shared bed. It was lavish with a yellow duvet and a dark, polished bed frame.

”Take a breather.” 

Pepa nodded, her body jerking as she held back hiccups. She slowly began to lean more on Félix; wrapping an arm around him as her head slotted just under his rigid jaw.

He started to hum; the rumbling of his throat morphed into a mellow, melodic mist of bliss.

Pepa adored the stimulating buzz that Félix’s throat produced. It reminded her of the faint roar that her own storms caused. They used to sooth her during the moonless, isolating nights where she shivered in the vast emptiness of her bed.

”Right. We are in this together.”

Hands as light as an autumn’s morning fog, Félix twirled them through his wife’s hair. “And we always will be.”

~~~

She was ready. Clear headed she traipsed down the stairs, Félix enter-twining their hands.

She was getting that girl out one way or another.

Her storm had diminished, the cloud vanishing with it. But she was one wrong word away from exploding. Félix could feel her distain layering his skin in their close proximity.

He would not stop her if she did lash out with abhorrent thunders and distorted cries.

”Where are you going with that much food?” Pepa speculated, coveting around the corner and peering into the kitchen after she heard various cabinets being closed.

Camilo crooked his head over his shoulder; an arepa hanging limply in his mouth and curls sheathing his eyes. He turned his upwards to get a sincere look at his mamá.

”I was just - uh - friend! I was going to hang out with a friend so I’m packing food. She might get hungry and, well…” he trailed off, a hiss escaping his lips as he drew them closed.

He looked down at the brown baggie containing five more arepas. 

Pepa cocked her head, “Well, what?”

He shrugged, “Well I don’t think she eats all that much.”

The leering sneer of those simple syllables ransacked Pepa’s heart; they left only the tattered remains of peril. The color drained right out of her pores.

A brief glance to her husband had her knowing she was not alone in her presumptions. “What’s her name, Camilo?” Félix’s husky voice bellowed lightly.

Camilo twisted around to give his full attention to his parents, suddenly feeling like he broke a rule. “Uh, Mirabel, I think. Mirabel…Pelotón..? Yeah that’s her last name. Pelotón. Why?”

Pepa refused to crack under the forlorn tarp hiding her emotions. “Oh, no reason. Why - why don’t you invite her over for dinner?” She mused slyly.

A suspicious eyebrow lifted as Camilo fathomed the thought. “Alright.” He acquiesced with a smile and whooshed past his parents in a flash of yellow.

Pepa collapsed into the wall and closed her eyes. The permeating anguish left a potent toxin to fizzle and pop within her chest. 

“We got this.” She affirmed with a rub to her eyes and desolate sigh. “We got this.”

~~~

The agonizing realization punched the wind out of Mirabel. She didn’t have her nice clothes on! The invitation was an off handed comment she barely recognized.

First she was eating her late lunch—the first time she’d eaten that day—with Camilo. Then Dolores popped out of nowhere and asked her if she’d like to come to dinner with them.

Camilo paled and immediately added onto his sister’s statement. “Oh yeah! My Mamá wanted to see if you’d like to come!” He had enthused.

She found herself accepting before the menacing hand of reason pummeled her thrilled smile and gleaming eyes.

Madre would have a fit, but she could not back out and be seen as disrespectful now.

The miffing hum of her heart slamming into her ears blocked all other ferocious questions. Camilo and Dolores enclosed her in the middle as they meandered back to Casita.

Content breaths turned to silent ragged pleads; the constant air morphing her throat into a cracked wasteland of worded cadavers. Sweat began to tell the tale of mistake and foreboding; it plastered the back of her shirt to her marred back.

”Are you okay?” A humble imperceptible vocalized.

Breath vaporizing, Mirabel never looked at who gave the inquiry. She knew that one muddled, tender look would have her spiraling into the uncharted lands of foresting distress she’s never bothered to discover.

”Sí.”

”Are you sure? You’re sweating and you-“

”She said she’s fine, Camilo.” Dolores gazed at him with a pretentious caution that condemned his lips. She mouthed a few words and he nodded.

Now was not the time to prod for answers he didn’t want.

Mirabel side eyed the pair and felt a rippling tune wave through her. Why had they all of a sudden decided to talk to her?

Why her of all people?

She was dirty, wore tattered clothes, and no one talked to her unless they needed advice on seed products. Padre always made sure their farm was top tier. All the farmers of Encanto knew how amazing their crops were every season.

Yet they never cared to praise her. The caretaker of the fields. The one who spent mindless hours inspecting, planting, and harvesting the crops. Padre got all of the credit.

She was sure he loved the attention and fields more than he did her. He never said the words, but the distainful looks and hap-hazardous lashings echoed them.

Before she knew it Dolores tangled their hands together and pressed as close as Mirabel would allow. “Don’t be ashamed to feel scared. My family does look intimidating, but don’t let the cover deceive the pages. They’re all kind and loving, even Abuela.”

Mirabel nodded while letting a few gulps of air be welcomed into her lungs. “I’m terrified.” She admitted in a tantalized crackle that came from the built up years of dejected feelings.

”Don’t be. The only thing you have to worry about is mamá dancing you delirious.” 

Mirabel put faith into those words and used them as a lifeline. She encased them within the infra-structured acre of endangered hope. The fencing was rusted and encumbered with thorns of spite, but it would be safe.

Not even padre could compromise it.

~~~

”You’re back!” Antonio’s squeal of purified adoration spewed into the live environment of casita. 

He crashed into her shins moments later.

Mirabel shrieked as she became flailing limbs concreting into the floor. In a flash she was transferred back into the damp island her memories laid upon.

The defiling plague of padres laments beat down on her. The body dehumanizing fists clamped down on her and pressed until all the air was taken.

Then, as soon as it started, it staggered away the moment Antonio howled with laugher and sprung atop her chest. 

“I missed you.” He giggled and snaked his chubby arms around her neck.

The oxygen was vacuumed through every nostril as her eyes tore open. She could breathe again.

She could see again.

She was not at home, but at the floral scented dreamscape of transient exploration. A sickly, lukewarm moistened her cheeks as she raised a trembling arm to hug the boy straddling her.

”I - I missed you too, Hombrecito valiente.” 

Antionio hugged tighter at the nickname, his fingers curled deeper into Mirabel’s neck. And, this time, she reveled in the pudgy assault.

”Alright, toñito, let the girl breathe.” Pepa laughed, an underlying fear tying in when she saw the dried streak of tears.

Dolores helped Mirabel up and dusted her off with a contented smile, “Told you.”

Mirabel shrugged sheepishly and followed the family into their dining room. It was astonishing. The swirls of painted decorations, the jocularly hysterical colors, and the familial blanket that enraptured every dominating thing in its path barbarically dazed her head and pricked her skin.

Was this how a normal family meal felt, or looked?

”Come, come, chiquita.” Félix quaked, placing his muscularly tender hand upon Mirabel’s shoulder.

She flinched, nearly jerking herself out of the way in a force of habit. The spreading heat stopped her. Félix’s hand was big like padres but when it touched her it felt amazingly enthralling.

It was no where near frost-bitingly inhabitable like padres hands that have left many self-worth depleting, forever maimed marks.

She felt allured to it. 

She wanted to bask in the rays of acceptance for only a minute more.

Félix did not oppose.

He guided her over to the table and sat her near Camilo with Pepa on her right.

Dinner could commence.

And it did.

Foods Mirabel did not know the name of, nor had she ever divinely gazed upon, had been placed all about the table.

Her stomach yearned for the temptatious gallery as the arepas Camilo had given her seemed so insignificant.

Not that she was ungrateful!

She was.

Camilo was a gracious, if a tad bit mischievous, soul. And Dolores, oh Dolores was a soft spoken angel that did not fit what Mirabel perceived her as at all.

But she’d control herself. She would follow madres rule of letting the adults eat before she got any.

Or so she thought.

”Why didn’t you get any?” Pepa leaned over and pondered quietly.

“I’m waiting.” Mirabel answered with easy placidity. It was not abnormal for her to wait, leaving her with the burnt or undesirable scraps. If anything at all.

”What are you waiting for?”

”At home I have to wait until my padres eat before I get any. So I just thought—“

”What?” Pepa breathed in doused exasperation. “No, no, nube. Here you eat with the rest of us. You eat as much as your heart—or rather stomach—feels necessary. Got it?”

Mirabel cowered like a child being reprimanded as she nodded. “O - okay.”

Pepa grinned and busied herself with cramming as much food onto the plate as her eyes saw fit.

Mirabel gulped at the portion size of the monstrously greased mountain.

She dipped her fork on the surface like a breezy gust of mother natures breath would a lake on a springs morning.

The food was as delectable as it looked.

~~~

Somewhere in the lost bliss of time dinner ended and an impromptu living room dance started.

Mirabel was atrocious at dancing. Her feet sabotaged themselves, her rhythm was utterly terrible, and her sense of keeping a steady beat was simultaneously ineffective and fanatical.

But she did not care and it became clear from the start that no one else did as well.

”You completely suck at dancing!” Camilo bellowed out a laugh deep within his gut.

“Tell me something I don’t know!” Mirabel bit back, with a sharp grin. Her unfocused eyes scanned the room.

She could see the Madrigals dancing effortlessly marvelous. It was fuzzy, sure, but most things she saw were.

Madre never cared to get her eyes checked so she learned to live with it.

Not a big deal she concluded. It wasn’t harming her in any way.

”Oh lay off, Camilo.” A florally sculpted voice chimed.

Suddenly a woman with silky black hair that glistened shoved Camilo out of the way. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiota.”

She sneered at the boy before tuning back to Mirabel. “You might have figured it out by now, but I’m Isabela.” 

Mirabel gawked at Isabela. She was drop dead gorgeous. And, she, was…not. Blinking in complete awe, Mirabel tipped a hesitant smile.

”Hola.”

Laughing behind her hand, Isabela took in a small breath. “If you want a dance lesson talk to Tía Pepa. She’ll teach you in no time.”

And, just like that, she flicked her hand and put a small flower behind Mirabel’s ear and walked away.

Mirabel’s head spun itself into a condensed puddle. She knew Isabela could make plants but seeing it? It was incredulously insane!

”Yeah, I see you got infected with the Isabela Perfecta Disease.” A gigantic, burly woman boomed in a deep tenacity. It was Luisa. She knew Lusia. Everyone knew Luisa.

 “Don’t worry though! You’ll live. It’s only fatal if you get on her bad side.”

Mirabel had to basically break her neck to peer at the woman. It made her feel like a toddler. “What? Bad side?” 

Luisa laughed and ruffled Mirabel’s severely matted hair, “Don’t think too hard on it. She likes you.” She pursed her lips in the direction of the flower.

Mirabel put a hand to it and smiled, “She does?”

”If she didn’t, you’d have thorns coming out of your ears right now.”

”Noted.”

”She is right though. If you want to dance properly ask Tía.”

Maybe she would. 

~~~

”Hey, nube, don’t be a stranger.” Pepa hugged Mirabel. “You’re welcome around here anytime.”

”I’ll come back. After all I need you to teach me how to dance.” Mirabel cheekily spat.

If the moon could, it shined a scale brighter and doused the two in a beautifully drawn light.

”Next time and that’s a promise! But get going, don’t want you to be too tired tomorrow.”

Mirabel said her goodbyes and left the Madrigals residence with a hop to her step. Whatever awaited her at home did not seem as bloodcurdling with delicious food and accepting words leaving a chemical high in her system.

Pepa’s smile grew wistful after the girl had left and she’d retired back inside. “Her hair needs attention.” She deduced to herself.

”So do her clothes.” Dolores added as she came around the bend. “I haven’t heard anything major in a few days. Since she’s been with me and Cami and not around them she looks a lot more alive. Less skittish.”

Pepa grit her teeth at the mention of those barbarians. “It’s not enough though. Anyone with half a brain can tell there’s bruises under the layers of clothes. Just waiting to be nurtured.”

”I’ve tried to get her to open up, but there never has been a clear moment.”

”I’m guessing you heard what she told me at dinner?”

”All us kids did. I just threatened them with a look to not make a scene.”

Pepa snorted and gestured for a hug. Dolores did not hesitate to burrow in the perfectly puzzled slot of Pepa’s body. “You’re definitely my niño.”

”Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.”

As the laughter died out and the atmosphere lulled, Pepa kissed her hija’s temple and squeezed a bit tighter.

”Tell Camilo I said gracias for being Mirabel’s friend. You too. It makes this easier.”

”I will.” Dolores slouched in her mamá’s hold. “We’ll get her out. We will.”

”You sound like Félix.”

”Because papá is right.”

”Yeah…Te quiero.”

”Te quiero, mamá.”

Chapter Text

Before long Mirabel had worked out a system with Camilo and Dolores. It got her away from her padres and the pair, along with the rest of the Madrigals, did not seem to mind her constant company.

Doña Alma did not pay her much attention. Sometimes she would pour her dim eyes into Mirabel’s existential being; it didn’t happen often, but when it did Mirabel felt like crawling out of her stringy muscular system and concealing herself from the world.

Doña Alma did not seem as kind and loving as Dolores had depicted.

Bruno did pay her attention, but it was weighed down by the wafting taste of tension. She could not place her finger on it, but it looked like he was waiting for something to happen.

Something that included herself.

It was probably nothing…

The rest just seemed enlightened by the fresh face around Casita. Especially Pepa and Félix. She would not lie; she like it too.

They called her good nicknames.

They never once called her Mono!

When she was around them it was as if she had been constructed of sunshine and the dewy taste of morning rain.

Then she had to return home. She had to scramble around and do her chores before the terse and gritty tendrils wrapped around her neck and thrusted her back into the underworld.

The reality of her life.

Erosion.

~~~

Mirabel scurried like prey back home from Casita. Time had unclasped its leash and ran away from her. Padre would be rampant if she did not complete all of her chores.

Madre too!

She was supposed to fix the garden but she had wasted her time on a stupid little game that Camilo was teaching her.

Why does she have to be so useless?

Thudding steps sounding off like thunder in a hurricane, Mirabel hightailed it into her barn. Sticks and leaves stuck in her hair when she took a shortcut through some thick brush.

Busying herself with pretentious tasks, Mirabel could feel her pulse radiate in the middle of her throat.

