19. Chapter 19

A/N: Edited 6/24/22 for spelling and grammar.

Chapter 19

"Is Bruno courting Lucía?"

The dish Julieta was washing nearly slipped from her fingers, and she caught it just in time. "Mamá!" She whispered, half laughing, half-shocked, and carefully set the plate for Pepa to dry. They didn't often wash dishes together anymore – their children took care of that, most of the time. They had only done so this morning because the entire family hadn't eaten together. Everyone grabbed their own breakfast as they saw fit and - with the exception of Antonio, Mirabel, and Camilo, who had school – had done their own dishes afterward. Julieta was helping Pepa finish the remaining dishes before they attended to their duties in town while their husbands took care of their own duties around the house (today was a cleaning day). Bruno and Isabela hadn't even gotten up yet. It wasn't unusual for either of them to sleep in, now – Bruno had always kept odd hours, even before Casita fell, and lately Isabela had been working late preparing flowers for the festival. Julieta made a mental note to check on the two of them before she left Casita, just in case.

Mamá stood in the kitchen behind her two daughters. Her brows were drawn together and her eyes unfocused, and her mouth was turned down at the edges. When she saw Julieta looking at her, she blinked and gave her a sad smile. "Well – is he?"

"Not yet, he isn't," Pepa muttered as she finished drying the dishes. She placed them on the counter beside her and Casita bumped them gently along, back to their places.

Julieta gave her hermana a look. As happy as Bruno had been performing with Lucía the night before, he was equally as frustrated with his family and their teasing afterward. Camilo, especially, had not been subtle.

Thankfully, after some silent communication between herself and her husband that had been perfected after decades of marriage, Agustín had finally caught on to the undercurrents of the evening. He had gently redirected the teasing to himself – 'Ay, are you sure he wasn't just acting, Milo? Are you jealous of your tío's abilities, eh?' – which devolved into a good-hearted argument between tío and sobrino. While Camilo and Agustín were bickering, Bruno had escaped to his room. (Really, Camilo was attempting to bicker, and Agustín had simply smiled cluelessly and made increasingly infuriating, purposely oblivious, and ridiculous comments. Félixhad been doubled over with laughter by the time Agustín shrugged and ended the debate with 'If you say so. I just didn't see it.') Bless her sweet and supportive husband for running interference.

Mamá frowned and she absentmindedly rubbed her locket between her fingers. "Does he want to? Is Brunito - is he interested in her? Should I speak with Señor Hernandez? Should I – do something to encourage them?" She sat carefully on a chair near the table.

Pepa and Julieta exchanged a look. Once upon a time, Mamá never would have asked. She'd just have gone and done what she thought was right, regardless of how anyone else felt about it. Julieta dried her hands on her apron and sat beside her madre, covering her worried hands with her own. "Mamá, you don't need to do anything."

"You definitely do not need to speak with Señor Hernandez. We're not teenagers, Mamá," Pepa added.

Mamá sighed.

Julieta and Pepa exchanged another look. "Why are you so worried about this?"

"I'm not worried."

Julieta raised an eyebrow at her.

Mamá pressed her lips into a thin line and looked away, battling with something internally.

After a moment, her shoulders lost some of their tension and she looked at her daughters again. "I want Bruno to be happy."

"We all do," Julieta said softly.

"Last night, he looked happy. I was happy – so happy - for him. But then - I thought – perhaps he had already decided to pursue her, without – without telling us." She looked at her hands, and her expression was one of shame. "Without telling me."

"I've – hurt him in so many ways, mijas. I was afraid…" her voice trailed off. "I was afraid – not afraid, I was – I am – resigned. If I am witnessing the consequences of my actions, I accept that. But I still mourn - that he wouldn't trust me with his feelings for her, and that's why I was the last to know."

They were silent for a long moment, contemplating her words.

Pepa sat beside her mother and pulled her in for a side hug. It was short and quick and a bit awkward – but welcome on both sides. "If it makes you feel better, Mamá, I don't think you're the last to know. We all sort of just – suspected this past week or so and it was confirmed with glaring certainty last night. But - Bruno and Lucía, they're the last to know. I could spell their feelings in the sky with clouds and they'd just say it looked like rain." She rolled her eyes and shook her head with disdain, but there was a smile on her face.

