Chapter 3

Fall and Rise

It was the music floating from the town square of Encanto that drew Mirabel in like a magnet. The delightful vibrant sounds were flying through the air of an undisturbed, crescent-moon night.

The mountains and forests seemed to be awake, willing to witness the party that hadn't even started. Horses and bicycles were still being parked wherever there was still enough space. Strings of lights adorned the walls and the ceiling of the immense pavilion all the tables were situated beneath. The buffet was flourishing with every dish conceivable in a Colombian town, and a table with the finest of drinks was nearby.

An orchestra had arrived, the sheen of various instruments bewitching young curious children. The musicians had positioned themselves right beside the ridiculously wide round ring that would soon be made use of.

The lights grew brighter on the wall of the pavilion where the Colombian flag was hanging proudly, and before it, a pedestal marked the still-unmentioned importance of tonight's milestone.

Residents were roaming around excitedly like swarms of butterflies roving from flower to flower. The atmosphere was in constant shift, what with the arrival of more groups of people; girls and young women were grouped tightly as they laughed and gossiped, men patted one another on the back or shoulder, doffing their hats at ladies, making the younger ones blush or titter and the mature ones angle their heads respectfully. There were so many hues that the untrained eye could have had some difficulty adjusting to the sea of colour.

In addition to the uplift of the celebration that had not even begun, there was a feeling of anticipation, of eager expectancy and relief that tugged at the heartstrings of every person who had chosen to join the fun.

Mirabel strolled towards the Madrigals' table, where Señora Guzmán alongside her son Mariano were also seated, the latter occupying a seat beside Isabela.

She roved around. Her heart crumpled a little when she didn't spot Carlos anywhere.

Why had she expected him to come? He surely barely knew a few people, and his worries were lying everywhere but at social gatherings.

"You've arrived just in time, Mira," Dolores said calmly. "Abuela wants to start her speech."

As the last people were taking their seats, the murmurs and warbling dying down gradually, Alma walked up the stairs of the pedestal at the front of the pavilion. Her eyes scoured the entirety of the crowd before her, which stared at her in expectancy. She spoke:

"I will not hold your attention for long. I know some of you have children or grandchildren who want to start partying as soon as possible. Believe me, I know what that's like."

Quiet laughs broke out for mere moments. Alma went on with a proud smile:

"This year has been a blessing to us all. Our beloved town and our community have thrived in ways we hadn't even expected. We are grateful for the year which has almost passed, and let us hope that the following one will be just as fruitful. Let us step with our right foot first when the clock strikes twelve."

She elevated a glass of deep red wine.

"A toast to honour the time that has passed, but also to a new year filled with everything we want to realise. ¡Salud!"

The whole room responded with an energetic "Salud!" before glasses were clinked.

"Let the celebrations begin!"

With that, Alma descended the pedestal in the applause of the public. Some people commenced eating right away, while others went onto the dance floor or strolled about in the vicinity of the tiered fountain not far from the pavilion, elated chatter filling the night.

Dolores, Isabela and Luisa egressed the pavilion, arms entwined; Julieta and Pepa, Agustín and Félix started discussing with some neighbours; Camilo met up with some of his friends a few tables away; Antonio was playing with a few other kids, chasing about between the tables, and Alma was contentedly conversing with Señora Guzmán and Mariano about her oldest granddaughter.

Mirabel glimpsed the ring. She grinned despite the tightness in her stomach at the sight of it. Furtively, she left the family unaware of her disappearance, striding to a shady place far from the centre of the party which was surrounded by bushes and palm trees.

She needed time to warm up for her upcoming number. She hadn't had time to do that at home; too busy touching up the presents she had made for the family - doilies with every member's name on them that she planned to leave the next morning on the dining table before their designated seats.

The choreography she'd come up with wasn't particularly arduous to execute, but not facile either. It hadn't been only once that she'd stumbled on her own feet or got left behind by the rapid tempo.

She didn't regret the failures one bit. If anything, they'd only helped her enhance her dancing skills.

She ascertained she was not to be spied on.

Mirabel took the starting position, drowning out the music of various instruments from afar. She focused on her body, from her torso and legs to her fingers and heels and toes.

Her eyes closed.

Imagine the crowd, she told herself. Imagine yourself nailing this baile to the tiniest step.

You got this, Mira. Breathe.

Dios, she hadn't expected to feel this agitated tonight!

She moved slowly to begin with, the lyrics of the song and the beat crystal-clear in her edgy mind. She amplified her speed, her aplomb growing with the imagined tempo as her body bowed to her every command.

She wouldn't falter. Not tonight.

She would shine.