Padre was going to skin her alive.

~~~

“Pepa!” Bruno quavered, his short frame rattling with cursory breaths. “Don’t ask how, but it’s Mirabel! S - Something is going to happen. Go to her!”

Pepa rarely needed an excuse to cause a ruckus. But involve a niño, a precious nube, and a brazen disaster will be sure to ruin everyone’s day.

Pepa believed her brother when he acted like this; he was never wrong. Forever and always she promised when he lashed out in such a mannerism.

He was the future; the future never lies.

”Okay, I believe you.” Was all she needed to say when Bruno gripped her dress sleeve tight enough to wrinkle.

A sniveling, dense black cloud followed above the moment she left Casita.

~~~

”Didn’t I tell you to put the cows up, Mono?” Rico remonstrated while latching on the skeletal arm of his hija.

Mirabel gasped through barred teeth. Tingling pain welled up inside her veins. “Sí, you did. I swear I was gonna get to it! I just - I had - I mean I—“

”Quit. Your. Stuttering, Mono!” He wailed his closed fist into Mirabel’s cheek; the force had chopped through the air.

Tears of atrocities streaked indecently down her cheek lines. She had fallen unto the hard wood of her barren room.

”I know it’s those damn Madrigals! You think you’re one of them?” He billowed in laughter. His belt jangled as he untied it. “Looks like someone needs to be humbled.”

Mirabel crunched herself into a shell. Hiccups jerking out of her ribs, making her a trembling ball of lost potential.

”Please…Dolores…help me.”

She was pleading for the woman in a way she never thought she would. All dignity she once held mocked her downed figure in repulsion.

”When I’m finished, nothing can save you.” Rico’s pompous voice accosted; his belt wrapped hand flying skywards.

It came back down like a blazing asteroid on the girls back.

She shrilled in stabbing horror.

~~~

The words gritted into the ridge of her ears and, for a moment, she ignored it. Then the gangled words clamored into her eardrums.

The familiar voice made her queasy. But the shriek that followed after eviscerated her empathy producing heart.

There was no time to get her mamá.

She goaded straight for the Pelotón residence.

~~~

He should have said something sooner.

He should have revealed the visions as soon as they were born.

There were many opportunities to tell the girl he had looked in the eyes numerous times before her fate.

Maybe if she had just known it would not go down like this. But his terse prelude of the future came to the consensus that no matter what he did or said, it would turn out the same.

He eyed his latest vision with contempt. Yet he could not bring himself to smash it. He could not bring himself to smash the frozen bodies of his sister cradling a weak fifteen year old.

He slid down the coarse bristles of his cave wall. His head fell limp into on his folded knees. He could do nothing except wait.

~~~

Discording lightning laid its ruling thumb on the nightmarish house harshly after Pepa kicked the front door in.

”What the hell is going on?” Thunder followed after those words. 

Gabriela pensively rose to her feet, “Are you crazy?” Her wine spilled when she dropped the glass cup she held. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

”What the fuck are you doing to Mirabel?” Dolores’s higher than usual tone aroused. 

Pepa looked at her daughter; ran ragged and pasted with sweat. She ran there. “Where is she?” 

Dark red lips pursed, “Get out of my house.”

A faint cry zoomed from the back hallway. Pepa’s body gravitated to it immediately. No matter who it came from, children’s cries had her running.

Dolores beelined to Gabriel; stopping her from reaching Pepa. “You’re staying right the fuck here, bitch.” 

Lighting exploded the flimsy wood door into instant wood chips. “You get the fuck away from her!” 

In her hostile, quixotic state, all the conviction and despair Pepa bottled up outrageously imploded in the form of a cataclysmic shock.

Rico had no time to stare his consequence in its face before it mired him into a searing pulse of babbling vowels.

The shock had not killed nor crippled him, but it had done major damage. Pepa still did not find it satisfying enough.

Nothing would ever be.

”I’m here, nube. I’m here and you will be safe from now on.” She soothed and picked the lightweight teen into her arms.

It was terrifyingly worrying how wiry and thin the girl was.

The crusading emotion driven storm was no where near through, but Pepa reeled it back into its iron cage. She could not scare the girl more than she already was.

Pepa exited the room and did not wait for the yells to start before she met the sopped grass. Dolores was hot on her heels.

”Good, take her! She was useless to us anyways!” Gabriela yelled in a fleeting attempt at a final jab.

”She’s breathing.” Dolores acknowledged. She knew Pepa needed to hear it. As did she too.

”She’s not moving…” Pepa whimpered in a pitfall. 

“She will. She’s unconscious.”

Dolores tried to ignore the crumpling expression on Pepa’s face. She would need her earplugs to sleep for sure.

~~~

The mother and daughter entered casita in sweating, paled complexions. Pepa wasted no time in getting up to her room, leaving the rest of her family in their wallowing perplexity.

Dolores went and got Julieta.

Both forced their way into Pepa’s room; nearly taking the door off its hinges.

”Dolores told me everything.” Julieta admitted.

”She’s bleeding and unconscious!” Pepa wailed.

”Rico did a number on her. I - I won’t lie, I could hear the skin being tore away from its stitching.” 

No one talked; no one moved; Pepa broke. “I tried! I tried to get her away! And - And now look!”

Mirabel did not stir even a hair. She laid limp in a damp puddle of her own blood.

”Help me get her clothes off. I can’t feed her until she’s awake but I can wrap her in bandages.” Julieta grabbed the clasp of Mirabel’s overalls and tore it off.

Dolores followed suit.

Pepa left the room to get the desired supplies. She passed an ashen faced Alma and, in her delirium, she barked, “Is this enough proof for you?” 

She shove her blood covered hands in Alma’s face. Alma opened her mouth to speak but Pepa cut her off.

”Just get out of my way!”

She was back in the room shortly after leaving. What she saw drenched her in weaponized guilt.

Marred skin of old ruins. Discolored skin raved on Mirabel’s back and lower neck. Lacerations of a barbarian. Unveiled truths of fresh, pungent wounds dripping puss sent Pepa into a hypnotic spiral.

”I’ve been feeding her…” she choked as her voice cracked.

”I know…” 

Magic can’t heal the past. But it should have nurtured the present. And it didn’t.

With Dolores’s help, Julieta wrapped the girl in white bandaging. The pasting white did not stay that way for long. Mirabel lay in only her underwear and wrap on the bed.

Still unmoving.

The women left the room using all as support.

They could do nothing but wait.

Falling to the floor as if they were to guard the room, all three stared off.

Pepa cried.

Julieta whimpered.

Dolores thunked her head on the wall and looked upwards.

As long as the heart beat still pulsed she could be okay. Pepa laid her head on Dolores’s shoulder.

It was going to be an endless wait.

Chapter Text

When needed to wait, it takes an eternity. When you would rather something not come at all, it shows up with beady eyes and intimidating frame.

Pepa felt conflicted as she stared down at the rattling rise and fall of Mirabel’s chest. On one hand all she wanted was for the girl to wake. To show her that she was still alive and Pepa was not too late.

On the other hand, she did not want to face the massacre of revealing truths. She did not want the fever dream to be the reality it had truly been. 

Hands clasped together and covering her mouth, Pepa lined her eyes towards Julieta. No one else other than Dolores was permitted in the room until the girl woke.

“She’s never going back there.”

Julieta wiped her grim expression on her discarded blue apron. “No, she’s not.”

”She’s so quiet.” Dolores moused in a faint cry. “I can barely hear her breathing.”

When the silence resurfaced with aggravated vengeance the woman took to glim at the worn out red boxers and white bandaging. They had not known when the next step would come.

Half of their thoughts consumed it’s arrival. The other half consumed prolonging it. What were they to do? How would they go about punishing Rico and Gabriela? How would they ensure the girl did not go back?

”Lo siento….” Dolores reared in bleak weariness. Twinkling drops pawed at her cheeks. “I should have - It’s my job to - why couldn’t I have just heard something?” 

Legs lucidly morphing into weak foundations, Dolores fell against the bed side. Hands cupping her face she cried. 

“I’m the listener. I’m the one that looks out for people. I’m the one with that responsibility. So why couldn’t I have just been useful with it for once?”

With emotions come a storm. With a gift comes responsibility. When it’s both it becomes Pepa. She would cry. She would scream unrelenting, searingly painful vowels. 

But she could not afford to storm. 

Falling next to her hija, Pepa’s lanky arms enveloped Dolores. “You are useful. You are. Dolores, you’re the most responsible girl I know.”

”Then why didn’t I try harder?”

”Have you heard it before? Mirabel I mean.”

”N - Not really. I just - I should have! It’s what I’m supposed—“

”You’re not supposed to do anything. It went under your radar. The important thing is, is you did do something when you noticed something was wrong.”

Snot dripped from her face and tears made her eyes bleary, but Dolores nodded all the same. She buried her head in Pepa’s shoulder. 

Julieta joined the hug and they sat degraded by the riveting hand of their own personal guilts.

With time and urgency creates mischief. They still had to wait for the unconscious girl to wake before relieving their preliminary haunts.

~~~

”It’s been a full day.” Pepa whispered in a broken conscious.

”She’ll wake Pepi.” Félix soothed and rubbed his wife’s back while they sat at the dinner table sharing a pot of coffee.

Though, Félix was unsure how much of his words to believe.

Pepa had neither slept, nor showered since the events the night prior. She could do nothing other than watch the slight shift of Mirabel’s breath. She did, like any decent mamá would, send Dolores to sleep.

It wasn’t clear if Dolores got so much as a wink showing as the girl had yet to venture out of her room.

”When Mirabel wakes and we can get a proper statement, Rico and Gabriela will regret what they’ve done.” Pepa said in the type of malice that only plain, raw hatred could produce.

She did despise that girls parents.

”They will, vida. They will.”

~~~

Could he have done something differently? 

Yes, he could have.

Did he have the potential and resources to? 

Yes, he did.

He did not, in fact, alter the course of the fallen events. His reputation did not allow for it to be considered a mere thought. His mamá surely did nothing to ease the blow either.

Had he been a coward? Precisely. 

But as the visions came to taunt him, he came to realize that even if he had said something, Alma would have the final say.

Alma likes to live in her safe, solacing bubble that is nothing more than deception bleeding into her way of seeing things.

He’s sure she would have not looked close enough into it.

~~~

She felt a type of lethargy that soaked her skin in a waxy coating. Her teeth felt bristly when she ran her shriveled, dry tongue across them.

Why was she so cold?

The way pain and violent sleep deprivation dizzied her brain made it pulse with a ravaging soreness.

As if a million and one tons were sent to press on her in a forced mission, Mirabel could not move. Breathing was a chore. One of those chores that make you sweat and lightheaded after only a timeless second.

She should go back to sleep. Maybe it would wear the pain elusively from her skull.

Then the door opened and she instinctively forced her eyes to look at who was barging in. 

Padre?

if it was padre she could not be caught sleeping! Not even lying down. She had chores to complete and if they were not completed he would take her to the bar.

With more effort than she’d like, Mirabel shot up and shrilled in agonizing pain. Her back sent out a far cry of waving spores.

”No! No! Lay down!” The voice came off as a distorted femininity. Then hands delicately guided her back down onto the bed.

She wanted to move again. To show that she had not been sleeping. But only a detrimental weep came from the forges of her lips.

”Please, take a breath, Mirabel.” 

The voice was familiar, and clear now that she had taken a moment to breathe. But the bombing throb covering her back divided her attention.

”Nube?”

Mirabel cracked an eye open at the nickname. Only one person ever called her that.

She saw Pepa’s bleak face tie into a trying smile; it was overshadowed by the relapse of exhaustion.

”You’re awake…” Pepa breathed softly.

“I - Hu…hurt. Lots.” Mirabel babbled incoherently.

”I know, nube, I know. I tried to stop it, but I was too late.”

”P - Padre…”

”Rico.” Pepa corrected. “That man isn’t your father.”

Mirabel gave a slanted grin. “Rico.” She repeated.

Pepa kneeled down beside the girl and lightly stroked the hair out of Mirabel’s face. When waiting for the moment to come it’s a dragging horror. But when the moment does come, it’s a rewarding treat.

Pepa was glad to see the brown eyes finally looking back at her.

Mirabel was glad to see the green ones gazing at her too. She let them look around the room, taking her time to gawk at the phenomenal work of magic, and finally looked at herself.

She was half naked!

It explained why she was so cold but nothing else. “Cl - clothes. My clothes?”

Pepa calmed the girl before she worked herself into a nervous breakdown by softening her gaze. “We had to take them to see the damage done.”

What? People saw…saw her in that vigorously vulnerable moment? 

“Don’t worry. It was just Julieta and Dolores. No one else.” Pepa assured after watching the realization dawn on Mirabel’s face. “We didn’t want to put you in anything else so we didn’t have to move you too much when it came time to change your bandages.”

Mirabel gave a weak head nod. It made sense and she knew it. “Cold.” 

“Okay, nube, do you want a nightgown?”

”Pants.”

Pepa smiled and rose to her feet. “Pants it is.” She laughed while leaving the room.

~~~

”Can I see her?” Dolores probed. Her hair was in a disarray and her clothes were ruffled. Do not mention the intense redness spread around her eyes.

”Let her rest for a while. I promise, after Julieta can take pictures and get her to stomach something, you will be the first to see her.” Pepa reasoned with her stubbornly adorable twenty one year old daughter.

Dolores wanted to argue. To bicker brutally until the woman gave in. But she knew better than to fight with a sleep deprived, scatterbrained woman.

”Okay.” She complied. “That’s fair.”

Pepa kissed Dolores in a chastised manner on the forehead. “Gracias for powering through this.”

”Power fuels me.”

”Never lose that mindset.”

”It’s what led me to finding out everything with Mirabel. I won’t.”

Pepa threw a pair of Camilo’s older, but immensely better than the state of Mirabel’s overalls, pants over her shoulder. 

She walked back into her room ready to face guilt with a hostile tongue and sharp words.

When waiting the restlessness eats at you. It was ready to be released in a vile succession.

Chapter Text

“Come on, nube, please eat something.” Pepa pleads as she holds out half of an arepa. “It’ll heal you so we can get those bandages off.” 

Mirabel groaned, barely lidding her eyes open, “I…’m not hungry.”

Pepa dropped her head, the bed dipped at the extra weight. It had been hours since Mirabel woke up and she could not get the girl to swallow a single bite of food. 

Maybe if she could eat, Pepa’s head would stop spinning.

”I brought soup!” Julieta barged in the room holding a wooden tray with a single bowl in the middle. “It’ll be easier to sip this than eat something solid.”