Alma frowned. "Should I talk to him?"

Julieta squeezed her mother's hands gently. "Mamá, please hear me when I say: You do not need to do anything. Bruno is fifty years old and Lucía is a widow with a child. You cannot will them into a relationship - "

She left it unsaid, but still, it hung there in the air between them – like you did with Isabela and Mariano.

Pepa sighed. "I hate to admit it, but – as usual – Juli is right." She stuck her tongue out at her hermana and Julieta wrinkled her nose at her.

Pepa turned back to her mother. "I will tease, Camilo will tease, Dolores and Julieta will listen and watch – the entire familia will listen and watch and wait and tease and encourage and that's all we can do - "

"-it's all we should do," Julieta interrupted.

Pepa narrowed her eyes at her. "As I was saying – Mamá – for now - just wait. If it's meant to be, it will be. I want him to be happy, but he has to choose it for himself."

"So you're saying it will not be taken in the same light as Camilo if I ask when the wedding is?"

Julieta and Pepa tried to hide the horrified looks on their faces and failed.

Alma chuckled and lay one palm on Julieta's cheek and the other on Pepa's. "Mis hijas. I believe that is called teasing." She sighed. "I love all of you so much – mis trellizos. (1) Gracias, for being patient with me. I will stay out of it. I will not – attempt to manipulate things in Bruno's favor. I will listen and wait and encourage."

Pepa and Julieta exchanged another look – this one of pleased surprise. "I take it all this means you approve of her, Mamá?" Pepa raised her eyebrow.

"I question, now, whether it is my place to approve of her or not. As you said – he is a grown man, and Lucía a grown woman with a child. But – yes. I approve." She squeezed Julieta's hand and looked at her intently. "I'm trying, mi amor."

Julieta squeezed back and gave her a peck on the cheek. "I know, Mamá. And I'm so proud of you."

"Felicidades, children. You all did a wonderful job on your presentations on your chosen plants this past month. As you know, La Feria de Las Flores begins next Wednesday, and we will have a short recess from school while the city celebrates." Señora Lopez turned from the chalkboard, where she'd written La Feria de Las Flores in flowing script, and smiled. "In preparation for the festival, we will be working on another project."

Several students groaned, and she narrowed her eyes at them, her lips pursed. "Now," she continued. "If you bear with me while we review the history of the event, I believe you will find this project to be much more exciting than your previous one."

Señora Lopez spent the next twenty minutes reviewing the history of the festival – an amalgamation of history and culture brought into the Encanto from all the places its citizens had lived, before. During the colonial era in much of Colombia, skilled workers created wooden structures with handles called silletas. They used these silletas to transport both goods and people from higher social classes on their backs through steep mountain passages. Later, after Colombia won independence from Spain, the silletas were used by farmers to carry loads of flowers and produce into nearby cities to sell. In the days before the Encanto formed, it was widely popular around the summer harvest time to have parades or fiestas including the silletas, celebrating the freedom, endurance, and ingenuity of the Colombian people. (2) The first year the Encanto formed, they had not had time to prepare fields for planting, but the magic of the miracle provided plenty of food that first spring. Every year following, they had held a small festival honoring the advent of the miracle itself in November, and a small festival celebrating its gifts in the spring. The festival honoring the miracle remained one of solemn remembrance, but the festival celebrating the flowers and produce and beauty of the miracle grew and grew. It was now a five-day long celebration of parades, music, dancing, performances, and food, and the dates of the festival had changed to August to coincide with the non-magical summer harvest and the blooming of the flowers. Remembering and honoring the hard work and sacrifice of the generations before them and celebrating the amazing gifts and blessings they had been given in the natural beauty around them were important parts of the festival.

"And now, I want each of you to choose a partner or group and choose one of your favorite aspects of the festival. You may choose to work alone if you so desire, but a group would make your workload easier. Perhaps your favorite aspect of the festival is the silletas, or the flower sculptures Señorita Isabela Madrigal makes. Perhaps it is the music, or a dance, or a food. Yes, Jorge?"

"So we get to choose our partners?"

