Hi.

Chapter 3

A visit to the Plaza

Part 2

To the eyes of the young Rivera, the Plaza had never looked brighter at night. In Santa Cecilia, music contests were taken very seriously. The Plaza was always filled with lights and the best of decorations, and of course, this time was no exception. This time however, was the first time that Miguel was going to compete, so of course it looked even better than usual (which unfortunately for Miguel, was merely glimpses and glances of the Plaza whenever he had a chance to escape from his chores and his ever-watching abuelita). Technically it wasn't his first contest, but Miguel would count it as so, since it would be the first time he performed in front of a public which wasn't... you know, dead.

He tried to act naturally when signing up for the show but his wide smile gave him away.

"I would like to participate in the contest," he told the young woman who carried the list of participants, and remembering his manners he added, "¿por favor?"

The lady chuckled and checked her list. "Hmmm... I guess we have just enough time at the end for just one more performance."

"Is that okay with you?" She asked.

Miguel nodded fervently, "¡Por supuesto!"

She smiled warmly. "Alright, just one more thing missing... what will be your stage name?"

Miguel considered this for a second. There was literally no way that he would go as De la crucito. It just wasn't possible. He would have to think about it later but for now, Miguel Rivera would have to suffice.

"Oh, I think I'll just go by my name for now, Miguel Rivera" He answered.

She raised her eyebrows. "Rivera? As in la familia Rivera, who hates music and everything to do with it?"

"Sí" he simply replied.

"Oh well, buena suerte niño. We will call you five minutes before it's your turn so be reeady." She gave him a friendly tap on the head and went away to attend to other matters.

Miguel searched around the Plaza and found his entire family sat down waiting for the show to begin. His mother spotted him looking and gave a little wave accompanied by a smile. Miguel waved back and gave her a thumbs up, signalling that everything was alright.

Looking around he noticed many people sending weird looks at his family. He shouldn't have been surprised, after all, his family wasn't famous just for making the best shoes of Santa Cecilia. He even spotted a certain mariachi dressed in blue who shot fearful glances at his abuelita. Miguel supposed that had not gotten over her and her fear inducing chancla. Miguel laughed to himself and then sighed. Hopefully the days in which his abuelita went chasing off poor mariachis would soon be over.

The lights of the plaza soon dimmed down and the presenter stood on the stage, microphone ready on hand, a single light beam pointing at her.

Miguel could see her mouth moving but his mind wouldn't process the sounds coming through his ears. He was too concentrated thinking about his plan, going through it over and over again, worrying about all that could go wrong but still remembering everything good that could—no, would— come out of it.

He looked again at his family. They were all watching the stage intently, taking everything in. Some looked more excited than others, some seemed a bit apprehensive; but still, as the show started and people began singing and playing instruments, they stayed at their places and never looked away. It looked like they were rather enjoying it. Even when a singer went a bit off note, or when a musician made a bit of an obvious mistake, they still clapped and cheered along with the rest of the crowd. This eased some of Miguel's worries.

He took a deep breath. Relájate Miguel, he scolded himself, todo saldrá bien.

He sat down and started playing softly on his guitar. Well, not his guitar since he hadn't had time to buy one and the one he had made had been destroyed by his abuelita in a desperate attempt to make him forget music. No, he was not using his guitar, but his great great grandfather's. Of course, no body knew it was Héctor's, not Ernesto's, but Miguel hadn't really thought about that. Miguel, who was now singing some tune to warm up his voice, hadn't really thought about the fact that half of Santa Cecilia would know by now that their greatest idol's guitar was missing from De la Cruz's mausoleum. But what did you expect from a twelve year old?

Songs came and went. Some were original compositions, others weren't. Many were just variations of De la Cruz's work, well, technically Héctor's but no one knew that yet. More than once, the song Recuérdame showed up, which was frustrating for Miguel, to put it lightly. It bothered him how many people would sing it, thinking it was directed to some girlfriend or lover, not knowing the real story behind him. It took all of his self control not to go upstage and stop some of said performances. More than once, he caught some of the members of his family looking enquiringly at him. They had been present when Miguel had sang to Mamá Coco and they were now all wondering why on Earth were there other people singing the exact same song which Coco's father used to sing to her. Miguel just shrugged in return, wanting his turn to come so they could finally understand.

To Miguel's eyes, it was taking forever. Yes, he liked most songs, and yes, the show was entertaining, but it was way past his usual curfew and being sat down against a wall and with the dim lights lighting the zone of the plaza where he was, he couldn't help but feel very sleepy eyed.

Only a second had passed for Miguel when he was jerked into consciousness by someone shaking his shoulder. In less than a second, he was up on his feet and said, "¡no dejaré que te olviden!". This earned a few weird looks from the people around him but the woman who had woken him up had no time for the child's nonsense.

"Gracias a Dios que te encontré a tiempo niño." She said some other things but Miguel was vaguely aware of her words, he was still sleepy and a bit in a daze. He did catch, however, her last few words: "Two more acts and you're up! Get ready kid." Just as she finished saying those words, Miguel felt like he had just jumped into a pool of freezing water because the next thing he knew, he was very awake and very, very conscious of his surroundings.

He yelped in surprise as he realised that his turn was coming. He got his guitar and ran towards the stage. An opera singer was just finishing her act. Next was a Mariachi band and next (and last) would be Miguel.

He started breathing heavily. He didn't want to admit it to himself but he was nervous. He cluched his guitar with both hands.

After a few minutes — although to Miguel it felt like an eternity — it was finally his turn. He was vaguely aware of the presenter calling him up and of some hands pushing him onstage. He wasn't aware of the growing murmurs going through the crowd as they recognised Miguel's guitar.

No, Miguel was not aware of any of that, just of the many expectant eyes that were watching him.

So he closed his eyes. He closed his eyes and thought about his papá Hector; the reason he was doing this; the reason he would finally be able to sing; the reason why Miguel was actually here today.

He closed his eyes and let out a cry, deep from his soul, that resounded throughout the whole Plaza and made every murmuring voice stop in shock. He received a few claps and whistles for his courage and downright craziness.

Then, he started to play.

Translations:

¿por favor? — please?

¡Por supuesto! — of course!

Relájate Miguelrelax Miguel

todo saldrá bien. — everything will turn out alright

¡no dejaré que te olviden! — I won't let them forget you!

Gracias a Dios que te encontré a tiempo niño — Thank God I found you on time kid.

A/N

I AM BACK with the last update of 2017! I hope you are enjoying the storry so far and sorry (not sorry) for the little cliffhanger in this chapter. If this story continues you will find out that it will not be the last cliffhanger *insert evil laugh* . Also, you may find that I'm terrible at keeping consistent updates so don't even think about asking about them.

So yep, feliz año nuevo! I wonder if someone will read this chapter in the few hours that are left in 2017. If so, leave a comment! I am genuinely curious.

See you next year!