A half smile rose to the curves of Pepa’s lips, “You are a life saver.” She adjusted herself to sit on the bed near Mirabel’s core.

Julieta gave Mirabel a warming smile and set the tray down on the bedside table. “Sit up for me, please.” 

“I…Okay.” Mirabel breathed, deciding to drop the fight. She was exhausted from fighting blotchy spats of farces she’d never win.

Julieta helped Mirabel sit up; comforting hands guiding rigid shoulders. Head slouching backwards, Mirabel panted as she held back hisses of pain.

Mirabel nodded at Julieta and loosely opened her mouth. Julieta gently held Mirabel’s chin to keep it from hanging limply and letting all the broth spill from it. Mirabel faintly remembered the day at the stall when the same hands that guided her chin once again brushed her skin. Julieta’s hands were fatuous but told a million and three stories. The healer poured broth into the open mouth of Mirabel.

She gulped it down, the aches being tamed by the beheading fight of magic, and felt her cuts weave back together like a shirt that’s had too much mend-work done to it. Mirabel felt like the kind of shirt you wear until it’s scraps, but won’t get rid of out of pity.

She pulled away from the bowl—droplets of broth barreled down onto the white wrapping—and scrunched her face. “Can’t. No more.”

Julieta took the bowl away, “Okay, okay. You did good. That was good.”

Pepa tucked a piece of straggly, matted hair behind the girl's ear. “Do you feel better?”

A smile and a head nod.

”We can take the bandages off now and get you into some real clothes, if you’d like?”

Mirabel vigorously nodded her head. She was itching in places she could not reach and the wrap was starting to stick. 

“What do you want to wear?”

”Overalls.” Was Mirabel’s immediate answer. 

She’d been wearing overalls since she could dress herself. They…they covered everything. They were her comfort clothes no matter how denim-y or coarse they were. They encased her in ways her padres never could. Overalls provided the security Mirabel didn’t know she still yearned for.

”I don’t think—“

”I’ve got them!” Dolores bursted through the door with bags galore hanging off of her forearms; the veins popping out from total prevention of letting one bag drop.

Pepa gawked at the loose strands of hair coiled around the determined brown eyes. “Where did—“

”I had money and too much free time.”

”Yeah, you’re my kid.”

Dolores dropped the bags at the side of the bed and panted lightly. “I bought you clothes.” 

Mirabel gazed at the bags and then to Dolores. “What? No I have - I can get—“

Dolores put her hand up to silence Mirabel. She bent down and pulled out a pair of brand knew rustic red overalls. “Too late. These and everything else in here is yours.” A jaunty grin laced itself around her lips.

Mouth hung ajar, hands thumbing the white wrap, Mirabel melted into Pepa’s side and shattered into thousands of pieces.

”Gracias.”

Pepa gnawed at her lip and once again hugged the girl. “Don’t thank us for the bare minimum.”

~~~

”How do you feel?” Dolores mused as she leaned on Pepa’s doorway.

Mirabel stared at her reflection in the room’s full body mirror. “I…don’t know.” She hackled earnestly.

“That’s alright. It’s only been a day since…well, you know.”

Mirabel briefly glanced at Dolores before returning to the body standing at the center. It was her; but yet she could not recognize herself. She looked terrible even when dressed in clothes that fit and fancied no holes nor mud stains. Ghostly purple bags clenched her eyes in a ferocious hold. 

“I like the overalls.” Mirabel voiced in a desperate attempt to fill the silence.

”I’m glad you do.” Dolores had walked over beside Mirabel and linked their hands together. “C’mon, I think your hair is next.”

Mirabel pulled a strand of frizzled, grimy hair. “Yeah.”

~~~

”I’m sorry, we’re going to have to cut it.” Pepa cringed, holding a bent comb. “I can’t even get one stroke done. The knots are terrible.”

Self esteem on the floor, Mirabel gave a lifeless shrug. “I’ve nothing else to lose.” The words nearly came out bitter.

”Mira—“

”Just get it over with. It’s fine.”

Hesitant scissors began to cut, hair covered the floor like snow would during a blizzard, and Pepa’s heart shriveled at every lost piece of hair.

~~~

”It doesn’t look bad.” Isabela came up beside Mirabel and thumbed the overall strap.

Instead of falling down to her shoulders, Mirabel’s hair kissed at the base of her neck and lousily lofted below her eyebrows; situated in her original middle part.

”You could look like Camilo.” Dolores laughed.

Mirabel took her hand and combed through her hair. Strands tingled the pads of her fingers in fresh waves of arid puffs. They usually always felt rough and greasy; but now they were light, curly, and soft.

”I like it.” Mirabel decided during one last look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She turned to leave, hand grasping the doorknob, when Isabela caught her arm and pulled her back.

She flicked a finger and knitted a small, purple flower behind Mirabel’s ear. “Just for extra measures.” She winked.

“Gracias, Isa.”

~~~

Two more days flew beyond the reaches of Encanto before the Madrigals had the chance to sit Mirabel down for a talk. Pepa had insisted Mirabel rest before they demanded anything from the girl, thus she was restricted to bed rest until she could keep her eyes open long enough to grasp awareness.

As Mirabel sat sandwiched between Pepa and Félix her head swam with thoughts and questions. The dining room no longer cradled jocularity, instead taking on a chillingly achroous atmosphere. The remembrance of attending dinner that first night circulated around her memory.  Its feet dabbled in to tease her with wistfully faithful times.

”I suppose you know what we’re here to talk about.” Alma announced with a clear of her throat. Mirabel sank momentarily when fierce eyes glowered into hers. “It is the incident involving Mirabel Pelotón.”

”She’s not going back.” Pepa slid in the moment Alma got that look in her eyes. Pepa may not have known a whole lot about what Alma was thinking, but when her eyes narrowed and mirthed with a silver lining Pepa knew when to give her piece of mind.

”She won’t.” Félix backed up.

”She can’t.” Julieta held onto Agustín’s arm.

”You can’t send her back.” Bruno pleaded with glazed over eyes and glum posture. 

Pepa studied her hermanito; he looked more grim than usual. Maybe it was the lighting, or maybe it was the way his breath came in labored spurts.

That only happened when he used his gift far too much.

”I am not sending her back.” Alma finally, breathlessly, concluded. “Child abuse is where I draw the line and after what I had witnessed three nights ago solidifies that.”

Pepa had to force back a thrashing scoff. She did, however, grip the table until the pigment faded. Truly, she thought her mamá was better than that. Better than only taking action when the proof was down on its knees and begging to be acknowledged. Apparently she bet on the wrong horse.

Alma took her time to thoroughly pick her next words. She swished her tongue in circles around the slimy folds of her mouth. Mirabel thought her head would explode because of the hoarsely impenetrable tension sifting through her ears and out of her eyes.

”She will stay here.” 

Passing seconds of shocked relief. 

Eyes scanned the table; coming to a conclusion.

They’d all heard the same thing.

”She’s staying?” Antonio’s pitched voice screeched as the door caved in. The hinges howled in response.

”She can stay right?”

”We want her to stay!”

”Not want, need her to stay!”

”Please, I need a little sister!”

”I need someone my age to hang out with! And because I really do want her to stay!”

All of the voices wrapped their feeble arms on the stem of Mirabel’s brain; consuming her thoughts. People wanted her? The Madrigals wanted her? 

People. . .loved her? It tasted like the salty, otherworldliness of an ocean. And it felt foreignly beautiful in the crevices of her tarnished hands.

Limbs of all sizes and lengths yanked and pulled her while voices yelled at who got to hug her. But she could only focus on the teary satisfaction on Pepa’s face. She’d done it. She’d gotten the girl away from her detrimentally haunting nightmare.

Even if Alma had not looked fully on board, Pepa would take what she got.

Mirabel’s heart turned itself inside out. She was safe. She was loved. She did not know what that truly meant, but she’d find out. With time and talks. 

Lusia picked all of them up in a grizzly, backbreaking bear hug. This time, she loved the burly hands that touched her. For she knew these ones were family.

Nothing major was fixed. She had yet to face the tyrant ruling her life with threatening tactics of fear. But for now she’d nestle her head under Dolores’s chin, smile, and feel the remains of what she used to be melt away.

She sighed in contentment.

Chapter Text

Pepa and Félix had gathered all of the grandchildren into the parlor for a much needed talk. Julieta sat in as well. Mirabel crunched between Pepa and Dolores; she laid her exhausted head on the bone of Dolores’s arm.

”This won’t be easy,” Pepa started with a lick of her lips. “But it’s needed.”

Silence draped over the room as bated breaths waited for the other shoe to drop. Antonio sank farther down into Camilo’s lap.

”I’m going to assume most of you know about Mirabel, right?” Félix added, his brow lifting in question.

Uneasy nods accumulated around the room, some more self-assured than others.

”Mirabel was not treated right at her old house. . .” Pepa eyed her youngest son with wariness. “She was…neglected.”

Mirabel drew in a harsh breath; eyes jamming shut. “That’s one way to put it,” she uttered in a low husk.

”You don’t have to water this down, Mamá.” Camilo slouched back in his chair, eyes narrowing.

”He’s right.” Mirabel sat up, hands moistening as she faced the cursory looks. “Y - you don’t have to - I, well - you can just—“ She cut herself off, balling back up and tensing rigidly. 

The inevitable chastise wore on Mirabel’s chest the longer it teased her. Only, a hand on her back took its place. 

“You can take your time,” Pepa murmured gently against her ear. “Breath, nube.”

Mirabel nodded—heavily unconfident—and let the restricting twine cut off from her throat. “What I mean is, just say it outright. My padres hated me. It’s just fact. They - they don’t - they never have liked me.”

Isabela felt a volt of dexterity grunge inside her chest and bleed out into her arteries. It worsened when she glanced around at her sister and cousins. She could not imagine something like that happening to them, but seeing it happen to a girl she’d never met hurt.

It hurt because she didn’t know. She was useless to its power.

”Which is why she will not be going back,” Julieta appointed outwardly to attack the deafening silence. “We’re here to lay out the rules.”

Félix cleared his throat and looked pensively at Mirabel, “No one will ever lay a hand on you.”

”Ever,” Pepa emphasized, ceremoniously resting her hands on the girl. “We won’t ever yell, demean, or intimidate you.” 

As Mirabel stared at Pepa something swam from under the floor and submerged her toes; gliding its way up through her bone marrow and to the tips of her hair. Strangely it attached onto her body; caressing every curve and fold and scar.

It disintegrated around her in a dome of awkward grime. Was it love? Was it pity? Was it the bare minimum? She didn’t know and she didn’t think she’d ever find out.

”If, on the off chance it does happen, you get into trouble there will be normal consequences, not punishments. Those are two different things and punishment does nothing except create fear.” Félix was genuine with his words and confident in his expressions. It made Mirabel believe him.

”Oh! Nicknames! Do you have any?” Luisa piped up, leaning far out of her seat.

”Yeah, one,” Mirabel gulped. “Mono.”

”Monkey?” Isabela jaggedly breathed. “Why the fuck would anyone call you that?”

A pause. A laughing pause took the answers place as Mirabel gorged her vision into her lap. It was blurrier than usual.

”Monkeys are obnoxious and stupid,” she whispered in bleak distance. “Who else did they think fit that description?” It was an honest question Mirabel asked as reflective eyes mirrored the wide eyes and dropped mouths of all that gathered in the room.

Swinging arms came around to steady the disintegrating dome around Mirabel. “I am so sorry,” Pepa dimly uttered.

”No ones ever calling you that again,” Julieta promised.

Antonio studied the girl with a popped lip and a scrunched forehead. His chubby digits held his head as the thoughts dropped down on it like boulders in a rock slide.

Mirabel was pretty and brave and cool and awesome to the young boy. She saved him when he got lost! She showed up like a superhero in one of the stories Bruno would tell him. And she’s changed. She doesn’t look as tired and awfully scared anymore. It’s still there; he can see it when anyone touches her or a mildly loud sound goes off, but it’s better.

”I like mariposa!” He beamed so bright casita flippantly bounced its tiles and rippled the floor like an oceans current coming up to the tide.

A laugh elicited out of the chambers detaining Pepa’s emotions at the reaction. “It seems casita likes it too. But may I ask why?” She beckoned her son over with a smile.

Antonio wasted no time in skidding over to his mamá. He trampled up on her lap and nestled fittingly in the crease between her right arm and breast.

”’Cause she’s pretty like one! And she’s cool and awesome and she’s changed!” The pure fanatics coming from him was a nice change in tempo of the previous dismal display.

”Change how?” 

“She’s not scared anymore! She’s brave just like me!” 

The awkward grime slithered around Mirabel until she dissolved right along with it. Before she knew it Pepa was placing Mirabel on her lap right along with Antonio; she cradled both with delicate intent like one wrong breath and they’d fracture.

”I’m still terrified,” Mirabel gasped under Pepa’s chin as tears parkoured over the flesh barrier. “But I like the nickname,” she added with a sloped laugh.

”We’ve just one last thing to ask of you.” Félix stood and kneeled to be eye level to Mirabel. “If you’d like, we want to…adopt you?”

The world froze in that rapid, coursing second. It stopped dead on its axis and left the moon to wonder when it could make its appearance.

”You mean…I get to be - I can be - you want me?” As clear as it was over the last four days Mirabel had trouble finding faith in it. It was lost and forgotten about many years ago.

”I need a sister,” Dolores blurted out with a wipe of her eye.

”I’m dying for a cousin.”

”Someone my age around this house? Yes please!”

As the confirmations kept spewing, suddenly the grime felt less grimy. She still had so much blotted up, dark confusion; but it felt less so. 

“Y - Yes!” The world could spin again. The moon could shine and smile its pasty white teeth. Maybe she could have a step forward in life.