"Sí, you get to choose whom you work with, though I will help break you into smaller groups if a group becomes larger than six students." Señora Lopez smiled at the expressions of shock and excitement on most of her students' faces. She loved teaching the younger students; she loved giving them the chance to enjoy learning. "You must research your favorite festival tradition by speaking with your families and neighbors to see what it means, when it was incorporated into the festival, and how it has changed in the fifty years since the Encanto has formed. How you present what you've learned is up to you. Perhaps you make your own silleta depicting your favorite food from the festival. Perhaps you write a song explaining the history of the silleta. Or, maybe you bake us all a treat that represents the produce of the Encanto. If you need help narrowing down your ideas or deciding how to present your research, I will be available to help. But this project is meant to be fun. I expect you to do your best work, but what work you choose to showcase is up to you. Perhaps writing essays is not your strong suit. This is your chance to shine."

Félix knocked on the door to his cuñado's room, and then brushed the sand out of his hair after walking through the sand curtain that fell on the other side. "Bruno! Hermano…" he called as he made his way to Bruno's bedroom.

He knocked on the door and waited.

There were shuffling sounds, and then the door swung open to reveal a tousle-haired, bleary-eyed Bruno who could barely blink both eyes at the same time. "Mmmmm?" He grunted.

"Hey, bro – Juli asked me to check on you. She had to go to town to work and wanted to make sure you were among the living before lunchtime. It's – ah – it's lunchtime."

Bruno finally managed to blink both eyes simultaneously and rubbed his face with one hand. "S'lunch?" He stepped back from the door and stumbled back into his room, flopping into the chair by his desk. Several of his rats pulled the curtain open, allowing the grey light of a rainy morning into the room.

Félix stepped forward and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Sí, hermano. I know Pepa's giving the town a good watering today – it's good sleeping weather, I'll give you that - but she'll be done soon – she doesn't even have to walk the fields anymore. She just stands where she wants and moves the clouds with her wind! Mi amor, she's so talented." His chest swelled with pride for a moment, and then he gave Bruno a benevolent, knowing grin. "Your amor – she is pretty talented, too, eh?"

Bruno let his forehead fall to the desk with a gentle thunk. "Not you too." He mumbled under his breath.

Felix shrugged. "I'm only speaking on what I saw. And from what I saw – you're into each other, bro."

"She's a good actress. We were acting."

"No one is that good."

Bruno lifted his head to glare at him, and Felix held up his hands. "Fine, fine – I won't say anything more right now, and I'll do my best to keep Milo from embarrassing you – though I'm not making any promises, there. Just know, if you want a refresher on your dancing skills before the festival to impress your woman- " Félix swayed his hips and spun in place – "I've got you."

Bruno blinked. That's right. There would be dancing at the festival. He and Lucía wouldn't be performing the whole time – only a couple shows, and the rest of the festival –

He shook his head before he could start fantasizing about strolling the streets, exploring the stalls, and dancing under the stars. "Thanks. But I'm – ah – I'm good. For now."

Félix shrugged and grinned. "Okay. But the offer stands." His grin faded after a moment, and he stepped fully into the room. "Can I – can I talk to you about something? Something completely unrelated."

Bruno shifted in his seat to face Felix. "Of course."

Félix couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Mi primo Juan Carlos – and his wife, Andrea – they – they've asked me to see if you'd consider having a vision for them."

Bruno looked up, fully awake now. "…oh?"

Félix pulled over a chair Mirabel had brought in to sit on the other day when she'd done the final fitting for the rats. He sat down backwards in the chair and crossed his arms over the back of it, his expression earnest and apologetic.

"At first, I was struggling to decide whether to ask at all – if I should just tell them no."

Bruno swallowed. That didn't sound good.

Félix met his eyes, and his normally playful, cheerful expression was grim. "Their daughter is sick, hermano. Juli's food helps, but only temporarily. She's always sick, always tired or cold or short of breath, and she bruises so easily. Her symptoms began shortly after Casita fell, when Julieta didn't have her gift. When she got it back, she began treating her regularly. She eats her food three times a day, but - "

Bruno looked away and closed his eyes. "-it's not working."

Félix shook his head. "Juli thinks it could be cancer. Marisol - she's only three years old."

