11-year-old Mirabel loved her tiny cousin more than any other baby in the world. Antonio, or Toñito, was a fat little one with smooth chocolate-brown skin, great big lollipop eyes, a heap of soft dark curls, a gumdrop of a nose, and a smile that revealed the dimples in his round cheeks.

Little Toñito always had smiles for his Mami and Papi as well as his big brother and sister and his Tía Julieta, all three of whom often kept an eye on him to help his parents out, but he tended to shrink away from his other family members. When Mirabel made overtures towards him, he regarded her with solemn brown eyes, pressed closer to his Mami, and clutched the front of her dress.

"He's a shy baby," big cousin Dolores explained to a crestfallen Mirabel. "He really sticks to Mama and Papa; when he was smaller, he even cried anytime Camilo tried to take him. He'll warm up to you if you give him some time."

Over time, little Toñito did indeed seem to "warm up" to his older cousin. With coaching and coaxing from Dolores, he learned to recognize his relatives by name. Mirabel wasn't quite certain how Dolores did it, being that these lessons never took place when she was around, but the day came when she sat down at the breakfast table and Antonio, bouncing in Pepa's lap, turned to look directly at her and gave her one of his sunny grins. "Mi'bel."

Mirabel's heart leaped. Pepa and Felix were smiling at her, as were her own Mama and Papa. Dolores gestured towards her. "Yes, Toñito! That's prima Mirabel."

"Pri' Mi'bel."

Mirabel's heart swelled with love until she felt it might burst. When she spoke, her voice was something like a silly squeak. "Hola, Toñito. Hola, cosa lindo."

"Say, 'Hola, Mirabel,'" Dolores encouraged the baby, who had also been trying to learn his hellos and goodbyes.

Antonio seemed to become a little bashful once again. Still, he whispered, "Mi'bel," and attempted to wave at her. His "waving" consisted of opening and closing his tiny hand instead of fluttering it, but Mirabel might have died of happiness at the sight.

Mirabel and Antonio spent all of breakfast-time exchanging waves. Breakfast the following morning was the same, and then, in the afternoon, when Mirabel was in the kitchen, watching her mother, her aunt and Dolores make empanadas and hoping for a chance to lend a hand, a flustered and harried Pepa broke away from the counter and deposited Antonio into her youngest niece's lap. "Mirabel, please keep an eye on Toñito for me! I just need fifteen minutes to clear my mind."

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried off, pulling gusts of damp wind and clouds of flour along with her. This left Mirabel and Antonio sitting alone at the kitchen table, staring at one another.

Mirabel broke the bewildered silence. She pulled Antonio into an embrace.

"Toñito!"

After a second or two, Antonio braced the palm of his dimpled little hand against Mirabel's chest to gently push her away. He peered around the top of the nearest chair. "Mami?"

"It's okay, Toñito. Mami needs clear skies, but she'll be back in just a sec. I'm here; I'll take care of you."

Dolores glanced up from the dough she was kneading to smile at her youngest brother. She sang softly, "Clear skies, clear skies / Mami's making clear blue skies."

The song seemed to comfort Antonio and make him forget his confusion. He bounced on Mirabel's knee. "C'ear sky, c'ear sky."

Mirabel caressed the dark curls. "You can talk and sing? You're such a smart boy, Toñito. I bet there's nothing you can't do!"

"He is a smart boy," Julieta agreed, "but he's still a baby. Be careful with him, Mira."

"Oh, Mama, I'm being careful." Mirabel leaned in to kiss each smiling cheek. "Antonio, can you say 'Julieta'?"

Antonio hesitated, then attempted his auntie's name. " 'Lieta."

"Good try. What about 'Dolores'?"

The sun rose on the sweet face. " 'lores. 'Milo." Antonio began to recite as if he were chanting, punctuating the words with claps of his hands. " 'lores! 'Milo! Mami! Papi! A-be-la!"

"Very good, sobrinito," Julieta left her work to croon. Coming over, she knelt at the end of the table and opened her arms. "Can you walk to Tia Julieta?"

Antonio gave his cousin's skirt a tug. "Down, Mi'bel!"

A surprised and highly-impressed Mirabel scooped the little boy up and set him on his feet. Step by tiny step, shakily, but steadily, gripping Mirabel's skirt, then the back rails of chairs and the edge of the tablecloth, Antonio made his way over and into his aunt's open arms. He was swept into the air and coated with kisses. Then the giggling bundle was returned to Mirabel's lap so that Julieta could hurry back to the crackling skillet.