Hopefully.

~~~

“They should get life behind bars!”

”Or better yet, we exile them!”

Mirabel was covering her ears as the adults kept raving on about what would happen to her padres. When had the meeting started? How much time left? God when did things become so loud?

Vision tunneled, Mirabel felt herself waning in and out of concentration. Loud voices; booming noises; tall people. Breath convulsing, Mirabel began to shake. Sweat pasted her clothes to her skin and tongue became as rough as a tigers’s.

“Exile them? No no we couldn’t do that!”

Colors faded from sight, voices became distorted jangles, and everything launched her out of a canon into the oozing black ocean where myths become possibilities and temperatures freeze you in time.

”…stop..” She mumbled through saliva.

”Well she certainly can’t be near them! That would just undo everything she’s built in such short time!”

”Please…stop..” Mirabel’s voice rose an octave or two.

The oozing black void of an ocean clawed at her to drag her further and further into the myths. Further from sight.

”We have the proof we need! Julie got pictures the night she came!”

”Stop!” Mirabel cried out through a scratched throat. “Stop!” Unfocused eyes bleared around the room. Everything was blurry; even when her vision was clear!

Was she going blind?

”Stop.” She hissed in a helpless gurgle.

The bickering stopped, drizzling rain fell, and Alma stood back in hushed horror. Was she causing that?

”Oh…Oh! God, nube, lo siento! We…we promised no yelling. Oh god I am so sorry,” Pepa soothed in a cursory breath as she crouched down to the girl. 

Pepa glared at everyone in the room as well as saving some anger for herself. She let herself get carried away. “Mariposa, forgive me. We shouldn’t have been yelling. I’m sorry.” Pepa led the girl under wing and held her until the shaking ceased.

Mirabel never felt that lost ever in her life. The adult was apologizing, not herself. The ocean seemed to loosen its grip the longer Pepa held her head make her focus on the steady drum of Pepa’s heart. She began to resurface with the suns distant glow tanning her skin and the water starting to come out of her ears.

She could see again. Not well, but she would take it. There was Bruno looking as anxious as herself. Then there was Julieta and Félix and Alma and Agustín.

”I’m okay,” Mirabel croaked. “I’m okay.”

”I’m sorry,” Pepa’s voice cracked and pitched. “I promised no yelling.” She was truly ashamed with herself. How could she let such a thing happen?

”It’s okay. I - I was scared, yes, but I’m okay. I…I trust you.” It meant the world and three universes for Mirabel to say that. She’s never trusted anyone before. Not even Camilo or Dolores. Not fully.

”Still, I’m sorry.” 

“Pepa, I’m okay now.”

Did Pepa believe the girl? No, but she smiled and kissed the girl’s forehead regardless. Once they situated themselves in a proper manner once again, Félix turned towards Mirabel.

”What do you want to happen?”

Taken by surprise, Mirabel shrunk down in her chair. ”What?”

”They’re your ex-parents, kid. It should probably be your call.” Bruno twitched in is chair. That was probably the first time he spoke up the entire time.

All eyes reflected herself as she now held the reins to action. “You can’t exile them.” She sat up in her chair. “If they have another kid and it’s a girl you guys won’t be there for her like you were me.”

All souls took that with a grain of salt.

”But you can’t put them behind bars either. If they didn’t learn anything for fifteen years what will they learn sitting behind iron?” None of the adults had thought of that.

Mirabel’s heart seized at the thought of Rico and Gabriela. She…still held love for them. Somewhere deep and dark it sat but she could taste it some days. It was spicy like ginger.

They still meant something to her.

”I just want them away from me,” Mirabel’s voice teetered. 

“Then what should we do?” Agustín seemed lost in the entirety of the drama.

”We could banish them into the forest?” Bruno acquitted with a listless shrug. “I - I mean - we make them live out there. They have to build their own house and gather wood and water. The only thing we do is provide food once a month.”

”I think I like that idea.” Mirabel nodded with a quick glance at Pepa. “It works.”

”So then that’s what we’ll do. I can tell them now.” Félix got up from the table and excused himself.

The meeting was dismissed.

Alma stood back with lips pursed and head muddled. Could Mirabel benefit from living with them? Could she truly thrive in the environment with no gift?

She decided that she would talk to Pepa at a later date.

Until then, the Pelotóns received their punishment with public humiliation and word got out that Pepa and Félix would have their fourth addition to the family.

The Madrigals always adapt.

Chapter Text

“Mira, I promise we’ll leave the second you get uncomfortable.” Camilo said, folding his hands together in pleading.

He’d wanted to go out and do something since he’d been kept home for the past week. He wanted to hang out with his new sister. It did not take long for him to declare twins against her.

Biting at her lips, Mirabel gazed out at the town that seemed so small when she was far up the hill. The people were like little specks in her life.

”I don’t - what if - it’s only been a week.” She continued to stare out at the town. She was afraid of seeing Camilo’s annoyed expression.

”Anyone bothers you, mamá has it handled.” Camilo shrugged with a grin. “Simple as that.”

”I’m not going to see my—them—right?”

Camilo laughed, “You banished them into the woods. They’re not coming into town.”

Camilo could see—it was hard not too when it was pushed so close up to his face he went cross eyed—where Mirabel’s fear was coming from. He only wanted her to break out of the cocoon she’d been sealed away in. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Shoulders squared, Mirabel puffed out her chest. It was time to start picking little by little at the years worth of material her cocoon was made of.

~~~

”You think you’re one of them now?” 

The words rang like the aftermath of a gunshot in Mirabel’s ears. They’d been said before. The pain resurfaced, the yelling and his furious expression came back with it. Their bubbles taunted her as she treaded water in the ocean that never seemed to end.

She never came across anyone either. Alone she was; left to tread endlessly until her muscles gave and she succumbed.

”Didn’t you hear me, Mono?” Mirabel was shoved harshly into the wall—her back ached dully from the force.

”Leave me alone, Carlos.” Mirabel murmured, she wasn’t sure if he heard because she was too focused on getting her muscles to keep going to notice if she said it loud enough.

”You think you’re so high and mighty now that the Madrigals have taken you in.” Carlos leaned in nose to nose. “They pity you and couldn’t find some sad sack to take you in.”

And that’s was it wasn’t it? It was pity? From the very day Mirabel knocked into Dolores all the way up to then, it was pity?

It never felt right to think the words, let alone someone saying them outright. The awkward dome of a grimy substance wasn’t pity. It was…was something that tickled her brain in a way she felt was always supposed to.

Mirabel weighed her options. Wait until Camilo came back from the restroom or handle her own. She’d been handling her own for fifteen years, what’s a few more minutes?

”You know what, fuck you,” Mirabel grit, throwing her arm back and—fueled by years of hurt that never got the chance to heal—letting it soar through the air.

Carlos went down like a block tower knocked over by a child. 

Mirabel had to admit, maybe letting off some steam with fists works. That would be correct until Carlos swirled back up in a hiss of curses and angry eyes.

”You fucking…ugh bitch,” He spat, wiping his mouth. 

Carlos was bigger; Mirabel stood little chance. Both bodies went down in a fire of hot rage when Carlos tackled Mirabel. Fists clashed and arms tangled, words were distractions and blood was spilled.

Carlos had Mirabel pinned to the ground—old papers and crust from the buildings mounted up on her clothes and hair—as he wrapped his violent hand on the collar of the smaller’s shirt.

Mirabel used her fingernails to dig into the course flesh of the older boy’s arms and used all her strength to push him away before he struck.

Then all the mass was torn away at once. Carlos was drug away and Mirabel could feel the ocean she was treading in catch her in a wave and push her towards land.

”Get the hell out of here!” The familiar voice of Camilo boomed out. He threw Carlos back and kicked at him until the boy scurried out of the alley they were hidden in.

A twinge of pride stroked through him as he saw the lashings of purple marks on his face that he knew were there previous to his arrival. But there was no time to focus on that when his sister—melliza—was a jumbled mess on the ground.

”Mira!” He rushed over and crouched down to Mirabel’s level. “Oh shit, Mira, I’m so sorry!”

Mirabel only rose a brow at him and turned on her side that faced him. She saw the crestfallen look he produced when he looked at her. 

“You’re hurt.” It wasn’t the fact that he acknowledged it. It was the fact how broken he said it that jabbed her heart worse than Carlos’s punches.

”I know,” Mirabel snarked, slowly working her way up on her knees. Until a horrible feeling plagued her stomach.

She lurched forwards, tears pricking her eyes, and vomited up stringy chunks with a tint of dark red creeping in. Camilo patted her back mindlessly as he muttered comforting words.

Mirabel didn’t know if they were meant for her or him.

”He got me a few times in the stomach,” She laughed weakly.

”How did it even start?” Camilo questioned and looked at her like it was her fault. What did you do? Hung loosely in the air.

Or she thought it did.

”Did he corner you? What did he say?” The onslaught of words rushed Mirabel. She scooted back to take a breath; the tangy-coppery taste still lingering in her mouth.

”I - I don’t - he just came up to me. Grabbed me by the arm and yanked me back here.” She twitched, tensing when Camilo came to sit next to her and leaned his head on her shoulder. “Then, I don’t know, he started spouting things and I lost it.”

”You started it?” The exasperation and amusement confused Mirabel.

Was he proud she got hurt? Or was he proud she defended herself? “Sí, I did. I think I won too.” The joke landed as Camilo hummed out a chuckle.

”You’d have lost if it weren’t for me.”

”Shut up.”

”Come on, let’s get you healed. Mamá is going to have a fit.”

Mirabel eyed her right hand. It was smattered in a bulging twist of purple and blue clashing together to make an unpleasant sight.

She was left to her imagination on what her face looked like.

~~~

”You said you’d keep her safe!” Pepa scolded as she shoved an arepa down Mirabel throat. 

The girl did not complain as it got rid of the lingering zest of vomit.

”I got him away from her when I did see it,” Camilo defended. He didn’t know why he was defending a case that even he didn’t agree with.

He promised her that they’d leave when someone bothered her. And when they did he wasn’t there. It was as if he blew her off. He felt like an asshole.

”That doesn’t—“

”I know it doesn’t. Okay? I feel terrible. I wasn’t there when I was supposed to be. I feel…stupid!” Undesired claws ripped his insides apart and latched unto his throat. 

They left deep gashes when he tried to swallow them down. “I’m sorry,” He whimpered.

Suddenly the storm Pepa had been slow cooking was unplugged and thrown away. Her children were hurting and she was not making it better. She needed to do better.

”No, Camilo, it’s not your fault. It’s not either of your faults. I’m sorry I got mad.” Pepa cupped her sons face and grazed over the tears rolling down his cheeks with her thumb. “You did good defending her when you got there.” She kissed his forehead and pulled him into a skin sticking hug.

She shuffled a step or two and yanked Mirabel into the hug by the overalls—much like she did the first day they met.

”You did good defending yourself too,” Pepa’s voice was warm and prideful.

~~~

It did not take long for word to get around about the mishap including a certain yet-to-be-adopted Madrigal.

Alma was steaming out the ears as she hurried back to casita; face lit up in embarrassment. That girl fought Alma’s close friends son!

How could she?

”Pepa, may I have a word with you?” She was straightforward and stern.

Pepa seemed prepared as she accepted with a grin. Posture tall and face determined, she followed the matriarch back into her room.

Alma’s room had never been decorative. Only a bed, wardrobe, and the window that presented the candle.

”It’s about—“

”I’m sure I know what it’s about,” Pepa cut the woman off and leaned back on the wall. “And don’t you go blaming Mirabel for it.”

”She fought—“

”Defended. She defended herself.”

Alma’s face scrunched as she struggled to keep composure. “It was still a reckless thing to do.”

”Reckless?” Pepa gasped, eyes going wide. “It was bravery. She was brave to do that for herself because she spent fifteen years taking it.”

Alma’s hands trembled in patronizing anger around her shawl that she hand pulled closer. “You need—“

”I don’t need to do anything. I’m not letting you finish that sentence. She was brave and I’m not punishing that. I’m going to encourage it because I’m doing what you should have fifty years ago! I’m not being a madre I’m being a mami. They may mean the same things but the titles are different. One is given and the other is earned.” 

Pepa barely gave her mamá a second thought when she opened the door to leave. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “My kids—especially Mirabel—will grow up knowing what pride and accomplishment is.” 

She slammed the door shut, rattling the room and Alma’s thoughts. Alma was left alone with only a gust of wind and the flickering of the candle.

Had she been wrong with her way of things? Surely not, her niños grew up just fine. But, then, what was Pepa going on about? A smoldering piece of debris tingled inside her chest. Somehow, it felt right to have.

Pepa exhaled all of her stress and went to find her daughter. Mirabel may not have been adopted yet, but who said titles meant anything?

Adoption was only the official paperwork that they’d like to get incase Rico and Gabriel tried to claim something. Not that they could—or wanted to—but it was backup all the same.

She found the shrieking laughs echo out of the chaotic destruction Camilo’s room was known for. You enter properly mannered and leave a gremlin with no sleep schedule.

As her finger tips grazed the doorknob a stray thought crossed Pepa’s eyes. Mirabel should get her own room. She knew that the girl wouldn’t want to sleep with Félix and her forever—though the girl might put up a protest—and she deserved her own space.

The state of her old one…she’d seen rats live in better spaces considering Bruno owned them.

The girls sixteenth Birthday was rearing it’s head around the corner…

A grin geographically etched onto Pepa’s face as a plan formulated in her head. This was her time to be better. So she’d take any chance she got. She entered the room, catching her fifteen year olds in the middle of a reenactment of…well she did not actually know.

“Having fun?” Pepa mused.

Mirabel ran up to her in a heaving mass of curls and sweat. “Extremely! I didn’t know rooms could have so much space to do things!”

Pepa cackled and eyed her son. He was in a similar state to Mirabel. “I showed her the mirror maze and then she found some costumes in my closet,” Camilo smiled.

”Is that where all the feathers came from?”

”Sí.”

Pepa nodded in amusement. “Mira, would you like to learn how to sew?”

”Huh? I can - I can do that?”

”Yeah, it’s not hard.” 

Mirabel eagerly accepted and crushed Pepa into a hug. The older woman felt her heart melt and the sun heat up at the jaunty display.

”When can I start?” Mirabel was practically jumping up and down.

”Tomorrow?”

”Perfect!”

Mirabel could—and maybe would—explode with happiness. The amount of rips and hold she had in her old clothes screamed at this revelation. Now she could fix them herself! And maybe Pepa could even teach her how to sew things onto her clothes to make them pretty.

The last grin Pepa gave her and Camilo before she left swelled up in her memory. She knew it wasn’t pity.

It never had been pity.

It was family.

Chapter Text

The slight pant of Mirabel’s frustrated breaths had been sounding in Pepa’s ears for the last few minutes. She sighed and put the shirt she’d been working on delicately in her lap as to not mess up her patchwork.

”Okay, I’ve let this go on for long enough. What’s going on?” Pepa asked the girl sitting idly at her feet with a less than ideal lump of fabric and tangled threads strewn across her legs.

”Nothing.” Mirabel picked the needle back up and stabbed it forcefully through the spare shirt Pepa gave her.