"I – I can't do a vision if they're – if they're just – looking to see – hoping she lives. I can't do that. I can't - "

Félix shook his head. "It's okay, bro. That's – part of the reason I didn't even want to ask you. But that's not what they're looking for."

"What are they looking for?"

"They're considering leaving the Encanto."

Bruno's head jerked up and he stared at Félix. "What?"

Félix nodded. "Señora Ruiz – in her travels, she told of hospitals and treatments, advancements in medicine. Outside of the Encanto, outside of Colombia. They know -" Felix broke off for a moment, tears in his eyes, and took a moment to compose himself. "They know she will die if she stays here. They want to know – if they leave the Encanto, if they seek out modern treatment – will she live? If she lives, it is worth it to leave. If she will die anyway, it is better to stay here, in the home she's always known."

Válgame Dios, they were asking him to take the life of a child in his hands – they were trusting their child's life and death to his visions! (3) This was not a merry romp into San Cristobál, this was weighty and terrifying and the stakes were so high. Panic welled up and he began to tremble all over; he couldn't breathe –

Félix put both of his hands on Bruno's shoulders, a comforting, warm weight. "Breathe, hermano," Félix instructed gently. "With me." He demonstrated taking a deep breath, holding it, and letting it out slowly, and repeated it until Bruno breathed with him.

Félix released his shoulders. "Lo siento, Bruno. I shouldn't have asked. But Pepa said you deserved to decide on your own, and I thought - "

"No, no – she's right." Bruno sighed, and several of his rats clambered up his legs and settled on his shoulders and in his lap, and he stroked them as he calmed down. "I – I need to be able to say for myself. I have to – I have to decide and stand by that decision."

Félix nodded. "I understand. I'm glad I told you, then. I'll tell him you declined - "

"I haven't declined yet."

Félix blinked at him in amazement.

Bruno held up one hand, though he still kept his eyes on the rats in his lap. "I need to think about it. I'll – I'll let you know."

"I understand. Whatever you decide, we got you bro." Félix stood and nodded, offering a hand to help Bruno up. Bruno took Félix's hand and Félix pulled him up and into a tight embrace. "We've got you, bro," he repeated.

Bruno patted Félix's shoulder awkwardly. "Ah – thanks."

"But - " Félix stepped away. "Juli insisted you be up for lunch. Let's not keep her waiting, eh? You've got fifteen minutes, hermano. I'll leave you to it."

That afternoon, Josefina felt like she was floating.

These past few months had been marvelous! She'd never had so much fun in her life! First, the Madrigals had come to stay. Then, her Mamá began working with Don Bruno on their story for the festival, and she got to see him, and his rats, all the time. Not every day, but pretty close! Admittedly, her Papá's murales had disappeared, and that had been sad. It still made her feel like there were rocks in her stomach to walk by and see it gone. But her Mamá had shown her some of his other works, including the original, unfinished draft of the story she'd worked on with him, before she and Don Bruno made it into a performance for festival. She loved looking at it before placing it carefully back on the shelf in the cabinet. And now, now! She got to work on a project with Juancho and Alejandra and Cecilia and Antonio and Manuel!

They were going to make a small silleta, and Manuel, who was the oldest at eight years old, would carry it around the classroom in demonstration as the rest of them presented their work. They were going to use real flowers to make it until they realized that the scene they wanted to depict on it – the fireworks over the Encanto itself – would be very difficult to show using regular flowers. Antonio had said that Isabela was pretty busy, so they shouldn't ask her for help unless they really really needed it, and the other kids were going to protest until Josefina said that she had a bunch of paper at her house. They could cut and roll it into flowers and paint it or color it, and attach that to the silleta.

She was so excited to get started. And then she heard someone sniffling in the cornfields on her way home.

She paused, tilting her head to be sure she heard right.

Yep. Someone was definitely crying.

"Hola?" She called softly. "Está bien?"

The sniffling sound stopped.

Josefina waited. "I said, está bien?"

"Estoy bien," a gruff, childish voice responded. "Go away."

Josefina frowned. "Juan?" She pushed into the corn, threading through it until she saw the boy in question. It was Juan Valencia. He'd been crouching in between rows, but he quickly stood and angrily wiped the tears from his face, his school bag askew on his shoulders.

Josefina put her hands on her hips. "You don't look fine. You look sad."