Isabela's number kept lengthening, and Mirabel's nervousness kept augmenting. She watched her oldest sister twirl and tumble in the air with the help of her vines, watched her create a rain of petals from her fingertips over the cheering crowd and dance in the air like the most skilled acróbata, her layered skirt flailing with just as much grace her body effortlessly had.

How much had Isabela practised to reach this level of performance? Mirabel had never seen her look exhausted, nor complain about any pain the splits and the back arches had surely brought her at some point.

Did she even know her oldest sister?

While Isabela was being congratulated, Mirabel felt concern and regret get entangled in her heart. Maybe also with a little bit of resentment. The first two because she missed the sister who'd used to comfort her after a nightmare and love nothing more than to hang out with her, the third since…

Look at her!

The incarnation of perfection, of beauty and everything her family could ever wish for!

How could she, the ordinary Madrigal descendant, come close to that kind of performance? Anyone could dance after all, what she was planning to do would be nothing special.

You are great too, the voice inside her head whispered. Remember what you did a week ago.

She wouldn't let grief and envy get the better of her, especially tonight. Not when this was one of the few nights when she felt included in the celebrations. To some degree.

I'm going to shine!

Even as she was thinking this, she couldn't help her sixth sense telling her that she was missing something about Isabela, that maybe she could help her… if only she knew how…

Mirabel took the stage in the applause of the eager crowd.

"I would like to dedicate this performance to…"

Her eyes rotated through the onlookers, spotting her parents' fond faces first, then Camilo's raised thumbs-up, Luisa's excited nod, Dolores's hopeful eyes, Antonio's waving hand, Pepa's small smile, Félix's grin. Alma's serious face didn't discourage her, nor did Isabela's slight frown, which surprisingly seemed to soften a bit when their gazes met. She easily recognized other faces; some of the kids from the orphanage were also here, waving tirelessly at her.

Her eyes travelled farther, to the ends of the spectators, where fewer figures were standing on a mound, with a full and clearer view of the whole plaza.

It was Rafael she picked out first, who was on his brother's shoulders. Carlos's eyes seemed to flicker. If her intuition was right, then they'd been anticipating this ever since that day.

A surge of confidence overtook Mirabel. She moved her lips, "...to those who are willing to see… me."

She took her position.

The world stilled, waiting.

Her fingers twitched in foresight of the song she knew by heart. She was on the brink of the cliff of expectations, about to plunge into doing something she had rarely shown the world before.

And the music would be her wings to freedom. The thrill of the unknown boiled in her veins, making her heart burn and feet itch.

The music began. Mirabel moved with it, first in a ballad of pain, then in a cadence of energy.

The rhythm of her life. Of highs and lows, of disappointment and elation, of self-loathing and hope.

The rhythmic clapping and the plaza and the people became misty, fogged by the light within her. Her body was moving on autopilot. Flawless. Coordinated. Graceful.

This moment should never end. It should–

Thud!

Snap!

Mirabel opened her eyes, her elbow pulsing blindly. The front of her skirt was ripped, threads hanging loosely while the skirt layer beneath shone through. She fixed her glasses.

No…

No, no, no, no, no!

Not again!

The attention of the audience… She suddenly didn't want it anymore. It was oppressing her…

The music… She managed to get up on shaky legs just as the last notes marked the end of the song.

She failed right before the end…

With a fake smile, she hurried a curtsy in the applause of the public, feeling terribly unworthy of their praise. She didn't even glimpse anybody's face as she scurried away, trying to look comfortable, but knowing that the rigidness of her body gave her away by a mile.

She heard Julieta's troubled voice. Mirabel told her not to worry, told her she'd go home to swap outfits; before her mamá would have said anything, she fled. She stumbled into the bushes, feeling like ropes were secured around her chest. Her legs were numb, and her eyesight cobwebbed.

She was an utter failure.


The music had finally begun, and Carlos was glad he'd arrived in time. Isabela's performance had been beautiful, but it had seemed too grandiose to him. Something of a show-off of abilities.

Then, she walked in.

She was stunning. He'd never seen someone exude such light the way Mirabel Madrigal did.

How could she disparage herself so much? Just because of a gift she didn't have? Could she not see how awesome she was?

Mirabel was special in a way that nobody had the power to be. Carlos had known that for a fact ever since he'd laid eyes on her on that day he still thanked his lucky stars for.

Her dancing was nothing short of exceptional, just as he had fancied when he'd found out she was thinking of performing.

After she finished her number, he'd ask her to dance with him. The thought awakened a surge of tingle and delight, and although it didn't fail to awaken nervousness, he looked forward to doing it.

A scene played out before his eyes, started by the mirth of her beam, her poise, her passion.