”It can’t be nothing when you’ve been stabbing at that piece of fabric for ten minutes. You can tell me.” Even though Mirabel had not looked at Pepa she could tell the woman had a smile on her face, just from the softness lining her words.

Boring her unsteady eyes into the product of her frustration, Mirabel’s shoulders slumped as she relaxed. “I don’t know. I just have this weird feeling in my chest and it hurts. It’s like someone stuck a sword through it and twisted.”

Pepa winced at the tumbling words. The way they fell announced that they were close to being incoherent. “Is it about sewing? It’s only been two weeks you can’t—“

Pepa went tight-lipped when Mirabel swiped the disfigured practice shirt off her legs like they’d been burning her and curled up. Her shoulders hitched up to her ears, shuddering as if in mimicry of her own irregular heart beat. While sounds that could not be passable for strangled cries wrenched themselves from deep within her chest.

”I don’t - I don’t understand,” The words came rippling out of lips that wavered like waves crashing into a concrete barrier. “Why - Why didn’t they want me? Why couldn’t they just accept that I was—am—a girl?”

Pepa felt her mood drop to freezing temperatures as a dense fog overlayed above—figuratively speaking. She palmed her hours-worth of work and set it on the floor as if it had to guard it like high royalty. 

The other shoe—that was old and torn with leather strips peeled off—dropped and smacked Pepa right atop her head. She slid off the wooden rocking chair and laid next to Mirabel; entangling their limbs to keep the burning ember of security alive. 

“That was their reason?” Pepa knew she didn’t really hold a place to ask. But she didn’t force back the question.

”You didn’t know?”

Silence and fingers combing through plush curls spoke the answer.

”They said - they said that I was a mistake. And that I was lucky they kept me ‘cus no one would. That no matter what I did couldn’t make anyone proud. Which is why…that’s where Mono came from.”

Pepa’s chest ignited into raging flames remarkably so it was as if the devil’s trident lit it. The heat spread and smogged her lungs; injecting every vein her heart supplied.

”Trust me when I say that you have made me and everyone else here so proud. We don’t care that you’re not a boy—that never mattered and it never will. We—I—just want to see you happy just as you are.”

The sniffling girl nudged her curls centimeters away from Pepa’s chin. That should have been enough. That should have soothed her scorched heart. But it, to put it plainly, did not. The yearn for seeing the proud glint in Rico’s eyes never ceased.

It grew and grew until it was taller, bigger, and stronger than her. The chain wrapped around her neck bent and twisted in ways it was never meant to, never supposed to, near to the point of snapping altogether as it violently flicked like a serpent’s tongue would at the sight of prey, tossing her into the damp void of nothingness. She could only skid from the momentum; she could do nothing to stop herself from falling.

She would always amount to nothing.

”I - I just want—“

”Pepa!” Alma thrust the door open—hinges unanimously screeched in agony. “Come! Come quick! The Heliodoros’ house is on fire!”

Mirabel could think that—as Pepa jumped to her feet with such force she nearly fell—the woman forgot all about Mirabel’s hurting words.

Maybe she did. Maybe Mirabel wasn’t that important in the first place. With thoughts descending into a now-familiar spiral, she followed behind the older women; taking on the job as their shadows performing in the twilight with the moon as her backdrop. Forever unseen and unheard.

~~~

Mirabel watched in awe, mouth agape and eyes windowing the sooty red conjoining with beaming orange.

An inexplicable thrill of adrenaline surged through Mirabel as she watched the flames leap higher and higher, sparks and embers flying every which way and giving the already-blazing inferno more reign. She felt, and she watched, in what could only be described as a morbid admiration, as what had once been a proud family home was reduced to nothing more than soot and ashes beneath the power of the merciless blazes.

Rain started to convulse on the blackened soot the house was covered in. It wasn’t enough. The house still dramatically flared with its arms open and core its eternal furnace.

The windows were open. 

The adrenaline yanked her forwards. She was sprinting into the blazing house ignorant to the yells and tranced into the embers.

This was her opportunity to prove him wrong.

Sliding in the burning foundation, Mirabel bent forwards and ran towards the staircase that had yet to be destroyed by the flames. Smoke housed in the space of her lungs and waged war with her eyes. Distant and murky yells barely collided with Mirabel.

They told her to stop. To leave and escape with her life. They barely altered the course her thoughts trained in.

Room to room she went, growing a greater determination with each doorway she passed through. Oxygen was harder to scavenge and smoke fogged all around in a hazy pool. Wheezes of rumbling coughs climbed out of her throat.

With the last room came the even greater determination of completing her self-assigned mission; Mirabel spun on her heel and hastily tiptoed down the hallway. Fire nipped at her with its fanged mouth; she kept going, her heart did too. It beat and beat and beat with no rhythm to follow. The adrenaline teetered on the concaving awe she wallowed in.

Spine curved, a triumphant grin reached her ears as she hopped down the last step. 

Then, the ceiling caved.

A burnt ceiling piece skydived to its demise. And, in a last attempt to break its fall, kneaded Mirabel’s shoulder. Reduced to gasping cries, Mirabel lurched forwards in her trek. It wasn’t a matter of making someone proud anymore. It was a matter of life or death.

Crawling in antagonizing pain, Mirabel reached the door she entered in—that was now nothing more than a crumbled opening—and wretched for oxygen that had once been lost.

The grass was soaked, the world was tilting in a slope; never deciding if it wanted to slant to the left or right, and she was caught in a spell of delirium. Slinking towards the mass of bodies with one working arm and limp legs she almost didn’t feel the pair of husky arms pulling her into a stalky body.

”I’ve got you, chiquita, don’t move. You’re burnt.” The masculine familiarity nearly had the name of the man on the tip of her tongue. But as she kept fading in and out of a head-spin, only one thing pressed harder at her brain.

”Did…did it work?” Pasty and dry lips produced a wasteland of sere words. 

“Did what work? Why did you go in there?” Félix never got worried. He was named long ago the worry wither-er. He diminished the ugly ogre that worry was.

Until he met Mirabel.

She was everything a child should not be. He never stopped worrying over the minute she melted into his touch like she’d never knew what a hug was.

Now that the disheveled body lay in his arms with glazed over eyes and weakened limbs he wanted to cry. 

“The windows,” Mirabel croaked as her eyes started to shut. “I - I shut them. Did it stop the fire?”

He reluctantly looked at the forgotten house and was ashamed to see that Mirabel did stop it. She did what an adult should have. Why did she do it? Was all he could think when he focused back on the girl; refusing to waste another second of his attention split.

Mirabel was unconscious.

~~~

“Pepa you need to breathe,” Bruno suggested, taking his hands to put on the slim bones branching away from his sisters neck.

”Why? Why should I breathe when mi hija is out cold again on my bed wasting away?” Pepa ripped Bruno’s hands away from herself. Her voice was a crippling ulcer of terror and acidic malfeasance.

She couldn’t protect her daughter. Again.

”But she will be okay. It’s only been a few hours. You won’t gain anything by sitting here wasting away with her.”

Pepa’s visage could rip Bruno’s head off alone with her fierce look. She wanted to. Who did he think he was telling her what to do? It wasn’t his kid. It was hers.

She opened her mouth to say just that when Félix cut in, “He’s right. Come, let’s take a walk, eh?”

A grave thunder storm lay dormant under Pepa’s worry; the temperature had already dropped below ideal. But the outstretched fingers and charming smile Félix gave her kept it at bay. 

“Fine.” She took her husbands hand and left her room.

Bruno sighed and plopped down on a rickety, old rocking chair facing the bed. The sight he was presented shown all too familiar; unconscious body, expressionless face, and searing marks that left behind numerous tall tales left to be urban legends littered the wiry body.

He couldn’t bare to look at it. At her. She was the definition of one step forward, three steps back. Stings of regret coalesced into a veil over his eyes, giving the deep green of his eyes a tragic shine. Unable to stomach the sight before him any longer, Bruno averted his eyes and fixed them instead on his left leg, determinedly drowning out the rest of the wretched world as the focus of his leg bouncing in a beat of its own ruled over every other thought.

Up, down, up, down…up, down, up—

“You knew didn’t you?”

Chapter Text

Bruno refused a lot of things. And now, he refuses to look up. The terrible shine of regret had turn to a drowning sheet. If he doesn’t look up, he won’t have to answer the question that was voiced by a cracked mist of realization.

Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up. Do. Not. Look. U—

“Bruno?” Mirabel queried in a voice that was coalesced in burning nepenthe. “Please, I know you know. You did know.”

The realization hadn’t come barreling in with an exhilarating gun fire to follow nor had it been a slow, rhythmic process. It had just appeared. Clarity you could call it. As she lay, once again half naked, on Pepa’s bed she felt, and tasted, the smog, the breathlessness, the adrenaline waning, all of it wrapped up into one. Then, as she lie helpless with only one person to keep her company, it squandered her to nothing but fleshy remains.

”You - you’re up. I - I should—no need—to get Pepa. She’s been worried sick.” Bruno hastened to the door, never once looking at the mired girl. 

“No!” Mirabel tore off of the bed only to fall as her legs gave way to no more than deception. 

She surrendered to a crackling coughing fit, face painting a shade of red, and the howl of her stinging shoulder rendered her incapacitated. The smoke, the triumph, the morbid awe soldiered out of her lungs; expelled from her body.

Scale-like hands brushed up on her ribs and, with extreme amounts of care, slowly pushed her into a sitting position; the bed being used as a backrest.

”Okay, wow, shit—fuck—no I can’t say that! Mariposa, I won’t get her. I won’t. Not yet.” 

Sniveling coughs in farther than they could go outwards, Mirabel gave only a slight, deft nod. Bruno chickened away and watched — eyes still pricked with regret and shined an awful dark green — in choking horror at the sight of the girl’s darkening face.

A dry mouth worked its way around the life-emptying coughs, “Please. I don’t - don’t want her to yell at me. Not - not right now.”

Bruno nodded. He studied, with a remorseful face, Mirabel. She put no weight on the flat of her left shoulder—it had been wrapped in the same white bandaging she’d been previously encased in—and her head hung uselessly with no effort to try and be held up by the support of her neck.

The burn of his past cowardice blazed like a dragon’s hell; he fell powerless to the twisted ruling of the rules stringing him along and using him as the puppet while the puppeteer mocked him from above. The light of what he could have rose to barely shown upon the unkempt curls sticking out from his ping-ponging, hazardously sick head.

”Bru…no? Your gift. It’s future sight, right?” Mirabel asked, a shine of saliva glistening on the corner of her mouth as the words needed to be lubricated to be forced out. 

The frayed ends of his ruana strained as Bruno thumbed them. He held his breath—waiting for his face to turn its own shade of red—and thought of the many ways he could cut his strings. Set himself free of the lengthening burden of glassy green. He’d run. He’d hide. He’d change his name.

Anything to not be the Man of Future Sight.

”I don’t blame you,” Mirabel threw out. 

He took her trash. He took the spare words she threw out and kept them. As the saying goes “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure” and he needed that treasure. The gold doubloons, gems, necklaces, all of it.

Because, in the forty five years he’s been the puppet masters muse in the chambers of hellfire, that was the first time he’s heard that sentence. It soothed the patriarchal inferno far more than any comfort Julieta or Pepa had ever given him.

”You should.” He faced away from her, no longer able bodied to see what his indirect inaction caused.

”I never knew you,” Mirabel started with a dry hiss for a laugh. “I knew about as much of your name and surface level explanation of your gifts. That’s how it was for all of you guys. And now, well now I can see. I know more than I thought I ever would.”

”Where are you going with this?” Bruno had to ask. Because, truly, why was she wasting her time—when she could and should be resting—on him?

”I never believed those rumors.”

Oh. 

Oh.

That brought a wave of water to his fiery surface; it steamed up into a moisturized cloud of sinful fathom and melted his face. Melted it into what truly sits behind his flesh and eyes and bones. It brought out the trembling little boy, the one with a big imagination, the one with bright eyes that had always wanted to see so much, and also the one who was defiled into a remote corner and banished to nothing but a slave to the village on the verge of being lost to the void of being nothing; being in nothing.

”Which means I don’t blame you. But, please just tell me if you saw. Just tell me that I wasn’t wholly alone throughout my life before this.”

It was time to wallow in valor for once. It was time to stand tall and be a man his papá would be proud of. Bruno stood, dusted the roaches of guilt away, and nodded.