"Well, I am fine. I'll do that stupid project on my own and I'll be fine."

Josefina's brows puckered together and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Señora Lopez's project is not stupid. It's fun! You can write an essay if you don't want to do something fun."

"I don't want to write an essay! And of course you'd think it was fun. You have six people in your group. It'll be fun and easy for you." He sounded bitter.

Josefina scrunched her nose at him. Juan could be so dumb sometimes. "Well, why don't you join a group if you want it to be easier?"

"You think I don't want to join a group?" Juan cried, and then lowered his voice when he realized how loud he'd been. "Nobody wants to work with someone who made the Madrigals angry."

"What?"

"My Mamí made Señora Madrigal angry because I told her about that dumb story your mamá read."

"It wasn't a dumb story, it was a good story!"

"Well I thought so too at first but I hate it now because it made Mamí so angry she yelled at yours. And then she said mean things about the Madrigals and everybody knows about it and now I'm not allowed to go to story time and we have to fix the murales and make – make – restitution to you and Mamí doesn't know how to do that because we can only afford to fix the murales and not buy something big for your family and she's angry and stressed and worried all the time and she and Papá are arguing and nobody wants to work with me on this project because nobody wants to work with someone who made Señora Madrigal angry, not even my best friend!" Juan's fists were balled at his sides and he was blinking rapidly as he kicked at a rock by his foot. "Well, who needs you, Jorge! Some friend you are."

Josefina blinked, and she puffed out one cheek as she thought. She felt bad for Juan. He could be dumb, and sometimes he was mean, but he was also sometimes fun and sometimes smart and he could do a lot of cool big kid stuff, like bouncing a fútbol on his head and knees and feet without dropping it. She took a deep breath. "You – you could join our group. If you want."

Juan stared at her and then laughed. "You're una pelota." (4)

Josefina's mouth dropped open and she stomped her foot in anger. "I am not! I'm - "

"I couldn't join your group. You have six people already and that's the biggest number you're allowed and I'm not even allowed to go to story time so I seriously doubt I'd be allowed to go to your house. And why would you even ask? You hate me!"

Josefina took a step back, surprised. He thought she hated him? "I don't hate you Juan. I'm still mad at your madre and I don't like you a whole lot but I don't hate you."

He snorted. "Gee, thanks."

"You don't like me, either."

He scowled but he didn't argue.

Josefina scrunched her face in thought. "But if we don't like each other, I figure maybe that makes us enemies. And Padre Tomás told us on Sunday that Jesus told us to love our enemies, and I just thought that maybe that means that I should invite you to be part of our group since you're so sad about not having one."

His expression changed to one of confusion, and then to something Josefina didn't quite know the name for. He looked a little bit sad and a little bit embarrassed. "Well – that's - " he sighed. "I just – can't. Okay?" His voice was gruff again. "Like I said, I'm fine. Just – go away."

Josefina regarded him warily for a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay. Bye."

She turned around to walk back to the road, but stopped and looked over her shoulder when Juan spoke again.

"Josefina? Lo siento. You're not una pelota."

Manuel was late. The rest of the group had already been working on the project for an hour, and they'd already made lots of dark-colored rolled paper 'flowers' to represent the night sky. They'd also begun making some brightly colored ones for the fireworks.

"Sorry I'm late, guys! I had to finish my chores before I came over and - "

"It's fine, Manuel! Come help me with the Encanto flowers! See, I mixed this brown and yellow and white and it looks a little bit like gold, I wanted it to look like the Madrigal magic - "

"Hey, great! Antonio, do you think this is a good color?"

Antonio looked over from where he was working quietly on blue flowers for the fireworks and nodded, a shy smile lighting up his face.

"Hey, Josefina," Cecilia called across the room. "I'm all out of paper and we still need some more for the rest of the Encanto under the fireworks. Do you have any more?"

Josefina brushed hair from her face, leaving a streak of green paint across her forehead. "Yeah, there's some re-usable paper on the shelf on that side of the cabinet." She pointed with her paintbrush. "It's got writing and drawing and stuff on it from old school homework but if we're painting part of it and rolling it up we won't see it anyway. You can use that."

