"'Lores, what am I going to do?" Mirabel cried into her cousin's shoulder, sitting with her on the floor of the nursery. She had broken. She didn't care whether Antonio was giftless or not; her family could take their opinions on that matter and shove it up their… you know. But she'd taken one look at Abuela's face and she had known it was all over.
She didn't care if Dolores saw her cry. She would hear her anyway. She didn't care anymore. She couldn't. Antonio hadn't gotten a gift, and it could have been her fault.
"I don't know, Mira," said the woman tiredly.
She should have walked him to the door, she should have. Maybe it would have changed things for him. She should have faced the horrible walk of shame for her Tonito.
"Mami," a whimpering voice cried.
Dolores squeaked. Mirabel looked down at the child hiding behind her skirt. "Tonito, you know you can't call me that."
"I know… but what am I going to do? I'm giftless," he whispered the word as if it was too horrible for him to say it out loud.
"I don't know, Mijo," she said.
"I'm a mistake," said Antonio.
Mirabel was caught off guard by that. Dolores squeaked. "Antonio, look at me." Mirabel looked into his eyes very seriously, brushing some hair behind his ear. "Listen to me carefully. I never want to hear you say that again. You're not a mistake, Tonito. You're a miracle." She kissed the top of his head lightly. "Get some sleep, okay?"
"Okay, Ma- Mirabel." He sat on the edge of his cot and rolled over.
"You need sleep too, Mira."
"No, 'Dol, I'll be fine. Please stay?"
The girl stood up sadly. "Good night, Prima. Good night Mi Tonito."
"Good night 'Lores," the boy mumbled to the wall. Mirabel lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
If either of them looked at Dolores as she left, they would have seen the look of pure determination in her eyes. She had something to do.
Mira tossed and turned. What was going to happen? To her, to Antonio? Would she be blamed, somehow, for Tonito's giftlessness? Would he be neglected and abused as she was? He shouldn't be in the room with her right now. He should be sleeping soundly in his new room with his new gift, and she should be by herself, heartbroken but proud of him. He shouldn't be in the nursery that was far too small for one child, not to mention two.
He should have gotten a gift. What was going to happen now?
She got her answer at breakfast the next day. She walked Antonio downstairs to see the first strike- everyone was sitting at the table in solemn silence with no chairs for her and Antonio.
"I'm sorry, I can get them chairs," said Luisa standing up.
"No," said Abuela crossly, holding out her hand to stop the girl. "They can get the chairs themselves." No one would look at them. Antonio looked like he was about to cry.
"It's fine, Tonito, I got it," said Mira. She silently walked over to get the chairs. They sat at the far end of the table, as far from Abuela as they could get. They said nothing, and no one said anything to them, either. No one bothered to stand up for them or talk to them.
Abuela continued, telling them where each individual gift would be needed that day. She dealt out plans and talked about the upcoming marriage between Isabella and Mariano, which no one except Mira seemed to notice that Isabella looked quite uncomfortable at. They passed food around the table. No one said anything about Antonio or Mirabel.
"La Familia Madrigal!" they all cheered at the end of the meal.
Mira and Antonio didn't join. No one noticed.
Strike one, Mirabel thought. It wasn't going to happen like this, not to Antonio.
Three strikes, she thought, an idea forming, and you're out.