When Mirabel was six years old, she noticed Abuela treated her differently than the other grandkids.
Oh sure, Abuela loved them all, there was no doubt in anyone's mind about that. But, Mirabel was…special. Set apart.
"You are a wonder, Mirabel," Abuela would say, even if Mirabel was doing something simple like sewing with her pá or playing house with Luisa.
She asked her mamá about it.
"Your Abuela loves you very much," was all she would ever say, so she asked Isabela.
Isabela had a lot to say about it.
"It's because you're normal," her sister said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "That's why she loves you more."
Mirabel scrunched up her nose. "But that's boring," she said. "I want a Gift like you and Luisa and Dolores and Milo."
"Yeah, but we're more, like, curses," Isabela said. She sunk her fingers into the dirt in front of them and flowers sprouted, curling up toward the sun. "Ever since Tío and Abuelo died, Abuela hates magic, so now she hates us for having magic too. But you—you didn't get any, so you're special."
"But I don't want to be special," Mirabel said in a small voice.
Isabela gave her a funny look. "Don't worry," she said. "You're still mi hermanita tonta. You're not special to me."
When Mirabel turned ten, Abuela began bringing her to biweekly council meetings. Mirabel would be required to sit, prim and proper, and listen to matters well above her comprehension. The meetings always lasted hours past her bedtime.
Her pá did not approve. Many times, after Abuela brought her home late, Julieta would collect her and whisk her off to bed, but Agustín would stay and talk to Abuela, and impressions of harsh, whispered words would float up from the kitchen and into Mirabel's room. Mirabel strained to hear, but never could make out exactly what they were saying, or what her pá was so angry about.
She never dared ask Dolores.
When Mirabel was thirteen, Camilo got in trouble. He'd always been the one to push things with his Gift, transforming into all of his family members in turn when Abuela wasn't looking. But one night, right before Mirabel was supposed to go to another council meeting, Camilo asked if he could go instead.
"I just want to see what all the fuss is about, that's all," he said. "Look—" And he transformed into a perfect copy of Mirabel, right down to a smudge on her glasses. He twisted around, beaming back at his prima with her face. "Abuela will never know it's me."
"She'll know if you start talking," Mirabel pointed out. "And she sometimes has me say a few words near the end of the meeting." Just closing remarks, perfectly picked for her; nothing fancy and nothing like what Mirabel would normally say.
Camilo transformed back into himself, waving his hands. "Pfft, I'll just pretend my throat hurts or whatever. She'll never know!"
Mirabel hesitated. But she really, really, really did want to stay home…just this once. She was tired, and tired of having to be perfect for hours while her sisters and cousins got to stay home and do whatever they wanted. So, slowly, she nodded.
"Okay…sure. You can go. Just this once."
Of course, Abuela knew instantly. The moment she called for Mirabel to join her and Camilo-as-Mirabel stepped forward instead, she exploded.
"How could you do this?" Abuela raged, grabbing Camilo's arm and shaking him until he transformed back into himself. "Think about what could have happened if anyone caught you—if anyone found out? You would put your familia in danger and for what, to play pretend?"
"Leave him alone!" Mirabel shouted, stomping her foot. Abuela whirled on her, fire in her eyes, and Mirabel shrank back.
Abuela had never looked at her like that.
"What did you say?" Abuela asked, her voice low. Dangerous.
Mirabel looked at Camilo. He had shocked tears in his eyes. She swallowed down her own fear and held her head high. She looked Abuela in the eye, like she'd been taught.
"It was my fault. I didn't…I didn't want to go tonight and Milo said–said he could go instead. But it was my idea, not his, Abuela, so please, leave him alone!"
Abuela stared at Mirabel for a long moment. She released Camilo's arm and, with one last pleading look at Mirabel, he fled.
Only the ticking of a clock broke the silence between them as nieta and abuela stared at each other.
"Mirabel," Abuela said, soft, the anger slowly leeching off her frame. "Have you…have you ever wanted to go to these council meetings?"
Mirabel looked away. "No, I—I like going with you, Abuela. Honest. But I just…wanted a night off. Please don't be mad at Milo, it was all my idea—"
"I will speak to Camilo later," Abuela said. She drew herself up, adjusting her black shawl around her shoulders. Her eyes hardened. "I need you to open your eyes, Mirabel, to the danger that hovers over our familia. Any time your primos or hermanas use their…abilities, they threaten the safety that your Tío and Abuelo sacrificed themselves for. What if something had happened tonight, and Camilo's power was revealed? We—we cannot lose our home, Mirabel. I will not lose another member of this family again."