"Okay, great!" Cecilia ran to the cabinet and yanked it open. Her eyes skimmed the shelves until she spotted some paper with writing on it and grabbed it. "Got some more, Juancho!"

They made short work of cutting the papers in half, rolling them into flower-like shapes, and painting the edges a pale golden-brown.

Bruno waffled for three days. One moment, he would be filled with confidence that he could do this. He would read something Lucía marked in the Bible – "You were born for such a time as this"; Esther 4:14. Or, he'd speak with her, or someone would thank him for a vision he'd had the past week – and he'd remember the contract and his family – and he would think – he could do this. Even if the worst possible vision were to appear – he could show them what they wanted to see. They already knew one future, and it was the worst one; they just wanted to know if there was a possible second outcome.

And then, he would panic. Because surely, this would only end in disaster. He would see a child's death. He would show parents the death of their child. He wasn't prepared for that. They would grieve and blame him and he'd have that on his conscious and he could not -

- and then, after a tentative foray into the church Sunday evening with his old confirmation rosary clenched in his fist – he'd overheard Juan Carlos and his wife Andrea praying. He hadn't meant to stay and eavesdrop, but they were so incredibly earnest and he felt paralyzed with fear that they would see him. He stepped into the shadows. They prayed to God, they prayed to Mary, they prayed to Saint Joseph and Saint Nicolas and Saint Blaise – pleading for wisdom for themselves and healing and peace for their daughter – and they prayed for him. (5)

They prayed for Bruno – for his peace and for his gift and for God's blessing on him and for themselves, for help understanding and responding with kindness and love if Bruno declined to assist them. It was a prayer of trust and grace and when they were done and Padre Tomás approached to comfort them, Bruno left before they could see him.

He told Félix that night to give them the contract. He would have the vision for them.

It took the entire weekend, but when the project was finished, Josefina and her classmates left it to dry on the table. They were so proud of how it had turned out. All of their carefully rolled and painted paper flowers looked so good on the small wooden silleta frame Manuel had brought. It really did look like the Encanto at night, with fireworks going off in the sky. They were excited to present it tomorrow – Monday - and see what everyone else at school had done.

Josefina had dinner with her mamá and Abuelo and then took her bath. They hadn't gone to the Madrigals since it was Sunday and everyone needed a rest, even though they hadn't been there since Friday night to do a run through of the play again. Mamá and Don Bruno had acted funny again, their cheeks turning colors and their faces going funny when they thought no one could see them. But Josefina could see them. She was always paying attention.

Josefina pointed out that they could rest just as well at the Madrigal's house, but Mamá had said 'no' and that was that.

After she'd been tucked in, she crept out of her room to take a look at their project one last time.

"Josefina?" Her mamá called from the courtyard below.

"Just going to the bathroom, Mamá!" Josefina rushed to the bathroom. She really did have to go, it wasn't a lie. She was just also going to take a detour and look at their project, too.

She snuck into the art studio afterward and gently touched the edges of the paper to make sure the paint was fully dry, and smiled when it was. Then, her eye caught a familiar drawing of a sword on one of the paper flowers on the edge of the silleta.

She blinked.

It couldn't be; it was impossible. She leaned forward, her heart dropping like a stone to her feet and her stomach turning itself over with a wet flop. Tears pricked her eyes and she raced to the cabinet, quietly pulling it open and hoping harder than she'd ever hoped in her life that the original draft of Una Princesa y Un Pirata would be sitting on the shelf where she left it. Where Mamá always left it.

It was gone.

"No." Josefina gasped and fell to her knees, rifling through the bottom shelf where the re-usable papers were kept. "No no no no no!" She didn't see it in the pile and her vision began to blur with tears. She stood on her tiptoes and looked through every shelf and nook and cranny in the cabinet, and then began looking on the worktable and the floor beneath it. "Please, no no no…" she whimpered, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands.

"Josefina?" She heard her mother call her name again, walking up the stairs to check on her. She couldn't let her know, not yet. Not until she had time to think of a plan to fix her mistake. She sprang up and darted out of the studio, shutting the door behind her and dashing to her room.

"Lo siento, Mamá!" She called, her voice wavering only a little bit. "I was just checking on my project again. Good night!"

She jumped into her bed and pulled the covers over her head, burying her face into the pillow.

