Chapter Text
“I don’t understand,” Mirabel insisted, cleaning her glasses, “There were cracks everywhere. The candle, it nearly went out. Tiles were falling.”
Isabela snorted, rolling her eyes at her.
“The Miracle is strong,” Abuela insisted, “And so are the drinks!” she announced.
Mirabel blinked in confusion, she hadn’t believed her? She must not have if she was trying to get everyone back into Antonio’s room, sending Luisa for the piano and having her Papa play a joyful song.
Mirabel glanced at the party, she really wasn’t in the mood to celebrate with the family. The memory of her own failed ceremony and the sudden appearance of the cracks and then disappearance. Even her Mama had left without sparing her a second glance. Mama always gave her a quick kiss and a hug whenever they cross paths.
She glanced down at her hand, the jagged cut from the broken tile bleeding steadily. She hadn’t imagined it. The proof was right there. If she had imagined the cracks and the broken tiles, then how had she cut her hand? She better find something to heal it before it got infected, or before the injury got too old for her Mama’s food to heal.
As she moved to make it to the kitchen, sure there was tons of food in Antonio’s room, but she really didn’t want to go back there, a hand grabbed her by the shoulder, a crash of thunder telling her who it was.
“Tia,” she exclaimed, cradling her injured hand in her good one, “What do you want.”
“What do you think you were doing?” Pepa exclaimed, “Look I get it, your gift ceremony didn’t go as planned, but that does not give you the right to ruin mi Tonito’s night like this.”
“I didn’t, I wasn’t… I’m not...” Mirabel stammered, before holding up her hand, “Look, I cut my ha...”
There was a loud crash of thunder and a flash of lightning as Pepa let out a shout, “I don’t want to hear any of your excuses! Just go to the nursery and wait there until Abuela or Julieta can deal with you!”
Pepa turned on her heels, storming back up to the party, pulling her braid and muttering “Clear skies” to herself, not even looking back at her sobrina, who laid in a heap of the entryway, the back of her shirt smoking.
…
Dolores frowned as Abuela got the magicians to play their instruments again Everyone was talking and the noise was giving her a headache. Luisa stumbled as the piano nearly slipped from her hands as Tio Agustin played a jolly tune. Somewhere there was a loud crash, someone setting off fireworks perhaps, or maybe Mama was burning off stream after the interruption. She should tell her the truth, she should tell the whole family the truth.
She walked up to Alma, gently tugging on her skirt to get her attention, “Abuela,” she hissed gently in her ear, “Mirabel was telling the truth about the cracks, I heard them, and if you were paying attention, Mirabel’s hand was bloody.”
“I know that the cracks are real,” Alma snapped, “But there is no reason to panic the whole Encanto. We’ll figure this out by ourselves.”
“You knew about the cracks?” Dolores demanded, “And you still told the whole Encanto that Mirabel was drunk?”
“Mirabel is fifteen, the strong drinks are easily accessible, and everyone is just going to think she got a little carried away, or that she was trying to take the edge off of painful memories. Everyone would have forgotten about it by tomorrow morning you’ll see. No harm will be done.”
Dolores gave her Abuela a look of disgust, let out a squeak, and left to find her tia and tio, surely they would be willing to listen to her and do something.
…
Pepa took a deep calming breath, waving her cloud away before reentering her youngest’s room. The party was back in full swing, the musicians playing loudly so that everyone could hear them, and Dolores stood near the entrance with her hands clasped tightly over her ears. Ay, here she was yelling at Mirabel when she should have been taking care of her own children.
She slowly walked up to Dolores, who had her eyes screwed shut as well.
“If you want to go to your room, I’ll make excuses for you,” Pepa offered.
Dolores, however, shook her head, “No, I can’t I need to talk to Tia, but every time I take my hands off my ears to listen for her, the noise gets to be too much and I can’t.”
Pepa knelt in front of the twenty-one-year-old, “What is it that you wanted to tell Tia?” she asked, “Maybe I can pass the information along.”
Hazel eyes looked up to look into green ones, and, in a soft voice that Pepa almost couldn’t hear over the noise of the party, Dolores announced, “Abuela lied about Mirabel, and about the cracks. I heard them, and when I told her about it, she admitted that she knew about the cracks.”
Pepa’s heart dropped, “Mama lied?” she asked nervously, picturing Mirabel in her mind, the way she had looked when she had yelled at her. Her heart shattered as she realized something that hadn’t registered in her tempered state… Mirabel’s hand really had been covered in blood. She had tried to tell her that she had been hurt, and she had yelled at her, “Why would Mama lie about this?” Pepa’s voice seemed small and distant even from her own ears.
Dolores shrugged, “She said by claiming that Mirabel was drunk she prevented a mass panic and everyone will forget about it because it was a teenage girl having her first experience with alcohol.”
“Mama must not remember that when it comes to the wrongs that La Familia Madrigal does, the villagers' memories are long,” Pepa pointed out, “Mirabel is going to be teased and hounded about the drunk comment for years to come thanks to Mama,” she took a deep breath, “And my yelling at her for interrupting the party probably didn’t help her night any. I need to find her and apologize,” Pepa bent down and pressed a kiss on Dolores's cheek, “Why don’t you go to bed, and I’ll take care of this,” she promised, before turning around and leaving muttering under her breath, “What happened to washing our mouths out with soap every time you caught us lying growing up, huh Mama. Can’t believe I yelled at Mirabel over a lie!”
…
Dolores glanced at her mother, knowing that she would take care of letting the people who needed to know, know so that Mirabel’s reputation wouldn’t take a beating. Mirabel already struggled with being the only giftless Madrigal kid, she couldn’t imagine the teasing the other kids in her class would do if they thought she was a drunk. What would Camilo do? She should find him and tell him that Abuela lied.