Mirabel hugged him close. You ARE a smart baby, Toñito - the smartest baby in the world. You walk, you talk, and you understand what everyone's saying to you. You're so magical! Together, I know there's nothing we can't do for fun.

For the first time ever, Antonio laid his cheek against Mirabel's shoulder, a tender, trusting gesture. "Mi'bel."

Mirabel's cheeks ached with smiling. When Antonio drew back, she flew him to the floor. Getting down beside him, she released him.

"Come on, Toñito. Let's walk across the kitchen together. I'll race you!"

Antonio seemed to like this idea. Clutching Mirabel's skirt, he took a few wobbly steps forward. Then he let go.

Mirabel expected him to stumble a little, and as he took a few more steps, moving away from her, she kept close behind him in case he needed to be helped back onto his feet. Antonio came to a stop, swayed and, for an instant, groped for something to hold onto, but found only air. Before Mirabel had registered what was happening, he went crashing to the floor. His forehead was the first thing to hit the tiles.

"Toñito!"

Mirabel gathered the wailing baby up. Julieta and Dolores abandoned the empanadas and were beside her in an instant.

"Mira! What happened?"

As Dolores took Antonio from her, Mirabel choked out an explanation. "I wanted to walk with him, Mama. I - I thought he could walk - I didn't know he -"

"Ay, Mirabel!" Julieta felt along Antonio's forehead with her thumb. Antonio twisted away from her touch and wept in protest. "There's a knot on his head. Hold on; I'll grab an arepa. Shhhh-sh-sh-sh, mi amor; Tia knows. You're safe, darling."

No arepas were on hand, but Julieta was able to fish out a piece of homemade candied citron. She handed it to Dolores, who coaxed it into the baby's mouth, then sifted him up and down.

"There you go, Toñito. Eat it up, and you'll feel better. Shhhh. Mirabel didn't mean it."

Antonio chewed the citron and became quiet. As the sweetmeat worked its healing magic, his tears subsided. Mirabel retreated into the nearest chair and, in miserable silence, studied her hands.

Julieta addressed her once again. "I know it was an accident, but you have got to be more careful, Mirabel. Antonio is a baby. When you aren't completely certain about something, you should ask."

"I'm sorry," Mirabel whispered. She wasn't certain to whom she was apologizing - Mama wasn't the one whom she had wronged, and an, "I'm sorry," didn't make up for the pain of Antonio's fall or for the worry that she had caused Dolores. Still, she knew that an apology was owed somewhere. There was nothing else that she could do. Heaven knew she couldn't babysit to make up for hurting Antonio.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

In spite of Dolores's assurances that Mirabel hadn't meant to let him down, Antonio couldn't forgive her. He no longer said her name when he saw her, and he cowered away whenever she passed by. Mirabel didn't try to push him, but honored his feelings about her by giving him space. The shame and the remorse weren't quick to fade, and, besides, reaching out to her little cousin and having him recoil from her in fear would be too much to bear. She did her best not to look in his direction. After several weeks of this, Toñito seemed to forget all about the trauma the incident had caused him, but Mirabel, afraid to cause more trouble, continued to leave him alone.

For Mirabel, life was a little lonely at times. It was true that she had two sisters and even a cousin who was her age, but Isabela, Luisa, and Camilo always seemed to be busy helping out in the village or around the house. She was awkward and clumsy - the accident with Antonio had proven that fact beyond a shadow of a doubt - and she had no gift, so she couldn't be of any help to her sisters or, in spite of Julieta's little efforts at making her feel useful in the kitchen, nearly as much help even to her mother as Dolores was. Dolores herself was far too quiet and reserved to be great company for a preteen girl.

The seasons passed, and then Antonio's second birthday arrived. Julieta made a pink-and-white-frosted tower of a birthday cake. On the left end of the table upon which the enormous cake stood was an ever-growing heap of gifts.

Mirabel made her contribution - a velvet capybara that she had sewn and stuffed herself. She knew that Toñito had developed a fondness for animals, and she was fond of sewing and arts and crafts - in spite of her natural clumsiness, she had a good hand for making things. Otherwise, however, she did her best to keep from underfoot. With Tia Pepa in such a frazzled state, the last thing that they needed was trouble.