"Josefina? Everything okay?" She heard Mamá pause in the doorway.

She made herself nod from under the covers, because she couldn't answer. Big tears were already leaking out of her eyes and pouring down her cheeks again.

"Okay. Te amo, mi fresita. Good night." Mamá pulled the door shut and walked away.

Josefina stayed under her blanket for a long time, crying quietly into her pillow.

Josefina woke up very early the next morning. The sky was just turning pink and the sun hadn't even made it up over the mountains, yet. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. She kept reviewing the weekend in her head, wondering where, exactly, she went wrong. How had she let this happen?

She felt angry at herself. She felt so sad that another part of her Papá was gone, and this time – it was her fault. She felt so guilty. She'd ruined her Mamá and her Papá's story! She'd been so angry at Señora Díaz and Señora Valencia for disappearing her Papá's murales, and now she'd just done the same thing. She wished more than anything in the world that she could go back in time and bring it back.

She had to fix this, somehow. She crept out of bed and down the hall to the art studio. Mamá and Abuelo were still asleep. She opened the door, and the silleta was still on the table, the light from the window not yet reaching the table it sat on. A sour, sick feeling pooled in the bottom of her stomach at the sight of it. She'd been so proud of it just yesterday, and now she'd wished she'd never thought of that dumb thing in the first place. She carefully pulled off the flower made with the drawing of the woman with the sword and unrolled it. The bottom edge was stained with paint, and the picture was cut straight through the middle. The sight of the ruined work made tears prick her eyes.

She couldn't fix this. She knew she couldn't fix it. Even if she pulled apart every piece of the silleta and unraveled all the paper and somehow glued it all back together – it would never be the same. There would be paint on it and it would be ugly and it was completely ruined. And then she'd have no project for school, and her friends would be mad. They might not even be her friends anymore. They might not want to work with her just like Jorge didn't want to work with Juan anymore. She shivered in the cool morning air, but there was a hot, heavy ball of anger and regret settling in her chest.

She stood in silence, her chin sunk to her chest, her hair falling around her face and tears dripping down her nose – just thinking.

She knew she couldn't fix the ruined artwork. Señora Valencia couldn't fix the murales, either - but the council told her to replace it and she'd heard the adults talking about the thing Juan said the other day – rest-it-ushon. She didn't know exactly what that meant, but Juan made it sound expensive. Maybe that meant buying a present to show you were sorry.

She sniffed. Maybe they'd make her go to the council and make rest-it-ushon too. Nothing could ever really replace her Papá's artwork. But maybe she could find something to show Mamá just how sorry she was, and then she wouldn't have to go in front of the council. That sounded scary.

All of a sudden, a thought struck her. She could find a good present for Mamá! Maybe, if she bought her a new book and drew her own story in it, it could show she was sorry!

She frowned. They'd used up most of the paint this weekend. Maybe Abuelo had something in the shop she could use…?

She crept downstairs, and came up empty. Abuelo had blank paper but she couldn't use the printing press and besides, blank paper wasn't fancy enough for a rest-it-ushon-sorry-present. She rifled half-heartedly through some boxes but she knew there wouldn't be anything like a blank book in there. All the books in the library already had stuff printed on them.

Her eyes widened as she realized where she could find all of those things – paints and books without writing in them – notebooks, that's what they were called - and maybe even another, bigger, more expensive present.

San Cristobál.

Josefina carefully carried the silleta through the streets. It was a little awkward, and a little big for her small frame, but it was light enough. She only had to stop and rest every few blocks, poking her head around corners to make sure no one would see her. The sun was still soft and low in the sky, and so far, she had only see two other people awake - but they hadn't seen her.

As soon as she'd had her epiphany, she'd realized she had to leave then. She didn't know exactly how long it would take to get to San Cristobál, but she thought that maybe if she left before school she might get back by dinnertime, and Mamá wouldn't even know she'd gone.

She still had to take the project to school, though, so her friends wouldn't be mad and so that hopefully no one would come to her house to collect the project and spill the beans that she wasn't at school. That also meant she had to get there before anyone else – namely, Señora Lopez. And so – she'd rushed to get dressed, packed her small mochila with some fruit and leftover arepas and all the money in her piggy bank and a small canteen of water, and carefully carried the silleta down the stairs.