Mirabel hung her head. "Sí, Abuela. I—"
"I need you to help me, Mirabel. It is your duty to make sure they stay in check, for their protection. ¿Está clara?"
"Lo siento," Mirabel whispered. "I understand. I…I will do better."
Abuela nodded once. "I must go, before I'm late. You may stay home this time, Mirabel. But I expect you to attend all other meetings, no exceptions."
"Sí, Abuela."
Abuela nodded again and swept out of the room. As soon as the front door shut behind her, Mirabel tore off in search of her cousin.
She found him after several minutes of searching, curled up under his bed. She lay down on her stomach and reached out to poke his shoulder.
He scooted away from her. Mirabel froze, her lip trembling.
"I'm sorry, Milo," she whispered. "I–I didn't think—"
"Do you think I'm hurting the family?" Camilo asked, his voice small.
"No," Mirabel said immediately, but it didn't sound very convincing, even to her own ears. She bit her lip. "I…I think she's just scared. She doesn't want you to die like—"
She stopped herself, but they both knew who she was talking about.
Camilo sniffled and rolled to face her, bringing up a hand to scrub his face. "Are you–are you gonna tell Abuela when–whenever I shift now?"
"No," Mirabel said bluntly, meaning it this time. "I'm not a snitch."
Camilo let out a wobbly laugh. "Thanks, Mira."
But he never did transform as much around her, after that.
When Mirabel turned fifteen, things reached a breaking point.
Her pá received a letter. It was bad news: his father was very sick, please come. Though Mirabel had only met her Abuelo Arturo a handful of times growing up, she was sad to hear of his condition. Of course, her family would come.
Mirabel was in the room she shared with Luisa, packing her bag, when she suddenly heard arguing drifting up through the floorboards. She frowned—it sounded like Abuela and…her mamá?
Before she could investigate, Luisa appeared in the doorway, Dolores right behind her, hands over her ears. Both were pale. Luisa quickly shut the door behind them.
"What's going on?" Mirabel asked.
"Tía Julieta and Abuela are fighting," Dolores said in her quiet way. "Abuela doesn't want you to leave."
"Me?" Mirabel asked.
"Any of you," Dolores clarified. "She's worried you won't come back."
Mirabel looked at her sister: Luisa was on the verge of tears. Mirabel wrapped her arms around her sister's waist and squeezed.
The arguing downstairs suddenly intensified in volume, and they didn't need Dolores' Gift to hear what was said next:
"If you leave this house you are dead to me!"
"I wish I was dead! Then maybe I'd be the perfect child like Bruno!"
"Mierda," Mirabel whispered. She glanced at Bruno and bit her lip. "I, uh, probably shouldn't have told you that last part. Sorry."
But Bruno was already shaking his head. "No, no, it's…I needed to know." He squeezed her hand. "Thank you."
Mirabel nodded. "Well, we moved away after that. Abuelo passed that next month, and Pá took over his tailor shop. I think, originally, we were only going to stay for a bit, to get everything settled, but Isabela and Luisa decided to start university not long after so we stayed in town for them to finish. And Má and Abuela must have made up at some point, because we all went back for Navidad that year, but I'm not sure when. It's…not something we talk about." She shrugged.
Bruno looked out the bus window, his eyes far away. One of his rats popped its head out from beneath his hood and nuzzled his covered cheek once before disappearing again.
"I…I'm sorry we're not the perfect family, Tío Bruno," Mirabel said. She laughed but there was no humor to it. "Probably not–probably not what you wanted to go home to."
"Hey, hey, no," Bruno assured, looking at her. "No, that's–that's not—" He sighed. "Mirabel, our family has always had its problems, even before—well. You know."
Mirabel nodded.
The bus rumbled beneath them. Mirabel leaned out of her seat and saw a village in the distance out the front window. Not their stop yet.
She looked at Bruno. He was playing with a loose thread from his pants, lost in thought.
"You'll have to let me make you new clothes eventually," she murmured.
"What, and replace these magnificent things?" Bruno asked, affronted. "The very idea."
She giggled, feeling marginally better. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "So…do you have any other questions? About the family?"
Bruno tilted his head. "What are your sisters studying?"
Mirabel let out a breath. That was an easy one.
Translations:
1. Mi hermanita tonta - my dumb little sister
2. Está clara - is that clear
3. Mierda - shit
4. Navidad - Christmas