Mirabel hung back and watched as Camilo amused his baby brother and his friends by shapeshifting. Now that Toñito's turned two, Abuela wants him to move into the nursery with me. I know Camilo's been hanging out in there with him for a few minutes every day to get him used to it. Tia and Tio aren't happy about moving him out of their room, but Abuela says he'll be too big to sleep with them soon and the longer they wait to get him used to sleeping by himself like a big boy, the harder it will be. Will he cry all night? What if he hates being there even more. . .because of me?

The celebration went on, with lunch, music, dancing, games, the spitty blowing out of candles, the devouring of the cake by little ones, who, after the way that the tiny birthday boy had honked all over the icing to extinguish the candles, were the only ones who could stomach it at this point, and, at last, the unwrapping of gifts. Mirabel was near enough to watch when the capybara was revealed.

"And this was a present from Prima Mirabel," Tio Felix informed Antonio.

The little boy, after taking a few moments to stare into the ink-black button eyes of the capybara, hugged its velvet body to himself. He leaned over, sliding halfway off of the edge of his chair, attempting to peer around the heads of his guests. "Pri' Mi'bel?"

He caught a glimpse of her before Felix gently drew him back into an upright-sitting position for his safety.

The party ended soon after. When all of the guests had gone, Mirabel joined Dolores in the tidying of the dining area. The afternoon faded away far too quickly. Less than two hours after sunset, long before Mirabel's bedtime, Pepa carried Antonio, clad in pajamas and all bundled up with his favorite blanket and his new capybara, into the nursery.

Mirabel, on her side of the divided chamber, started when the door opened. "Tia Pepa! Antonio!"

She'd still been busily fussing and fiddling uncertainly with her own belongings. She hadn't shared her room with anyone in seven years, let alone with someone who was so small. She'd done her best to clean up and was still trying to ensure she didn't leave anything lying around that might hurt a toddler.

Pepa set her little one down on his bed. "It's close to Antonio's bedtime, Mira. I'm just going to put him to sleep."

Felix entered after her. He crouched down at the bedside and offered Antonio one of his huge fingers to hold. "It's okay if you want to leave the lamp on till you sleep, sobrina. Toñito might feel better with the light, anyway."

Mirabel scanned the three faces. Antonio's forehead was furrowed with worry, and so was Felix's. Though she was smiling, there was a tightness in Pepa's smile, and her eyes glistened with dampness. The window shutters could be heard clattering against the pushing of the wind, and Mirabel suspected she could hear the faint pattering of thin raindrops against the roof.

Mirabel sat down on her bed and twisted a knot of her skirt around and around in her hands until it resembled a screw. This is going to be bad. I've got to help Tia Pepa and Tio Felix. But how? I don't know ANYTHING about parenting.

Pepa tucked Antonio into bed, then sat at his head. "Mami and Papi are going to let you sleep in your new big-boy room tonight. Before we go, we'll tell you stories and sing you songs."

"That's right, mijo," Felix chimed in. "What story should we tell first?"

"No." Antonio's voice was choked. He shot upright and stuck his arms up. "Mami, Papi, don't go! I want you."

The drizzle of rain became a full-fledged shower. Tia Pepa was trying hard not only to control her feelings, but to conceal them altogether - something that she had never been good at. When she cupped Antonio's cheek with her hand, Mirabel could see that it was as white as paper.

The two hours that followed were dreadful. Pepa and Felix took turns trying to tell Antonio stories or sing him songs, but he drowned their efforts out with his crying. When Pepa held him, he clung to her, went stiff as a board, and refused to be put down in his bed. Raindrops became curtains of water. The flashing of lightning and the crashing of thunder, which didn't seem to faze Antonio as much as the prospect of being left behind by his parents did, caused Mirabel to jump. She hugged her knees to keep herself from trembling.

At last, after half an hour of this, having exhausted himself with crying, Antonio curled up in his Mami's lap, allowed Felix to bundle him up in a blanket, and lay quietly so that he could be told a bedtime story. When the first story ended, he begged for another one.

"More, Mami. I wan' another 'tory," he insisted, or, "Sing me a song!"

The time came when Pepa and Felix had to press Antonio into bed, tuck him in and leave him without another story or lullaby. The weeping little one scrambled out of bed and shot across the room towards the closing door. He latched onto the doorknob, which was just within reach of his short arms, and twisted and tugged with all of his might.

"Mami! Papi, I waaaaan'!"

Mirabel rose and took a few tentative steps towards the unhappy little figure, who was now huddled up on the floor.

I can't just let him run into Tia Pepa and Tio Felix's room. But how can I tell him no?

As she stood there and watched, memories, as painful as stabs with a knife, came flooding in.

