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“I don't even need to change the world. (Change, change the world.) I'll make the moon shine just for your view; I'll make the starlight circle the room. (Circle the room.) And if you feel like night is falling, I wanna be the one you're calling, ‘cause I believe that you could lead the way. I just wanna be somebody to someone, oh. I wanna be somebody to someone, oh. I never had nobody and no road home, I wanna be somebody to someone.” - Someone To You, Banners
The first gift Mirabel received on her sixteenth birthday made her cry. No, don’t worry! It was happy tears; extremely happy tears.
The outside of her bedroom door had been painted, top to bottom, in symbols to represent her family and her name had been painted in gold on top of the door. The door was covered in purple, blue and orange flowers with spiky petals and leaves; there were pink and teal hearts, and buzzing bees. There were soft grey and blue dumbbells and three yellow chameleons running in a line. Then it had the same red lines as on Dolores’s clothes and black and red musical notes, orange paw-prints and a prowling jaguar; there was a bright yellow sun surrounded by rainbows, clouds, lightning, snowflakes and raindrops, and a rainbow-coloured umbrella. There was a green hourglass with a ring of grey rats around it, and the Miracle candle. Towards the middle, there was even a miniature Casita.
Weaving in and out of it all, was swarms of golden butterflies.
Mirabel recognised her uncle’s handiwork in an instant.
Sobbing and laughing, she screamed, “Tio!” and ran to Bruno’s room, jumping onto his bed as if she was still Antonio’s age and tackling her half-awake uncle into a bone crushing hug that would make Luisa proud.
Let it be known that Mirabel did not play favourites. Really, she promised. It was just that…Y’know, Bruno understood her. He knew what it was like to feel as if every step you took, every move you made, was wrong. He knew what it was like to be on the outside looking in.
Mirabel knew she could be clumsy; she was energetic and overly enthusiastic, awkward and nosey. Abuela used to sigh when Mirabel was loud and tut when Mirabel stumbled. Isabela used to roll her eyes and tell her to shut up.
It was different now, everyone and everything was different now, but Bruno hadn’t given a damn about Mirabel’s perceived shortcomings. He hadn’t cared about her lack of a Gift. He’d fully believed in her anyway.
“When you save the Miracle, come visit?”
When. Not if. He’d completely believed in her.
It had been the push Mirabel needed to keep going.
And now this; he’d decorated her door. He couldn’t make it glowing and magical, but he’d made it just as vibrant and eye-catching as Mirabel’s embroidery. He’d clearly paid attention to Mirabel’s favourite colours and patterns; she always wore things to symbolise her family.
“He spent all night on it,” Dolores whispered to her during breakfast. Mirabel felt like she was going to start crying again and she couldn’t stop smiling. She wanted to run from the table and go stare at her door. Her door, her room, her own decorations.
Things really were different.
While Julieta fussed, saying, “My baby’s growing up!” and Abuela smiled and said Mirabel was growing into a young woman to be proud of, Mirabel felt like she was floating, up in the sky on cloud nine.
Félix raised his coffee to her in a toast and Pepa had a rainbow over her head. Antonio sat next to her, excitedly telling her that her presents were in the living room, waiting to be unwrapped (and of course he asked if he could help unwrap them).
Camilo shifted into a twin of Mirabel, sticking his tongue out at her. Isabela made her a flower-crown of bright, beautiful, spiky flowers. Luisa burst into tears, even more emotional than Julieta. Agustín promised they were going to have the best birthday party ever.
Bruno caught her eye and smiled wryly, still struggling to stay awake. Mirabel beamed at him, feeling like all her love was going to burst out of her chest.
How in the world was she ever going to top this gift?
Tio Bruno had his own door and, in any case, it was much less fierce now. Besides, Mirabel doubted you could paint over magic.
What’s more, this wasn’t a competition. She didn’t need to outdo Bruno and she knew he’d insist she didn’t owe him anything. It was a birthday present, not a challenge.
Still, Mirabel swore that, when the triplets’ birthday came around, she’d make sure that her gift for Bruno was perfect.
After all, she had months to decide on something.
Okay, truth be told, it didn’t even take Mirabel months to come up with an idea. In fact, it only took her a day. Still, she had some self control; she waited a while to get started.
Well, she waited a week. That counted, right?
She’d already embroidered a new ruana for Bruno (and he’d looked suspiciously teary-eyed) and she knew other members of the family would get him books, art stuff, notebooks and pens, clothes or things for his rats. Isabela would probably make some lavender oil to help with sleeping; according to Bruno it worked like magic.
“...No pun intended,” he’d said with a sigh as Camilo loudly snorted. Casita bounced about, laughing too.
So, yeah, Mirabel had already done clothes. Everyone in her family had received some clothing from her at some point in their lives. It was practically a Mirabel tradition.
But if there was one thing her uncle who napped anywhere and everywhere needed, it was a good blanket.
It was a good excuse to practice her knitting.
Waiting until October was torture. Mirabel looked at the box where she’d hidden the blanket under her bed and sighed. She made yet another mental note to herself about self-control.
She got started on Julieta and Pepa’s presents anyway.
Hey, no one ever said she was good at taking her own advice.
On the triplets’ birthday, Mirabel was up bright and early. She grabbed the box from under her bed and positively sprinted to Bruno’s room.
She once more woke him up by jumping onto the bed. At least this time he hadn’t been up all night painting.
Granted, he also woke up screaming. Mirabel screamed in fright which made him scream more. For a moment, they both sat there screaming aimlessly.
A distant part of her mind wondered just how hard Julieta and Alma would roll their eyes if they saw this.
Finally, Bruno clapped a hand over his mouth and over Mirabel’s, staring at her with wide eyes. Mirabel shrugged sheepishly and held the box out. She’d tied it with green and silver ribbons.
Slowly, Bruno lowered his hands, looking on the verge of a heart attack.
“Kid,” he whispered. “That was cute when you were four. Now you risk breaking my ribs.”
“Okay, first of all, we’re the same height. Second of all, you’re not that frail anymore,” Mirabel said. She nodded to the box and added, “Happy birthday!” with a smile.
Bruno stared at her and then at the box, as if he’d never seen such a thing in his life. Gently, he took the box from her hands and was supremely careful as he untied the ribbons. Camilo normally tore his presents open, much like his parents; even Julieta wasn’t as slow and cautious as Bruno was being, as if afraid of even slightly damaging the ribbons.
He set them on his bedside table (and quickly knocked on the edge of the table) and opened the box.
His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open.
Bruno lifted the blanket and shook it out, quietly examining the pattern.
The blanket itself was spring green with a darker green border. And the pattern? It was an exact replica of the one he’d painted on Mirabel’s door. It was a thick blanket and made from the softest wool Mirabel could get her hands on.
“Oh,” Bruno mumbled, staring and staring at the blanket, his eyes getting progressively wider. “Mirabel…Mariposa, I- you didn’t…”
“Do you like it?” Mirabel asked hopefully. She even crossed her fingers.
In answer, Bruno pulled her into a tight hug, the blanket squished between them.
“You’re brilliant, kid,” Bruno said. “Absolutely brilliant, you know that?”
Mirabel clung to him, her cheek on his shoulder.
Birthdays and gifts weren’t a competition…But Mirabel couldn’t resist matching her favourite uncle.
Just don’t tell Félix she said that.