Alejandra was in an exceptional mood. She'd been in an exceptional mood the entire day. As she was tugging Carlos after her, the nine-year-old boy grumbled.

"It's 1 a.m! Why are we going outside?"

"You'll see."

They reached the open-air area that was the wide balcony at the end of the hallway.

"The stars are marvellous tonight, aren't they?" she said dreamily.

"I don't see any!"

"Observe before answering, hermanito."

When he did, a short gasp escaped him, giving Alejandra reason to grin. She started dancing their papá's salsa choreography, the one they'd caught their parents doing mere days before. She roped him in.

"Promise me something, Carlos. That you'll always find the strength to dance even when life won't be the way you want it to."

He managed to spin her despite his shorter height, and looking at the stars, replied, "Te prometo."

The memory pinched his heartstrings, but recalling it brought more joy than sorrow this time. He hadn't understood the meaning of her words then, but as he kept growing, they made more and more sense.

Especially now.

Mirabel was still performing ever so strikingly, and he stood motionless, having no clue of the world around him but her.

Then she tripped, and the spell was broken. His heart jolted at the same time with her crash onto the ground. She remained there for a couple of frighteningly long moments before clumsily getting up, looking groggy, but still smiling. She didn't see the crowd, only looked through it.

He saw beyond that smile; it hid how fazed she was, how disappointed. She curtsied and strode away. Her despair was tangible, even when her back was turned to him.

"Stay with Señora Castillo!" he told Rafael, leaving him near the woman before darting on Mirabel's tracks.

He had to reach her.


Mirabel knew two things. One, she was running. Two, she'd made a fool of herself.

Why was it that every time there was a special occasion in town, she had to go through a miscarriage? Why couldn't she just do things right for once?!

How? Simply how?!

Where had she gone wrong?

Hours of consistent, exhausting practice, pain in the feet, clammy sweat and misplaced steps she thought she'd learnt to get past… all down the drain…

All for what? Another bang of embarrassment? And on the night of Año Nuevo out of all nights?! As if her fiasco got crowned?!

Was she doomed to spend another year of her life unlucky and unsuccessful, watching everyone move on in life while she stagnated in the same dull point?

She was pathetic.

She could partly see the familiar route to Casa Madrigal. She felt like a child who ran away from responsibilities, but at least her excuse was a good one; she had to change her outfit. She'd return…

Yes. Yes, she'd return!

She couldn't embarrass herself further by not showing her face to the party for the rest of the night. It'd be so easy to simply curl up in bed, but she had to maintain a reputation. If not her image, then the family's honour. That was what the Madrigals did; they were strong and steadfast. She wouldn't set a bad example, she wouldn't let Abuela down even further because of cowardice.

The streets were nearly empty, but the citizens she passed turned their heads after her. She didn't want to think about how poorly she must've looked.

She staggered, colliding with the ground. The world was shaking, tumbling with her in the abyss of dejection. Mirabel's eyelids drooped heavily as she let out a sob.

Steps rushed behind her; she heard her name before registering an unfamiliar touch on her shoulders. Two hands turned her around. A scent of mangoes and caramel hit her.

It probably took her longer than it should have to recognize Carlos. Dizziness and inability to speak were still dominating her. He said something, but her ears didn't hear till she forced herself back to full awareness. She wobbled on her legs, but he stabilized her.

"You need to take it easy, Mirabel."

Her eyes cleared entirely, and she stopped shaking. "I look horrible… I ruined my display…"

"Hush, cosa linda. You look no less stunning and you did amazing."

"No, I did not!" She breathed out, continuing the ascent to the magical house. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice. I'll just… I have to go home to change."

Carlos took out a wrapped napkin and opened it carefully.

"Of course, I understand. Here. Eat! It's your mamá's food."

His conspicuous concern almost scared her. Did she look that bad?

A buñuelo was offered to her. She gazed at the boy before taking it with slow fingers. The smell of cinnamon invaded her nostrils.

He prompted her, so she took a listless bite. The familiar warmth of Julieta's gift invaded her being, flowing through her in search of what it needed to mend. Her elbow, head, palms and knees ceased hurting at once as the food made its effect. Despite her being healed, Carlos still placed one more buñuelo in her palm, accompanied by the same gentle yet firm "Eat!". She satisfied his wish, and the second buñuelo enhanced her state, freshness rushing through her despite what had occurred.

Casa Madrigal was close; the wind whistled ever so slightly, carrying the scent of hyacinths along with the one of just-made bread. As they were walking, she scanned the damage done to her skirt, swallowing the last bite. She could fix the garment, but her heart sighed at the loose threads hanging from what was left of her painstaking embroidery.

"Carlos, I… Thank you!"