It was my fifth birthday, and it was supposed to be a happy day. It WAS a happy day. . .when it started. I was supposed to get a gift. I was supposed to get my own room - get to be next door to my big sisters the way I'd wanted to for so long.

I remember thinking about how proud Abuela was going to be. How Isa and I had talked for days about her decorating my new room . . .since I thought she and Luisa were the coolest people in the world back then and wanted to be like them. It was going to be my biggest moment, so it's the brightest - the clearest memory I have from when I was really little.

And then. . .I put my hand on the doorknob. . .I twisted it and pulled it. . .and all the brightness faded. Everything went dark - the hallway, Abuela's smile. Why did it happen that way? Did I do something bad? Was something wrong with me? I don't know. Maybe I'll never know. I only know I never got that room next door to my sisters.' Mami and Papi must have tried to make me feel better. I know they did. But all I remember is lying on my bed that night - all alone - and crying into my pillow until it hurt too much to cry anymore.

"Mi'bel?"

The sound of the timid little voice made Mirabel blink. Only then did she realize that her eyes and her cheeks were wet. Before her was the blurred, upturned brown face of her baby cousin.

"Mi'bel? You cwy?"

"Toñito." Mirabel scrubbed her tears away, but couldn't dam the flow yet. Crouching down so that she was on Antonio's level, she offered him a shaky failure of a smile.

"I'm fine. I'm okay. I was feeling sad, but I'm better now! Clear skies, see?"

Antonio was unconvinced. His own sniffling resumed. "Mi'bel, don't cwy. Don't be sad. . .!"

Before Mirabel could say another word, the baby padded over to his bed. He pushed his blankets back to drag something out from beneath them, then turned to stick the object out for her. It was the stuffed capybara she had made for him.

Mirabel pulled the bundle of warmth into her arms, sank to the floor, and buried her face into his curls.

"I'm sorry, Toñito," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry, calabacito. I wish you could be with Mami and Papi."

"I wan' Mami and Papi," came the answer from the poor cracked little voice.

"You're safe." Mirabel murmured every reassurance that she could think of because she didn't truly know what to say to make things right. "Pri' Mirabel's got you. You don't have to be scared. It's only until morning, and then you'll be with Mami and Papi all day. Till then, this is your cool new big boy room, Toñito. You can be in charge here and do anything you want to."

Antonio, gripping a handful of Mirabel's blouse, seemed to consider her words. They weren't enough, though. "I don't love to be a big boy."

"I know." Mirabel drew him back so that she could dab the last of the tears from his eyes, then from her own. "When other people make the rules and you don't get any control. . .it doesn't make you feel big or strong, does it, 'nito? It's so sucky. . .so frustrating."

After a moment, Antonio laid his sticky, tear-stained cheek against her. "It's f'ust'ating."

Mirabel's hug tightened. You really are the smartest baby in the world, Toñito.

They sat there on the floor together like that for a while, with Mirabel breathing in the sweet scent of those shampoo-perfumed curls. Antonio's fingers found their way into his mouth. Little by little, his body went slack, but his bright brown eyes, still sparkling with wetness, didn't close.

Almost asleep, but not quite. Mirabel leaned in to kiss his forehead. He's blinking hard, fighting to stay awake. Do I just wait him out? Maybe turning off the light would make him fall asleep. Then again, getting up and moving around might do the opposite.

"Toñito," Mirabel whispered at last. "You wanted one more story, right?"

There was a pause, but then Antonio managed a drowsy nod.

Mirabel began to smooth his hair. She spoke softly.

"Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived near the woods with her Mami and Papi. The little girl was not only very good and kind, but very pretty. When she went out on errands, she put on the beautiful red bonnet her Mami had made her. Because of her bonnet, everyone who knew her began to call her Little Red Riding Hood."

The story went on, and it appeared to be doing its job of lulling Antonio to sleep. The baby didn't even stir when Little Red Riding Hood was devoured by the wicked wolf. When the woodcutter came to her rescue and chopped the wolf open with his axe, however, Antonio sat up and pulled his fingers out of his mouth.

"Nuuuuu. I don't like it. It's sad."

"What's wrong, Toñito? . . .You feel sorry for the wolf because he got chopped open?"

Antonio said nothing. He only gave his stuffed capybara a squeeze.

Mirabel facepalmed. Of course he doesn't like hearing about the wolf being cut open. He's obsessed with animals. I'm an idiot.

There was a gentle rap on the door of the nursery.

"Mirabel?" Her mother's voice, very soft, drifted in from the hallway.