”I’ll be right back. Stay put.”

~~~

In the same position Bruno has sat in for most of his life—legs crossed and visions circling her—Mirabel held the most recent one. The image seared into her skin and left a forever maim on the inside of her eyes.

It was all too accurate. It should have hurt. Should have brought the worst tantalizing agony. But it did not. It filled her heart with comfort in a twisted, unorthodox appeal. It proved that no matter the course of her life, no matter what she said, or felt, or got drug through, she was destined to be loved.

That’s what it was. Staring at the vision with attentive eyes, the awkward grime retreated and returned in a dewy, raindrop sleek. There’s only one type of person who can give off that sleek.

Pepa. She had loved her. 

“Can I keep this?” Mirabel choked, wiping her thumb listlessly over Pepa’s green face.

”Why - it’s - it’s painful-“

”No. it’s…perfect. It’s the truth. It’s…love.”

Suddenly, making Rico proud didn’t seem as important. It fell apart in the water she’d been swimming in and burnt in the furnace she was headed towards. Mirabel rose her eyes to Bruno, both sets of brown eyes widowed matching looks of silent satisfaction.

”Sure, mariposa, sure.” Bruno took the rest away and decided that, once in a while, the green of glass futures isn’t so bad. 

Mirabel stood, hissing at the exertion, and started a slow shuffle back on the bed. With each new throb of pain came the throb of what she had done tied to it. The reigning inferno she ran into—physically and mentally—seemed to look like nothing more than a fizzled out spark. It seemed conquerable.

”Your shoulder hurt?” Bruno tentatively murmured.

”Terribly,” Mirabel grit, “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“No—maybe—no. It wasn’t ideal, but it was courageous. You stopped the fire from spreading to the rest of the Encanto. That’s something to be proud of.”

”Yeah, but in the end I only hurt Pepa, you, Félix, everyone, even myself!”

Bruno winced, feeling the hurt through his bones as if he took it from her, and sat near her feet. “We’ll work through it. Firstly, you need to be healed.”

”I’m not hungry.”

”I didn’t say physically. That too, but I mean your thoughts. Just, rest for now and the rest will come later.” He got up to leave, but a single strained mumble caught him.

”Gracias.”

”De nada, mariposa, de nada.”

Chapter Text

“Please, don’t ever do that again.”

It was Pepa who said the words, but as they assaulted, and dizzied, Mirabel’s ears it was another woman who said them. That woman was hoarse and ghostly and fragile. Not Pepa. Not the woman that would scream a blizzard and fire your soul into a raging bonfire if you hurt her family.

But, as she peered into the woman’s green eyes, like a child timidly curling their fingers around the corner afraid of what lay beyond, she was also peering into the eye of a storm. Emotions whipped around like debris, unsaid words bulleted through her, and the malfeasance of not doing enough was the mastermind behind the torpedoing tornado silently, but destructively, creating total devastation.

These eyes were nothing like the guilty, horribly green shaded sheets of brown like Bruno’s.

They sleeked over her with a tint of love. She could see the faint pink highlight behind the ugly dark blue and black of the storm.

”I won’t,” Mirabel quavered. She meant it, because she had no reason to do that ever again. “I - I’m sorry. I just - I wanted to be seen, do something worth being proud of, I wanted to make Rico proud even if he’d never see it.”

“Oh, nube,” Pepa pulled Mirabel into a bone crushing hug. Mirabel did not mind. She wanted the pain. She wanted to know that she could still feel, could still be a human. “Did I make you feel that way?”

Boney fingers, that had long touched with love, brushed upon the scar maiming the small of Mirabel’s shoulder. She winced, without feeling real pain because Julieta made sure to feed her, and bit down on her lip. The pain did not need to be physical to electrify through the deep veins that always connected to her heart. The phantom, elusiveness, was enough to weaken the pumping organ that kept her alive. 

It served as memory of what she had tried to do, tried to be.

”No. It wasn’t you. It was - was a stupid wish.”

”It’s not stupid if it hurts.”

”I just wanted to do something big, something that would show that I can be something other than the kid that her parents didn’t want. Or the kid that the Madrigals pity.”

Pepa twirled her boney and lovey fingers through the plush curls on Mirabel’s head. She knew there was a scar, an ugly maim of what she failed to stop, and she knew that Mirabel held many things within her wide brown eyes. Eyes that always seemed to be looking at something new with pure awe.

”We don’t pity you.”

Pepa’s mouth had been sewed shut with the burly thread of memorabilia. What they failed to notice was another, colder, presence in the room. She had slipped in, tiptoeing like she knew she’d been doing wrong, going unnoticed.

”It might have felt, and probably looked, like we did. But we don’t.” Alma enclosed her shawl tighter around herself and looked Mirabel head on.

Mirabel shivered under the gaze. Her eyes were nothing like Bruno’s or Pepa’s or even Julieta’s. Those eyes were murky and cemented with many other things it was hard to tell what was genuine other than the natural cold.

Alma gave Pepa a look, one that felt chilling but held a tone of something Mirabel didn’t have a word for, and suddenly Pepa was leaving Mirabel. Leaving the room. Leaving her with the cold and murky waters of Alma’s eyes. Leaving her without the warmth of climaxing love.

Mirabel felt only hypothermia spread up and down and left all through her right side instead of the warmth that should be exploding inside of her.

Alma put her shawl around Mirabel.

”I have a lot to apologize for.”

Mirabel squinted at the woman; soaking in the way her eyes were starting to transform. The cement was starting to melt back into the paste it was before drying.

”What?”

”Listen to me.”

Mirabel nodded and wrapped the shawl a little more securely on her small frame. 

“I didn’t…didn’t see you for who you are. I - I didn’t think you could be one of us.” Alma’s mouth was starting to run dry but her eyes were becoming lakes of pasty cement. The real, rawness of the emotions she tried to keep hardened for fifty years finally showing through.

Mirabel saw the hint of blue and tact of pink and even a lighting strike of red. All things she never saw the woman express before. All she ever saw was gray, drabness of a matriarch.

”But now that you’ve been here for sometime I realize that you have always been a Madrigal. No matter who brought you into this world, you’ve always held the Madrigal name even when we, or you, didn’t know it.”

Alma smiled at the girl and, for a true time in fifty years, showed how proud she could be in her family. How proud she was everyday. She stroked her palm over the girls wet cheek.

”You, Mirabel, are our miracle. You have brought out a side of Bruno I never thought I’d see again. I’m to blame, I know I owe many apologies, but I thought it’d be best to start with you. You’ve brought so much life to this family that even casita seems to buzz with life that I have not seen in years.”

Mirabel could see, that once had only been faint streaks, all of the colors prominently admired shiningly through the worn, tired windows Alma had for eyes. She was confident in herself when she could feel love burst out and capture her in a trance.

It felt good, amazing, astonishing, to finally be under the gaze that could nurture her tenderly and carry her at her worst.

”I forgive you.” Three simple words that changed the course of lives. Three simple words that Alma knew she didn’t deserve. Three simple words aired out and Alma grabbed them.

”Gracias.”

Before the two could hug the door slammed open and five young bodies toppled unto the ground.

”Oh my god, Mira, what the hell were you thinking?” Isabela demanded, swiftly checking over the girl.

Mirabel yelped when hands tried to lift the back of her shirt, “I’m okay! No need to do that!”

”I’m keeping a fucking leash on you.”

”No, no that’s not—“

Isabela put a finger to Mirabel’s lips and tied a green vine around her waist before rapping it around her own wrist. “Too late.”

”For once I agree with Isa. We can’t have you dying on us when we just adopted you—“ Camilo swung a hand up to his mouth and shaded a deep red. “Fuck. I wasn’t supposed to say that yet.”

”You dumbfuck,” Lusia sighed, hefty shoulders slouching as she lightly smacked the boy upside the head.

Staring at the bodies floating in an awkward pile, that seemed all too comfortable in the positions they were sitting in, she felt fog fill up in her throat. Too many eyes. Too many emotions to read. Too many colors of red and pink and blue and green highlighting like neon streaks in their natural shades.

”What?” Mirabel wasn’t sure if she had said the words because the fog was too thick to break past.

Dolores sighed, dusting off her skirt from her more proper position on the floor, and walk to sit on Mirabel’s left side.

”The paperwork went through. The man just came over to tell us. You are—“

”Officially a Madrigal. . .” Mirabel finished, not believing the words coming from her own mouth.

As if a bright pink blast went off in the room Mirabel felt suffocated by the force of love coming from every smile, every dipped curve on her family’s visages, every limb hurling around her own to be touching her in some way; reassuring her that she was there and there to stay.

As a Madrigal.

~~~

”Do you need glasses?” Agustín asked, tilting his head as he watched his sobrina squint and pull away from a book twelve different times—yes he counted.

”What? No. No I am just having a hard time reading this. Don’t worry—it’s normal. I’ve always had a slight blur to my vision.”Mirabel said with a nonchalant shrug and went back to scanning the page for her lost spot.

”That’s not normal.” Agustín came up next to Mirabel and took the book out of her hands; eliciting a whine from her. “I would know because I said the same thing to my mamá when I was just younger than you.”

”So? I don’t think I need glasses. I can see mostly fine—except things that are too far or too close…” Mirabel dropped her head as she realized the words she’d been spouting. “Shit.”

”Yep. I’ll go get Pepa.”

Agustín got his sister-in-law and a few hours later Mirabel came back to casita sporting glasses with green frames. A few odd looks were sent around because the lime green did not match her rustic red overalls in the slightest.

”What’s with the green?” Camilo asked.

Mirabel shrugged and glanced at tío Bruno. “I like green.”

She’d never say that it was because of the man wearing green is what made her choose. She’d never breathe a letter about the visions he’d shown her, because the rest of her family simply did not need to know. 

She’d never tell a single soul about the vision she kept. Because she knew what would happen if she did and, as a person who’s had many disappointed sighs come her way, would never want that for her tío even if Abuela was starting to make up for her wrongdoings.

”I like green,” she insisted. Because, she did like green.

~~~

”Why did you do it?” Dolores breathed, scrunching part of her red comforter in the palm of her hand.

”Do what?” Mirabel turned in the bed to look at her older sister. The girl that was still vastly different than the one she met months ago.

That day felt like a small speck in her life now.

”Run into the fire.”

Mirabel sighed, turned to look at the dark ceiling, and scooted down under the blanket so only her neck up was exposed.

”I wanted to be the moon. I wanted to be the thing casting the shadow instead of being the shadow. I wanted to do something big for myself because I thought it would make people proud of me.”

Dolores hummed. She hummed and twisted to put Mirabel’s body against her own to show what she could not voice. To show that, even back when they didn’t know each other, Dolores would always be in her corner.

”Why be the moon when you could be the stars? Why be one big thing when you could be billions of little things that far surpass the one big thing you’re known for? You already were the moon, now it’s time to break apart and be many other things of your choice that you enjoy being.”

Mirabel sniffled, crawled closer in acknowledgment, and smiled. “I never thought of it that way. You’re right.”

”I had I feeling I would be.”

”Shut up.”

Dolores chuffed out a small laugh and sunk in closer to the smaller body,”Buenas noches, mariposa.”

”Buenas noches, Lola.”

~~~

A week later everyone would notice the symbols stitched into Mirabel’s overalls in messy, thread sticking out fashion. But they would all gush and rave over them because they were made with the intent of love.

A chameleon on the front pocket for Camilo, rain drops and sunshine on the cuffs of the pant legs and wrists for her mamá, flowers for Isabela, weights for Lusia, music waves for Dolores, small animals for Antonio, a candle for Abuela, hourglasses for Bruno, and tiny rolling pins for Julieta.

But only Dolores would be told about the stars sewed on the inside over Mirabel’s heart.

And only Dolores would get to grin and kiss her hermanita’s forehead. Her family was being tailored back together one stitch at a time.

Chapter Text

Mirabel woke to the pressure of bodies pouncing on her like she was a spare piece of meat that lions fought over. If it wasn’t for Antonio’s small voice screaming, “Happy birthday, Mira!” her lungs would have closed and the darkness would have seeped through the corners of her eyes.

”What?” She asked through the husk of morning. “It’s…it’s not my birthday..?”

Camilo bounced on top of his hermana, the bed surprisingly making only a small eeek. “What did you forget? It’s March sixth! Your sixteenth birthday.”

Bewildered eyes and tilted head sat in a puddle of latency. Mirabel leaned upwards, never breaking her stare with her hermano. “I didn’t…it’s already been two months since I got here?”

”You actually forgot your birthday?” Came the small voice of inquiry from her four year old hermanito. 

Mirabel gave a tiny, lopsided frown. “It’s not like it was ever celebrated. I’m surprised it took me this long to forget about it.”

”Fuck—I mean…Antonio don’t repeat that—you’ll like what mamá is preparing then.” Camilo did not expand further; taking Antonio and hastened out the door.

He threw a quick, “Get dressed!” and slammed his bedroom door shut.

~~~

Luminescent waters glistened off the freckles adorning Mirabel’s face. They rippled as she glided her fingers above the water, only enough to break the surface. She made sure to take her time, watching the way the ripples would disfigure her reflection.

It was hard to see the girl that laid in a weak pile of her own blood and limbs. It was hard to find the girl that stared back at her once when she had sunk her body into the new clothes Dolores bought her. That girl was scared. That girl had padres that would punish her in severe ways.

But the girl with the disfigured reflection due to the ripples in the glistening water…didn’t. She had pretty brown eyes sitting idly behind big glasses with green frames. This girl had a smile. A smile that could compete with the water basking in the fountain.

This girl was sixteen. This girl was sixteen and had a mamá and a papá and cousins and siblings and people that had not once touched her in a way that left the burn of pain and the wet cement of self-loathing.

The pitter, patter, pitter, patter of light footsteps didn’t disturb the fingers making the fountain water ripple nor the girl sitting on the fountain.

”Can I come home yet?” Mirabel sighed, gazing at the water form of herself. She need not to look at whom the footsteps came from. She had already known it was Dolores.

”That’s why I’m here. Mamá said it’s safe now,” Dolores spoke as softly as she could and smoothed out her skirt before sitting down. 

“Good. I’ve been out here for ages!”

”It’s been an hour.”

”Yeah! Ages! I didn’t even get to hear happy birthday before Pepa was dragging me out here.”

Dolores playfully rolled her eyes, lips pursing into a confined smile. “Well, we’re ready now. And, happy birthday, Mira.”

”Thank you.” Mirabel buried herself in Dolores’s side. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

”Around what?” Dolores patted mindlessly on her hermanita’s back.

”That I’m here. That I’m not with them. That I’ve heard ‘happy birthday’ for the first time ever.”

Dolores squeezed tighter and sighed, “Be ready to hear many more. You’re a Madrigal now. Well, always have been, but it’s official. Now we should go—I can taste the mildew in the air. If we keep Mamá waiting she might storm.”

They walked in silence; the townspeople paying some attention. They gave a few happy birthdays here and there while the two girls walked arm in arm back up the hill.

Mirabel felt light like a feather. One cusp of wind and she would go fluttering out of the Encanto. A feeling she didn’t have a word for floated about her stomach and crawled its way up to her head. It stitched a smile to her face and pumped blood into her heart.

Casita was oddly quiet. Way too quiet for Mirabel’s liking. 

Then the door opened and her entire family jumped out screaming, “Happy Birthday, mariposa!” while Mirabel shrieked and jumped onto Dolores.

Gasping for air, an overwhelming concoction of shock and excitement gunned her down and left tiny holes through her flesh. The skin did not patch as she was let down from Dolores’s hold; the skin stretched farther apart as her eyes wandered from her family to the decor. 

Streamers of colored variety hung off of every banister, tables of food lodged in the remoter corners of the room, and a banner bungeed down from the second floor with HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIRABEL! scrawled all over it; she could tell that it was a family effort by the tiny pictures added on. And one table with what looked, and grew, like a mountain of gifts for her.

Mirabel Valentina Rojas Madrigal. They were for her and her only. 

She fell to her knees, breath hitching behind the unsurpassable bubble of letters streaming from her lips. The floor was moist with warmth as the droplets of her life exploded on it. Her hands looked like muddled paws through her tainted vision.

“Nube? Nube, what’s wrong? Did we do something? Do you not like it?” Pepa was crouching beside her hija. She’d hug the girl, but when Mirabel was hunched over on her knees it was better to give the space needed.

She did not want to push the girl into a panic attack. The memory of last week wizzed by her eyes, she grimaced, clenching her teeth to keep herself grounded.

”I - I love it! It’s - it’s amazing and I’ve never…never had anything like this ever in my life!” Mirabel hiccuped through the stringing letters. She raised her head to stare at pepa.

”I - I love you. All of you guys,” Mirabel said and tackled Pepa in a hug. Even though the last words were muffled, everyone heard.

And they all reciprocated the feeling.