Things suddenly got a lot quieter, then she heard her mother’s voice, “It’s getting late, Antonio’s still a growing boy, he needs his sleep.”
“Why should the party be over.”
“I’m not saying the party is over, I’m saying that you can’t party here. This is a five-year-old’s bedroom, and it is an hour past his bedtime he is tired, and so am I, and when I get tired, I get cranky, and none of you want to deal with me cranky!”
Dolores’s eyes grew wide, the party was barely starting, it was only eight-thirty, and Mama was kicking everyone out. Abuela was not going to like that.
…
Mirabel’s interruption had only been a small blimp in what had otherwise been a perfect evening, and Alma had been able to smooth things over with most of the villagers. Now she was talking to Senora Guzman about Mariano’s engagement to Isabela, which was a match made in heaven, her perfect granddaughter with the most perfect, most eligible bachelor in the whole Encanto. She couldn’t wait for Isabela to become a mother so that she could become a bisabuela and have another child to hold and love.
Mariano approached them, “Mama,” he said, “The party’s breaking up,” he announced, “We should head home now, it would be rude to stay longer.”
“What do you mean the party’s over,” Alma demanded, “It isn’t even that late.”
“It is past Antonio’s bedtime and Pepa has asked us all to leave so that she can put him to bed.”
“Nonsense all of the children got to stay up late on their gift ceremony.”
“I don’t really know what is going on, but Pepa has requested that we take the party elsewhere so she can put Antonio down,” Mariano insisted with a shrug, “It seemed like a reasonable request.”
Alma frowned, it was a reasonable request, and Antonio did get cranky when he was tired. Maybe he was starting to act up, and Pepa really did need to put him down for the night.
“It was nice talking to you, Alma,” Senora Guzman announced, “Perhaps we can get together later to make it official.”
“Yes, yes, that will be wonderful,” Alma said, “Now if you excuse me I want to help Pepa clear the room out.
…
It took half an hour to clear out the party. It was only nine o clock, typically the party would last another hour. Alma could hear everyone complaining about it as they were led outside. She was going to have to talk to Pepa, there had better be a good reason why she ended the party early.
She said goodbye to the last of the villagers, closed Casita’s door, and headed back up to Antonio’s room. The rest of the family was waiting for her by his door.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, “Why did you end the party early Josefina?”
Pepa’s cloud popped into view over her head with a loud crash of thunder, “Don’t call me Josefina!” she snapped, “You are on my blacklist right now, Madre.”
“You really shouldn’t call her Josefina,” Camilo announced, “Mami hates it when she’s called Josefina. That always gets you on her blacklist.”
“I am your elder,” Alma snapped, “Honestly Camilo, you need to think before you speak. Now, Pepa, why did you shut down the party early? You aren’t making any attempt on putting Antonio down right now so I doubt that you shut it down for that reason.”
“I shut down the party because I wanted to have a private chat with you about what happened with Mirabel earlier. I figured that sending everyone home so that I can put Antonio down would prevent any of them from eavesdropping.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, Mirabel had a little too much to drink and came up with a story about Casita cracking to get some attention. What is there more to talk about?”
“Perhaps the fact that you lied about it,” Pepa snapped, “The fact is, you knew that Mirabel was telling the truth, and you decided that telling the whole entire village that she was drunk was the best plan.”
“People would panic if they thought something was wrong with the miracle,” Alma insisted, “All I did was keep everyone from panicking. No harm done.”
“No harm done,” Julieta repeated, her tone extremely cold, “No harm done, you made my hija out to be some alcoholic, and you’re saying no harm done.”
“I yelled at Mirabel,” Pepa confessed, “Because I believed you when you said that Mirabel was just doing it for attention.”
“I nearly dropped the piano on Pa because you told us that the magic was strong,” Luisa confessed, causing several eyes to turn on her, “After the cracks… the piano… it was heavier than normal. I nearly dropped it.”
“Mirabel has to put up with enough meirda at school without you giving her bullies more ammunition to use against her,” Camilo agreed, turning on his heels, “All this for a stupid lie that can’t even hold water.”
“What are you talking about?” Alma demanded.
“Luisa nearly dropped a piano. What if she does drops something, or can’t pick something up in front of a villager? I bet the whole village knows that there is something wrong with the Miracle before this time tomorrow night,” he insisted, “You made Mirabel’s life worse just because you didn’t want the truth to inconvenience you,” he shook his head slowly, “And to think I use to look up to you.”
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said what I did, but I was put on the spot, I had to come up with something quickly.”
“My padres always told me that lies only make things worse,” Agustin said softly, “and I do not allow my children around someone I can not trust,” Agustin stepped closer to Alma, “You will make this right or I will take my girls and leave. Do I make myself clear!”
Alma simply nodded, she had never seen Agustin so upset before.
“Good,” Agustin said, leaving the room, the rest of the family following after him, each one shooting her a dirty look until only Pepa and Antonio was left in the room with her.
Antonio was glaring up at her with his arms folded over his chest.
“Let me guess, you’re mad at me too,” Alma suggested.
Antonio nodded, “It’s bad enough that you’re always making her cry and allowing Isabela to be mean to her, now you’ve got the whole village thinking that she did something naughty. If I knew how to hate I’ll hate you right now. Now get out of my room!” he finished with a stomp of his little foot, and a dramatic motion towards the door.
Alma glanced at Pepa, who simply leveled her with a look, “Antonio doesn’t need your bad influence in his life,” she announced, “I won’t have him becoming a liar like you, please leave so that I can put him down.”
The next thing Alma knew, Antonio’s door was being shut in her face. How was she supposed to fix this?