So preoccupied had Mirabel been with Antonio's bedtime that she had forgotten that her own had just now arrived. "Come in, Mama, Papa."

The door opened, and Julieta and Agustin shuffled into the room. It was easy to see that Julieta had had a heavy workload that evening; her eyes were tired, but she was smiling.

"We didn't want to disturb Toñito," she whispered. "Did we wake him up?"

"No, he was just on his way to sleep."

"Oh, dear. My poor girl." Julieta came over to her. "It's time you were tucked in. I can take care of Toñito from here."

Mama WOULD know more about taking care of a kid than I do. Mirabel peered down at Antonio, who had rested his head on her once again.

"Antonio?" She gave him a gentle shake. "Toñito, do you want Tia Julieta to put you to sleep?"

Julieta knelt down to hold her arms out for the little one, but Antonio didn't budge except to return his fingers to his mouth.

"Well, Mira," Agustin remarked, "it looks like you have a new fan."

He scooped Mirabel up - drowsy toddler and all - to place her on her bed, eliciting a cry that was half-startled indignation, half-quiet giggling. "Papa!"

Julieta joined her husband in a double embrace that enveloped both children.
"My little girl is such a caring big cousin. We're so proud of you."

Mirabel was overcome by such a rush of warmth that she lowered her gaze, embarrassed to let her parents see what was in her eyes. Mama and Papa had always been proud of her no matter what, but the wounds from the kitchen incident had still been there, and she hadn't realized it until Mama's words had healed them.

Julieta and Agustin left the lights on when they exited the room. The cousins were alone together again. Antonio broke the peaceful silence.

"'Tory, Mi'bel?"

"A new story? Okay." Mirabel took a moment to brainstorm.

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Toñito, who lived in the woods with . . .his Mami and Papi and his big sister and his big brother."

The door opened a fraction, and Mirabel glanced up. Thankfully, Antonio didn't follow her gaze, for it was his Mami, who had come to look in on her little boy.
Mirabel made eye contact with her and offered her aunt her most reassuring smile. As gently as it had opened, the door shut.

"The little boy was not only a very good little boy, he was also amazingly, extremely, unbelievably cute."

Antonio's cheeks rounded in a smile, exposing his dimples.

"His big sister made him a little dark red hat to wear whenever he went out playing. Because of that adorable hat, everyone who knew him called him Little Red Cap.

"One day, Little Red Cap's Abuela got sick. His tia knew how to make delicious food that could make any hurt go away. She came over to his house, and together she and Little Red Cap's Mami made lots of good things for Abuela to eat. Tia made soup for her sickness, and she and Mami both made cookies and cakes and empanadas as treats.

"When everything was finished, Mami packed the food in a basket. She said to her little boy, 'Baby, can I trust you to be a big boy and take all these nice things to Abuela's house in the woods?'

'Yes, Mami! I'm a big boy!'

'Very well. Then you may go.' And Mami gave him the basket.

Little Red Cap was so excited. 'I go to see Abuela!'

'You're going to see Abuela because she's sick,' his big brother tried to remind him, but Little Red Cap was just too happy that they'd be seeing Abuela to think about that part.

"His big sister told him, 'When you get to Abuela's house, you'll have to be gentle and quiet.'

'I'll be gentle and quiet for Abuela!' Little Red Cap promised. 'I won't yell and dance.'

'And there's one more thing you must be careful of, mijo,' Mami said to him. 'You must never talk to the greedy, naughty wolf who lives in the woods.'"

This got Antonio to sit up. "Can the wolf have some cookies?"

Mirabel prodded his nose. "Not yet, Toñito."

They were awake for a little while yet, but Mirabel didn't mind. The greedy wolf ate Abuela so that he could disguise himself in her bonnet and shawl, then ate Little Red Cap along with the delicacies he had brought. Each time the wolf gobbled someone up, Mirabel acted the devouring out, grabbing at the chubby cheeks and ribs of her giggling cousin. By the time Abuela and Little Red Cap had been pulled out of the wolf's stomach and the wolf chased away with spanks from Mami's wooden spoon, Mirabel and Antonio were lying side by side on the floor in fits of laughter.

Outside, the storm had cleared away, and all that was left was a gentle sprinkle of rain. After a short while, that, too, ceased. All that could be heard were the tap-tap-tap of water as, running over of the shingles of the roof, it gathered at the edge and spilled off of a corner in large drops, landing in the grass and the rustling of leaves when the night breezes combed the trees' hair.