~~~

The party drug on through the entire night. It was still riding high. The lights were blurred, streamers laid on the floor, and all the presents had been opened.

But Mirabel did not want to stop.

There was still enough time to go for hours more. Firstly, she needed a break. Dancing with Pepa and her family was tiring. Even more so when she still did not know how to move in the ways that Pepa made look so easy.

With hands flying there, and a leg going here, and eyes looking at him then the floor. When she tried her hands went here instead of there, her legs when up when they should have gone straight, and her eyes lost focus too often it made her want to vomit up the cake she’d eaten.

Leaning on the wall, Mirabel thunked the back of her head on the wall and slipped her eyes closed. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt.

”Having fun?” A voice melodically phased through the blaring music.

Mirabel cracked an eye open and found herself staring at a girl with a mop of brown curls and pink lips stretched into a ranging grin. The face was familiar, but she could not put a name to it.

She had seen a lot of new people tonight.

”Yeah. Though dancing is so draining,” Mirabel laughed, straightening herself.

”I can second that,” the girl chuckled. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Vivian. Vivian Hildago.”

Mirabel grinned and took Vivian’s hand—it was warm, slightly moist from sweat, and felt great in her own hand. “Mirabel. Mirabel Pel—Madrigal. Mirabel Madrigal.”

”Well, Mirabel, happy birthday.” 

“Thanks. It’s been the entire day and I still can’t believe this. The party, the people, the everything. I’ve never had so many people acknowledge just me before. It’s…well if I’m to be honest, overwhelming.”

Vivian stared out into the swimming wave of perfectly conducted bodies. It almost was as if they planned it to look like a seamless wave crashing up and down.

”I think you’re going to get used to it now that you’re a Madrigal.”

”Except for not having a gift…” Mirabel tore her vision away from the crowd and thumbed her arm.

It was pure fact. She powered no gift. Nothing to show that she was a Madrigal except one piece of flammable paper. No tingling feeling she thought came with the spark of magic coursing around using her veins as a race track.

”Who says you need a gift?”

”The last name—“

”Did that stop literally anyone in your family from accepting you as family?”

”N-No, but—“

”Then you’re a Madrigal. No more said on that matter. And, who knows, maybe you were the gift the Madrigals needed.”

Casita seemed to love the words spilling from Vivian’s mouth as tiles flipped and the floor moved in mimicry of a conveyer belt. Suddenly Mirabel was being pushed into the crowd of seamless bodies and forced at the entrance of the house.

The rest of the floor moved the party goers to the sides and flippantly raved to get someone’s attention.

Vivian stared wide eyed at Mirabel, having been moved near the girl. She mouthed what the fuck to the birthday girl wearing red overalls with messy embroidered symbols proudly presented on them.

Mirabel mouthed back I don’t fucking know.

Alma rushed to the middle and shot her eyes trying to keep pace with the sentient house. “Casita? Casita what’s going on?”

Tiles at the feet of Mirabel extending all the way up the stairs and at the empty space between Dolores and Isabela’s door bounced and biffed in arousal.

”Casita I don’t…what are you telling us?”

The party was put on pause, everyone going silent; a stark contrast from five minutes before with excited yells and flurrying bodies seduced to the natural charismatic atmosphere Casita contained.

”Are you…are you giving Mirabel a room?” Abuela’s fingers latched around the locket on her neck.

As if those words were the signal, a blinding flash of pure white ferociously engulfed the room. Spots danced around the eyes of all in attendance, and when they left a new door was between Isabela and Dolores’s.

Untouched.

Mirabel eyed Vivian in disbelief. I blame you she mouthed.

Vivian jittered in utter confusion. I swear I didn’t know that would happen.

The light, fuzzy feeling vanished and was replaced with a wet cement sticking her to the floor. Everything was heavy; even her eyelashes. She didn’t want to move. That wasn’t real.

That door was not there.

Her throat pulsed with her heart mimicking the fluctuations of her shaking hands.

Pepa came whirling out of the crowd. Mirabel’s mouth dropped. “What do I do, mami?” 

Pepa froze as if she had been stuck in her own blizzard. “Did you just…”

Mirabel’s eyes went wide at the realization of how deep the words sunk. She could hear the clink they made when hitting the bottom of the well she thought she’d never revisit.

But she didn’t take it back. It felt right. It was right. She would be sticking to her words.

”I need you, mami,” Mirabel whispered, tears striking her eyes, she held her hand out.

Pepa wasted no time in running over and intertwining their fingers together like silky lace. “And I’ll always be here.” Pepa kissed the side of Mirabel’s head.

”I don’t know what to do.”

Pepa smiled in the face of the eyes that once had been filled with fear. Filled and glazed over with terror of what came next. The lack of a promising future. The kind of future that was abandoned and had never been graced with hope dressed as a knight in shining armor.

But now were filled with trust. Stuffed full of a bright future. A future that was held up by family.

”You open it. Now, we should go.”

Pepa guided her sixteen year old, gaining family members as Dolores clung to Mirabel’s other side, Antonio hung on her shoulders, and the rest of the cousins finding some way to be near Mirabel.

To express that she would never have to be alone again.

The uurk of the last step faded into nothing as Mirabel stood not one foot away from something she’d always dreamed of. Something she had wished for, for her entire life.

And then she reached out and touched it. Is that what achieving your dream feels like? Warm and bubbly? She finally took the leap and touched her dream. And it was bubbly.

Squinting, Mirabel watched as another white flash went off and settled into an engraving of herself. Her named scribbled at the top and ridged with a beautiful carving of herself holding the candle.

She shuffled around. Her feet moved but it wasn’t her doing. She was a timid little girl hiding in her room waiting for her padres to stop fighting. She was the little girl that got taken to taverns to be punished. 

She was not the girl that turned around to look at her family. She was not the girl to have oceans of people partying at her birthday party.

She doesn’t get parties. She doesn’t get acknowledged. She doesn’t—

“I love you so much, nube.” Mirabel was smushed into a hug as her mami sobbed into her hair.

“I love you too,” Mirabel replied. She resurfaced, coughing up the vile water she had swallowed, and opened her eyes to what was right in front of her.

Maybe the last name wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could be both girls. She could be both. She refused to hold the little girl she used to be in her arms and watch the blood spurt out of her mouth as she died.

She wouldn’t let her die. She wouldn’t let more blood splatter.

~~~

”I’m no Pepa Madrigal, but would you, maybe, want to dance?” Vivian titled her head, skin stretching to show off her jaw line.

Mirabel blinked, stared dumbfounded, and blindly agreed. Vivian clapped, pulled Mirabel into the middle of the room, and put her arms around Mirabel’s slim, curved shoulders.

Mirabel put her hands around Vivian’s waist—after some hesitance. “I don’t actually know how to dance,” Mirabel leaned forwards and admitted.

”I know,” Vivian giggled. “But who cares? I don’t.”

Mirabel pulled back, nodding. Both of them moved around the room, Vivian showing Mirabel a move once in a while, and got lost in the sea of the perfect wave once again.

As if another white explosion went off, Mirabel watched, and experienced, the entire thing on mute. But the room was as if the colors had been enhanced way beyond their years as they became brighter and livelier. She could see the orange and blue and viper pink jump off the walls and play a never ending game of cat and mouse.

Her stomach felt bottomless and tingled with an emotion that sat just right with the lack of nutritious food digesting. Vivian was close. Close enough to smell the fresh linen and ripe limes misting away from her. Mirabel herself was swallowed whole in a comforting blanket of heat. 

The room was growing hot, or was it just her? Was she growing hot because of the closeness at which she and Vivian paced at? Green eyes flickered at the brown ones that had reflected many sights that they had started to grow heavy; their capacity was growing full.

”What?” Vivian giggled in that sweet tone that didn’t match the lime emanating from her. “Do I have something on my face?”

Mirabel barely heard Vivian as she kept returning to the racing thoughts flying behind her glasses. “N - no. Your face is perfect—fine. Your face is fine.”

She bit down on her lip until blood crowned around her teeth, feeling the heat sizzle on her cheeks. 

“I could teach you how to dance, if you wanted?” Vivian promulgated, inching closer so she could be heard through the band strumming and beating away at their instruments.

Mirabel let out a shaky exhale, refusing to meet the green eyes with a capacity for many more sights and faces, “I would like that.”

Vivian let out a wail of unabashed noise and twirled Mirabel. “Great! Just stop by my house anytime you want.”

Mirabel squawked, covering her mouth, surprised at the unknown noise that came from her throat. She regained composure and let the girl with moppy brown hair lull her into more dancing.

As the night collapsed far into the early morning and she settled down in her new room, she felt content. Watching the room expand before her very eyes was unbelievable, unorthodox, something she thought would only be left to the confines of her imagination.

But seeing the queen bed with a red duvet, a huge sewing station, a wardrobe and closet fit for three, and a vanity appear out of thin, magical air knocked around a few sea shells inside her.

Her entire life she felt stranded on an island, drowning at sea. Now, it wasn’t an island but a home. A home that took a village to build. 

Her cocoon broke, the sea spit her out, and she deemed her party a success as she laid her head on the cushiony pillow and let her eyes close.

Chapter Text

“F - papí, can - can I talk to you?” Mirabel asked, peeking her disarrayed curls through his bedroom door.

Félix smiled and propped the door open all the way. “I was just about to take a walk, why don’t you come with me?”

Mirabel gnawed on her lip, checking both ways as if she were being watched. “O - Okay,” came the small voice of acceptance.

They did not talk while walking across the house. Mirabel did not acknowledge anyone during the way. Her body held rigid; stuck up and froze like that. Her birthday kept looping over and over in her head and the eject button was broken. From beginning till end it played and played and played. 

“Chiquita, you’re safe, you know? You don’t have to be stiff and look like everyone is about to attack you,” he said it as a joke, but jokes do hold half truths.

Mirabel heard a muffled cacophony. She blinked and suddenly she was greeted by the suns smiling beat down. She rose her fingers up to provide shade for her eyes.

”N - no it’s just - I’m confused. Confused, happy, and—did I say confused?” The exasperation was thick in her voice.

Félix rose a brow at his hija. He’d seen her be many things, but that was new. So brand new that the plastic was still around her, encasing whatever emotions lay inside. 

“Well, I can’t unconfuse you unless I know what’s wrong. What’s happening?” 

Mirabel shoved her hands in her side pockets, looking to the side to avoid the rays of sunlight. The crunching of leaves enhanced now that she let silence settle over the two of them.

”There’s this person. They have been racing around my head since I met them at my party,” The dryness of her throat did not help to slick the words out.

Félix nodded along, a neutral look taking over his face. This was about a person. About a new relationship that he did not know if he’d approve of so easily.

”And I don’t know what to do about it. I’m feeling things I don’t know if I should feel, my head is weighed down with a weight I’m not sure should be there, and I don’t know if they feel this too.” She motioned her hands up and down herself to accentuate her situation.

“So this girl—“

”I never said she was a girl!” Mirabel stopped in her tracks, her visage going paler than paint.

Félix smiled. “You don’t need to. I can tell by the way your head’s bobbling around.”

”What does that even mean?” The girl whined.

Félix shook his head with an ever growing grin. He put his hand around Mirabel’s bicep to slowly, but effectively, bring her down from her hysteria. “Girls mess with your head, boys mess with your heart. Your head looks so full that it’s hurting mine. Now is this why you’ve been in your room for three days? Because of this girl?”

Mirabel took a breath in, her chest puffing up. She didn’t exhale right away. She wanted to melt in that second of in between. That second where she was allowed to think over her answer carefully and not be rushed into saying things she didn’t mean or want to say.

She exhaled, “Sí,” simple, but effective. “We danced and it was the best feeling I’ve her had. Granted, I don’t know how to dance, but she didn’t care. And - and my stomach felt bottomless and tingly. My head was chocked full of every detail that she made up and everything else just faded away.”

She looked up at her papí with eyes that had a shine to them; the sun bounced off of it and smacked him in the face. His hija was head over heels for someone, a girl no less. 

“It - It feels almost…wrong,” the voice that said the sentence was broken and ghoul-like. And yet, he also knew that it sounded like his daughter, who was on the verge of puddling into a confused river of emotion.

”No, no, no. Don’t you think that,” he assured. He looked around the area; nothing but trees and rocks.

They continued down the manmade path.

”It’s not wrong. It’s not.”

”But why does it feel like it is?”

Félix let his posture go against everything his mamá drilled into him. “Let me tell you a story, Mirabel.”

The aforementioned girl wiped her eyes and shook her head. 

Félix licked his lips. “Believe it or not, I was a teenager once—we all were. Bruno, Julieta, Pepa, me, and Agustín. And we all were the best of friends. . .” He dove deep, head first eyes wide open, into the ocean of storytelling. 

He told about his friend, Juan, that was openly gay and did not take any sort of criticism. He told about how the six of them would hang out every night if they could and did everything the parents told them not to do. And, eventually after passing by assimilated trees and pesky rocks, Félix delved into the tale of Bruno and Juan’s growing relationship.

”Tío had a boyfriend?” Mirabel exclaimed, stopping once again.

”Sí, sí, he did. Now lets keep walking.”

They started back up again and so did the story. He said about the time that Juan kissed Bruno, and Bruno reciprocated. 

“It really was a sweet day,” Félix sighed wistfully. “They dated after that. And, Abuela accepted it. She may have been strict on most things, but love was never one of them. As long as you were happy she didn’t care. It was her goal to have her three kids find love like she did—I doubt that’ll change for you.”

Mirabel was left to grab at the withering story. She wanted to hear more of it. She wanted to hear a solution to her problem. But none of that came with the fleeting specks she reached for.

”Wait, but where is he now? Did they break up?” Mirabel was on her tippy toes reaching for the left over parts of the story.

Félix pulled a grim expression. A nod. “Bruno had a vision and broke it off almost immediately. He never said a word to anyone about what it was—just that it looked bad and he couldn’t hurt Juan like that.”

”But he already did! I mean breaking up hurts, right? So why didn’t they talk it out or something?”

Félix shrugged. “We don’t know, Chiquita. But, now that you know we accept you, let’s talk about your problem.”

Mirabel squirmed on her tippy toes; physically dancing around the subject. “But I - I don’t know what to do! Do I talk to her? Do I not?”

”Yes. You talk to her. Find the most simplest, mundane thing to ask of her and go from there. If the feeling is communal you’ll know.”

Mirabel nodded. It was an empty, space cramming nod, but she didn’t have the capacity to do anything else. Her head was now filled with Bruno’s sappy, sad love story that railed parallel to her own confusion of a could-be-love-story.

”I - I gotta go. Tell mamí that I’ll be home for dinner!” Mirabel called over her shoulder as she ran back down the path she came from, not waiting for Félix’s reply.