He smiled though his apprehension didn't vanish. "Anytime."

"You can stop worrying now. I'm fine."

Those stunning eyes didn't even blink, and his features continued to convey his uneasiness. They were next to the gates of Casita, and the living house opened them for Mirabel, but she didn't cross the threshold. Something kept her in place, something that made the two teenagers sustain eye-contact.

There was hope in his eyes, a glint of purity making its way through his hazel irises. "You'll return, sí?"

She sensed that he doubted she would.

"Of course I will!"

He gained vigour in a way that reminded her of Pepa's best moods and rainbows.

"I've made a fool of myself," she continued, "I can't make a coward out of myself too."

His brows lowered slightly. "Why are you saying such dreadful things? You're too hard on yourself, Mirabel. You should have seen yourself dance."

Her eyes enlarged. His frown had dissipated, and there was a dreamy spark in his gaze. His smile was soft now, so contrasting to the disquieted one from before.

"And fall," she added.

He rolled his eyes, but the gesture was good-natured. "You're acting as if no performer has ever had an accident on stage."

"It wasn't an accident, I haven't practised enough!"

"I highly doubt that."

When she made no answer, he sighed and placed a hand upon her shoulder, squeezing it a little; his fingers were warm.

"Didn't you say that one's journey shouldn't be stopped by a setback? You didn't do anything awry. It was a lifted tile that caused you to trip."

"As if you saw! You were a mile away!"

He froze; she mentally slapped herself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Go on."

"Mirabel, from a dancer to a dancer. You. Were. Astonishing. I wish you could see yourself just like the audience saw you tonight when you asked it to."

Julieta's repeated comforting reassurance crossed her mind, I wish you could see yourself the way I do.

But how exactly did Carlos see her? He might be encouraging her now, but what if it was all a facade?

She searched his eyes for silent moments. No sign of a lie, only uprightness and genuinity. She attempted to find her words, but nothing left her mouth. She'd already thanked him for his attentiveness, but she felt as if that wasn't enough.

He tilted his head to the side. "I'll wait for you around here, okay? I don't wish rumours to spread about a stranger casually standing before Casa Madrigal."

Her tongue disengaged. "You're not a stranger. And you don't have to wait for me."

"Oh, I'd very much like to! If… that's alright with you."

"I have nothing against it. I'll try to be quick. See you, Carlos!"

Just then, Agustín's voice reverberated through the air, calling her. Carlos ducked behind a tree just as her father rounded a corner.

Agustín sprinted towards her. "Mija! There you are!" He embraced her, kissing her forehead. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"I'm alright, Papá. I only have to change, then I'll be back."

He looked at her suspiciously.

"I promise. You don't have to wait for me to be ready, but I'd really like to return on my own. You know, for my dignity."

He grinned at her, nodding and squeezing her hands in his. "You danced so well, mi vida!"

She didn't argue this time. Despite his clumsiness, her papá was a fairly skilled dancer himself, and a big part of what she could do, she owed to him and his patience.

Just then, Agustín's voice reverberated through the air, calling her. Carlos ducked behind a tree just as her father rounded a corner.

Carlos's uplifting echoed in her mind, the warmth of his words lingering in her soul.

She was not going to wallow in self-pity. She would go out there, right back on the ring, and dance until her feet burned, not heeding who noticed her and who didn't.

She slipped into a midi jade green dress with shimmers of cyan and short frill sleeves and a circle skirt, which she adored for the volume it gave. She donned a pair of turquoise espadrilles to match her attire, neatly tying their straps in bows above her ankles. She added her favourite hoop green tassel earrings alongside a beaded bracelet of the same colour on her left wrist. She brushed her hair, adjusted her glasses.

She was on the brink of exiting in the same rush, but something caught her eye. In the moonlight, her accordion was like a magnet that begged her to take it along.

This occasion was far too important not to make use of her beloved instrument. Grinning, she seized it, securing its straps across her chest while the accordion rested on her back.

For a split moment, she observed herself in the full-length oval mirror.

The thrill of the special night tugged her out of Casita; the house moved its tiles in farewell.

The gates opened widely, the sounds of joyful music calling to her already.

Mirabel felt flames ignite inside of her, propelling her forward without reluctance, and her skirt flailed in a dance about her.

Yes, she would shine.


A/N: Thanks for reading and for your feedback! Hope you enjoyed!

Things don't always go to plan, do they?

Carlos took Mirabel's advice to heart, and he feels that they are in the same situation somehow, two teens pushing through the hardships of life, which makes him feel even more connected to her. He sees her pain and understands her.

Also, Mirabel definitely didn't expect someone to check on her so fast.

I'd be grateful if you let me know what you think!