Isabela rose early the next morning and began her routine. She greeted her favorite plants—especially the cacti—and made her way to her vanity. As she sat and picked up her brush, she looked at her reflection in the mirror—and screamed.
Her scream was brief; more of a startled scream than one of abject terror. Nonetheless, it brought people running. Mirabel and Luisa were the first through her door. Before anyone else could pass the threshold, Isa used her vines to slam and block the door. She paused to get control of her emotions, glaring at the door as if daring it to open before she gave it permission, in spite of the pounding of fists and sounds of worried pleas emanating from the other side of the wood.
"Isabela, what's wrong?" Mirabel cried as she and Luisa skidded to a stop in front of their sister. "Wha...?" Mirabel's next sentence died in her throat as she gaped at Isa. Luisa also stared in shock.
"Yes, it's spread!" Isa bit.
It had. The white patches radiated across her face from her lips, eyes and nose. They crept down her chin and splattered across her forehead. Her hands also bore white patches across the fingers, creeping closer and closer to her medial knuckles.
"We gotta get Mamá!" Luisa said, turning toward the door.
"I really do not want an audience right now!" Isa said. "I'll face them when I'm good and ready."
Mirabel nodded in agreement. "That's fair. So what can we do, Isa? Anything?"
"Move some more plants?" Luisa offered. "Move you out of here until we figure all this out?"
Isa propped her elbows on her vanity so she could bury her face in her hands. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I don't know what's going on or how to fix it. Mamá's food doesn't seem to be working."
"Mamá's food cures just about anything."
"Well, it's not curing this!" Isa snapped, then checked herself. "If anything, it's like it makes it worse." She gazed at her reflection. "Well...it makes it spread faster." She inhaled deeply, then turned to Luisa. "Hermana, would you please step out and do some crowd control? Let the family know I'm just fine in here and will be out when I'm presentable."
Luisa nodded. Crowd control was one of her specialties. "Let me know if you need anything," she said, slipping out the door as Isa cleared a path for her to do so.
Mirabel watched Luisa go, then turned to Isa. "So, what's the plan? Makeup?"
Isa studied her reflection. "Always makeup," she said. "But I'll have to change my usual look. It could take some time to settle on something I like."
"That's...gonna be a lot of foundation."
"Oh, I'm not covering it up."
Mirabel's jaw dropped. "What? Really?"
Isa's cheeks flushed a bit. "To be perfectly honest...I kind of...like it. It's a flaw, yes, but...a good one? I don't know how to explain it."
Mirabel's eyebrows rose as it dawned on her what her sister meant. "It's the antithesis of perfection," she said. "It's your skin rebelling against the impossible standard you had to live up to for so long."
Isa gave her youngest sister a grateful smile. "That's it exactly. Better late than never, I suppose. Thanks for understanding."
"Hey, I'm just glad you're happy with it. But, uh...the family is probably still gonna freak out. What with Tío Bruno's prophecy, you know..."
"I was hoping you could help me explain it to them. They listen to you."
"Ehh..." Mirabel wobbled a hand in front of her. "They're getting better about it, yeah, but this is also about your health. Remember what we saw? This isn't just your skin. It turns into pain in future years."
She was right, Isa had to admit. She pouted at her reflection. She had to find a cure for the blotches or it wouldn't just be a matter of imperfect skin. And who knew how far it could spread? If she lost all of her melanin, she'd be stuck inside or in fully concealing clothing any day the sky was anything less than overcast.
"Why don't we ask Tío Bruno to take another look at it?" Mirabel suggested. "I can help him. He seems to be able to make better sense of his visions when someone is there to keep him steady. Yours can't be a unique condition. Somewhere...somewhen...someone must eventually figure out how to treat this."
"Can Tío Bruno see any futures beyond the family's and those who ask?"
"He keeps going on and on about something called 'television,' and he's especially excited about 'broadcast football networks' and 'telenovelas.' So yeah, I'd say he can look pretty far into the future, and possibly beyond even Colombia."
"Then we'll ask him again," Isa said, rising from her vanity and gliding over to her wardrobe. "In the meantime, I'm getting dressed. Please see to Mamá and Papá's nerves, if you can."
"Not to mention Abuela's," Mirabel added. "Alright, I'll see you in a bit, Isa."
As Isa cleared a path for Mirabel to exit, Mirabel peeked out the door. "Luisa did her part," she said. "Crowd's moved downstairs."
Isa sighed with relief. "Tell her I said thanks."
"Will do." With that, Mirabel departed.
Isa turned her attention to undressing and picking her outfit, giving her skin a thorough inspection. Her belly was now quite patchy, the white spots dipping below her bikini line and starting to run along a central line up her torso. Her feet seemed to match her hands, with white patches running up her outer ankles. She spun in place a few times, assessing every inch of skin she could. And admiring it. She didn't know why she liked this new look as much as she did, but a large part of her didn't want it to go away.
Isa eventually donned her outfit for the day, spent some time settling on a makeup palette she thought looked alright against the newly white skin around her eyes, and made her way downstairs. She didn't need Dolores' super hearing to perceive the state of near-panic the rest of the family was in, gathered in the dining room. She could hear Mirabel desperately trying to calm everyone down. The only two voices she didn't hear were Dolores—who was usually quiet—and Bruno.
"Enough!" Abuela shouted above the din. The whole room fell silent.
Isa chose that moment to show herself. "Am I interrupting?" she asked nonchalantly.
All eyes turned to her. Several family members gasped. Her mother made a beeline to her.
"Mija! Your skin! Come, eat something!"
"It's fine, Mamá, really," Isa protested. "Didn't Mira tell you?"
"I didn't really get too far with it," Mirabel confessed.
"I am very happy to see that you are not as upset as we are, mija," Abuela said. "But this has become very serious, and we must find the cure. So for now, I would like you to move into Mirabel's room until further notice."
"What? But Abuela..."
"No arguments," Abuela said firmly.
"I have to agree with Abuela on this one, sweetie," Julieta said. "Until we can rule out all of your plants, you shouldn't stay in your room."
"I don't think my plants are the problem," Isa argued. "I've had them for months now, and this..." she gestured to her face, "has only just started happening."
"Allergies can appear pretty suddenly," Augustín said. "I was about your age before I learned I was allergic to shellfish. Before that, I hadn't had a problem."
"At any rate, please start with breakfast," Julieta said, urging Isa to her seat and setting a plate of eggs in front of her.
Isa reluctantly indulged her family, nibbling at her eggs. Not far from her sat Mirabel and Bruno. Mirabel was whispering something to Bruno. He glanced her way, gave a reluctant nod, then whispered back.
Dolores' head jerked up. She was sitting next to Isa and leaned over. "Tío Bruno says you and Mira should meet him at his door after breakfast," she whispered.
"Thanks," Isa whispered back. She gave a subtle nod in Mirabel's direction, who returned it.
The plan set, Isa focused on her breakfast. She curiously watched her left hand with every bite. She couldn't tell if it was changing, in either direction. Whatever this patchy stuff was, it was seemingly unaffected by her mother's magical cooking.