~~~

One knock.

Two knocks.

Three knocks.

The dark oak door with many scrapes creeped open. The face that Mirabel had a hard time forgetting took its place right in front of her.

”Oh, hola, Mira. What brings you by?” 

The slacking cogs working Mirabel’s malfunctioning machine for a brain nearly destroyed themselves as Vivian’s breezy, soft voice lofted into the evening air.

”I - Well, uh, I think I want to accept those dance lessons.” She spit out, hoping the blob of syllables could be deciphered.

Vivians smile grew wide and she moved out of the way. “Come in.”

~~~

The dark room suddenly lit up with vibrant green rays of light projecting out of two sources that naturally stay brown. 

The man went down to his knees as the vision sorted itself out. And, this time, when it was over, Bruno smiled.

”Nice, kid. Congratulations in five years,” he muttered to himself.

He felt genuine elation for her. After all she lived through, he knew she deserved the event taking place in five years. But, for now, the hard part would be showing Pepa in secret without causing the rivers to rise and a mass flood.

“You sure are just what this family needed.” His curls bobbed as he shook his head and rose to his feet; dusting himself off in the process. 

“A miracle some would say,” he laughed to himself.

Chapter Text

"Mira, it's not that bad. You're not that bad," Vivian giggled. She left space between her and Mirabel, placing her hands in the air, waiting for Mirabel to insert herself between them like a puzzle piece. "Take my hand and let me teach you how to dance."

No, I don't want you to teach me how to dance.

Mirabel's teeth chattered with nerves, because, honestly, what was she thinking? She should not have listened to papi, she should have just stayed up in her room until the bottomless feeling subsided and she could think without tracing back to her party. But that's what she should have done. Instead, she shakily took a lime and linen scented breath, and stuck herself between Vivian's hands; completing the puzzle. They had the entire house to themselves, it was the perfect opportunity to start the impromptu lessons. Her head buzzed and made her vision fade in and out; screw her glasses, they were no help! She didn't realize Vivian start to move; side, back, side, forwards in a box motion, alternating between the left and right sides. Mirabel began to squirm under Vivian's angelic hands on her waist and gripping her left hand.

Get your heart away from me. You'll put me into a trance. 

Vivian was much too close. The proximity holding six inches away from nose to nose. The box motion was easy, it was the lime and linen scented girl that was making it hard. Mirabel felt that, through papi's words, she did know what this feeling was. Her and Vivian fit together like puzzle pieces to a grand picture -- it terrified her. It left her throat dry and eyes wide with numerous flashes of a future she did not know if Vivian wanted. It couldn't be true, It couldn't. 

And even though I think about you day and night, I'm not sure if this whole love thing sounds quite right. 

'Cause it's not romantic, I swear. I'm not gasping for air.

"See? You're getting the hang of it. If you don't worry too much on the precise movements, it's fun." 

As Mirabel looked, but couldn't quite see through, into Vivian's eyes, she saw something she'd never seen before. The smile was there, and that should have been reason enough, but it was the clear sparkle twinkling into the hues that struck Mirabel. At that moment, Mirabel knew Vivian never cared for the dance lessons, she cared for her. She cared for the sixteen year old jumble of healing memories, marred skin, and scarred past. The dance lessons were purely for luring Mirabel into the trap--that she baited painfully obvious--and Mirabel obliviously tumbled into it with ruffled thoughts and spewing sentences.

"Y - yeah, I see. It is fun," Mirabel whispered. 

She stopped squirming and let herself lock in with the yet-to-be-revealed grand picture that she knew would contain Vivian. A smiled hitched her lips up to her ears and she became more fluid with her movements. Right side, back, left side, forward they repeated over and over until Mirabel felt confident enough to do it without looking down. The dance became more complex the longer they went.

until, Mirabel went in for a spin--reaching her left hand as far up as it would go to make sure Vivian could complete the circle motion--and when they had reconnected, she was looking at a completely different woman. This woman had longer hair tied up in a messily strewn bun, green eyes that had been softened to a doe-y shape, but still the same smile. And, that's what had Mirabel hooked. It wasn't a different woman, it was vivian.

Her girlfriend. Because they were dancing to the silence--with the exception of the occasional pant of their breaths--in the dark courtyard of casita. Right, the scenery changed as well. They were no longer dancing in the candle-lit house that Vivian lived in, but barefoot on the cool, multicolored tiles of the sentient house Mirabel grew accustomed to. Four years came and went in the blink of an eye; It showed on their appearances. Mirabel's hair grew, she kept it short, but grew enough to tickle her shoulders and cover her eyes. She got taller, too. The symbolically adorned overalls didn't change--she'd never get rid of them. Vivian caught Mirabel sitting alone in the dark, a cup of water accompanying her side, and invited her to a dance for just the two of them.

Mirabel could never deny that pink lipped smile.

The air lingered with an electric current that put Mirabel on her toes. It ruffled her hair, and zapped her heart into an electrifying current of beating muscles. She knew it was the perfect moment.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too," Vivian replied.

Mirabel only shook her head, a grin of her own taking over the entirety of her face. 

We're only getting older, baby. And...

She spun herself around and, when she came back to face the woman she grew to accept that lovey feeling for, she held a ring and knelt to the floor. "I've been thinking about it lately..." She finished her thought out loud. "Vivian, I love you. I have since the say I met you at my party. Will you marry me?" Breathless, she waited for Vivian's response.

What she got was pulled back upwards by strong hands on her collar and lips crashing onto her own. The heat between them left Mirabel's face melting and lips burning. "Yes, you dork!" Vivian screamed between their connected lips. Mirabel felt the words cram down her throat and detonate in her stomach, jostling the undigested food around her stomach as if it were a mosh pit. 

Mirabel slid the ring on and continued their dance as if there were no interruptions. But, as soon as they passed behind a pillar and back out into the open floor, they were met yet again in a different setting. This one she recognized easily. It was casita still, only it was decorated with white streamers, tables careened with foods, and music lowly streaming throughout the house. Vivian was housed in a white dress, lace covering the bodice. Mirabel had her own white dress made of the finest silk one could pay for. Pepa had almost demanded it. The one night Mirabel could abandon the rustically symbolic red overalls that, at times, felt like were the only things keeping her together. Keeping her from bursting at the seams into a pile of her own discombobulated arms and legs.

The "I do's," had been said, along with the vows, and ceremony. It was just the two of them dancing on the floor. Mirabel never did like the spotlight, but she loved the smile peeking out through it. 

Memories turn into day dreams. 

Become a taboo.

Before, the future was all Mirabel could focus on. The future was something she could find solace in. Even through its noncommittal treasury, Mirabel trusted her jewels in the chest. She didn't know where it all changed, but it did. Because now as she grew, another year passing, memories were the best thing she could treasure. Now as she danced with her wife, she could do, and be, nothing but a mere spectator to the night of her sixteenth party. When she was right there, and yet a million miles away watching the whole thing on mute. Watching herself, a differently split version of herself, dance with a girl she did not know. Maybe that's where it all changed. Maybe right in that moment the whole earth shifted on its axis and, for a harrowing moment, derailed only to be put back into place perfectly once again. Maybe that was the moment she finally stopped chugging for the future and began living for the memories she was, and still is, making.

Maybe back then she did not need to know Vivian to be aligned with her. 

"I don't want to be afraid. The deeper that I go, it takes my breath away." Mirabel didn't know what made her say it. What possessed her to blurt it out. She'd only been digging in her brain, filing and sorting through the good and bad, when she suddenly felt waist deep in water she swore was only ankle deep. It was cold, but yet spine-tingling.

Soft hearts, electric souls.

"Heart to heart and eyes to eyes?" Vivian asked Mirabel, readjusting her position to be closer to the woman in silk. That saying...well they hadn't known the exact date they started to say it. But when they did it meant they had to be completely, brutally honest. Heart string pulling heart string and eye's windowing true emotion.

Their motions resided to a slow, circular shuffle. Mirabel nodded, yes.

Is this taboo?

"baby, we built this house on memories."

Take my picture now, shake it till you see it.

"And when your fantasies become your legacy, promise me a place in your house of memories." Vivian met Mirabel nose to nose and kissed her. 

Mirabel didn't hesitate to reciprocate the action. Their conversation might have sounded like unsolvable riddles to some, but for the couple they knew exactly what it meant. They knew that no matter how many years flew by, or how many troubles they'd see, their house made of peculiar polaroids would stay standing. And both of them would have a special, golden frame around their places for one another. 

To them, that's all that really matters.

Chapter Text

Mirabel flopped against one of casita's walls and took a deep breath in. Luisa's twenty-fifth birthday party had been the loudest, craziest one yet. Under her clothes she could still feel the trembling fifteen year old girl ramming against her chest. Yelling at her to get out, to go home because there will be consequences from Rico if she doesn't. And she can still feel that same little girl shrivel up like a neglected plant because the crowd was too big. All the eyes and bodies shredding her to pieces that will get trampled on. She doesn't heed to the little girl's wishes. She lets the ramming become her heart beat, and she lets that plant get plucked so a new one can be planted. So she can always start anew.

She has family, a true family.

She has a wonderful wife who can dance any terrible emotion away.

She has older cousins and practically a twin who will always protect her as she would them.

She has an amazing mama and papa. Two awkward and hilarious tios. A tia who wears her heart on her sleeve even when it gets dampened. And a little brother who has too much energy to contain.

But...

"Doing good?" Dolores's voice was light and soft, as if she herself had become a transparent mist on an august morning. "Need me to get Viv--"

"No. No, I'm good. I'm fine. I was just taking a minute to breathe," Mirabel chuckled, rearing upwards to stand straight. She scanned the crowd before leaning toward Dolores's ear. "Besides, if i was having a panic attack I'd much rather you than Vivian. Don't tell her that, though."

You couldn't hear it over the music, but Dolores laughed. Her shoulders slightly hitching gave it away. "Your secret is safe with me."

Mirabel nodded and rested her head on her hermana's shoulder, her hair falling to create a thin curtain over her eyes. As their family partied like tomorrow would vanish, the two sisters stood there watching it. As every minute was tossed aside by their family members they were the ones catching them and making them mean something. "...You know, don't you?" Dolores didn't shift as she said the words.

"Yeah...I do."

"We will keep them away from you. I promise, Mirabel, I do. We can--"

Mirabel giggled, taking her head off of the boney shoulder. She grinned widely at Dolores. 

"What's funny?"

"I know Rico and Gabriela are back because I let them back."

Mouth agape, Dolores's eyes went wide. That didn't make sense. Mirabel was the one to banish them; why let them back? "You..you did?" 

the younger woman nodded as a confident hum vibrated through her closed lips. "That I did, Dolores. That I did." 

Now as the party trucked through the minutes, making a pile up, neither girl cared to make something out of them. The tossed aside minutes began to make piles and piles around them as Dolores searched for the right minute that would make things make sense. As the piles grew into large, intimidating beasts, making Dolores cower, She gave up. Nothing clicked, nothing fell into place, it was just her, the discarded minutes, and a smiling Mirabel. 

"Why?"

"Gabriela is pregnant."

"How can you--"

"We had the town doctor check her out. She is very much pregnant. I know she and Rico used this as a tactic to be welcomed back, believe me they're not going to be, so I'm letting them think that. I allowed them into their old house for the rest of the pregnancy."

Dolores's chest deflated as she let all of the pent up air out of her lungs. She stared at the clump of dancing bodies. "What happens after?"

Mirabel rested back on the wall, staring at the ceiling. "I adopt the baby, they go back into the woods on completely different sides, while being under watch. That is until a jail can be built, then they go down there."

"Adopting the baby? Mirabel...how...how did I not hear about this sooner?" 

"Remember that night when I was sleeping in your room and Abuela asked for me?"

A nod.

"Right, well that was the day Rico came to tell us about Gabriela. And, well, I am the next candle holder, so everyone kind of left that up to me. I asked Vivian what she thought and she said she was ready so I went back to tell Abuela the plan was good to go. Everyone agreed to the plan. I just wanted to be the one to tell you. I know how you are with me, so I wanted everything to come from me."

Mirabel could see the gears turning behind that red bow of Dolores's. "Oh, don't give me that look!" 

"I'm giving you a look of concern. Ever heard of it?" 

"Concern makes me uncomfortable, say "Fuck off," instead and I'll understand you better." 

"Mirabel I am not above smacking you."

"Oh, fun, last time I played this game I ended up with a new set of parents. What will my prize be this time?."

"Mirabel, joke about Rico another time. I need you to be serious."

"...Fine, fine. I am serious, though."

Dolores put her hands on her hips, her eyebrows pulling down into a hard V.

"I am! Look, we all know Abuela doesn't have much time. She was lucky to see my wedding, and it was a miracle that she got to hold your son, Milo. I need to be ready to take her place, so they let me decide what to do. I left no string loose nor loophole untightened. Abuela has given me most everything by now and Vivian is on board with adopting the baby. She said yes before I could even finish my sentence. Aaaand, the jail will be built this winter so this can't happen again."

Arms falling, Dolores pulled Mirabel into a tight hug. "That's all I needed to hear. I'm proud of you...both of you. That little girl inside would be gleaming right now. I know this because she's right here, in my arms." 

But most of all, Mirabel didn't have an older sister. She had a Dolores. She had a super-hearing woman with a protective fierceness that would rip anyone to shreds if challenged. 

She was fine. She was okay. She was...healed.

Wiping her eyes, Mirabel pulled away with a soft grin on her face. "Are we done with the seriousness now?"

Dolores dropped her head and nodded.

"Great!" Mirabel grabbed her hermana's hand and pulled her into the crowd shouting, "I think it's time you owe me a dance!"