No one had woken at her house yet. It was early, even for Abuelo. She'd left a little note on the table that she'd gone to school early to take her project.

She didn't say that she was planning on leaving it at school before heading to San Cristobál.

"What are you doing?" Juan's voice asked from somewhere behind her.

Josefina huffed and frowned, setting the silleta down on the ground. She only had a little ways left to go to get to school, but she was getting tired. It wasn't too heavy, but it was awkward to carry and her arms were tired. She'd had to go a longer way to avoid Alejandra's house, because if Alejandra saw her, she'd never be able to keep a secret. Josefina was sweating a little bit too, and it made her cranky as she turned to face him. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Juan scowled at her. "It looks like you're being una pelota and trying to carry that thing by yourself. Why isn't your mamá or abuelo helping you?"

"Because…" Josefina paused, thinking of a good reason. She'd never been this sneaky before and it was hard to keep everything straight. "Because I wanted to do it myself. And get to school early." She paused again. "What are you doing up so early?"

"None of your business." When she glared at him, Juan rolled his eyes. "My Papá is a farmer. He's always up early. Today I was helping him with chores before school."

"Oh."

Juan sighed and looked over his shoulder, as though expecting someone to scold him for talking to her. "…but I'm done now. Here." He held out his hands.

Josefina stared at them, wrinkling her nose. "What?"

"Give it to me."

"No!" Josefina pulled it closer to her. "You can't have it."

Juan snorted. "I don't want to keep it, dummy. I want to carry it for you. To school. I might as well go, too."

The silleta drooped in her arms. She was getting a bit tired. And if he helped, she'd get there faster. And then she could leave faster. And get back faster. "…Okay. Gracias." She handed him the silleta, and they began to walk the last two blocks to school together in awkward silence.

"So…" Josefina said, after a moment. "What did you end up doing for your project?"

Juan's cheeks turned red. "I baked. With mi mamá. We made obleas with ah…flowers on them. She's bringing them later."

"Oh! That sounds cool."

"…Gracias."

They reached the school, and thankfully – Señora Lopez had not yet arrived. They stood there for a moment, and Juan propped the silleta against the wall of the school.

"Okay, thank you!" Josefina said. "Can you make sure Señora Lopez gets that, por favor?" She began walking away.

Juan frowned. "Why? Where are you going?"

Josefina turned around and walked backward for a moment. "Umm…none of your business?"

Juan frowned.

She wasn't even going back to her house.

She was going in the direction of the main road.

He shrugged. Maybe she was going to see her tía, Señora Rojas.

"Josefina, mija, wake up! You're going to be late if you don't rise and shine, mi amorita!" Lucía knocked on the door to her daughter's bedroom, and opened it slowly. "Buenos días, sleepyhead!"

She frowned. Josefina's bed was clearly in disarray, but her child was not in it.

"Josefina?"

A quick check of the room revealed that Josefina was nowhere inside.

Lucía checked the art studio, but Josefina was not there, and neither was the project. She sighed and frowned and shook her head. Things began to click in her mind.

"Papá?" She asked as she tread lightly down the stairs. "Have you seen Josefina this morning?"

He shook his head and handed her the note from Josefina saying she'd left early to take her project to school. Lucía sighed again. She'd have to have a talk with her about asking permission beforehand. The Encanto was a safe place and most of the children walked to and from school or friends' houses or the market on their own all the time. Still, Josefina should have wakened her or her Abuelo and asked first.

It wasn't until Josefina failed to return home for lunch and siesta in the middle of the day that Lucía began to worry.

A/N:

1) Mis trellizos – my triplets

2) silletas – History of the silleta and information on La Feria de Las Flores in Medelín, Colombia was found at www dot medellin advisors dot com/la-feria-de-las-flores/

3) Válgame Dios – God help me/God save me

4)una pelota – literally, 'a ball'. Figuratively – Colombian slang meaning 'idiot/dummy'

5) Saint Joseph, Saint Nicholas, and Saint Blaise are all Patron Saints of children. I am not Catholic so I apologize if I am mistaken in any portrayals of that branch of Christianity. I will correct any mistakes I make if you let me know.

As always, thank you so much for your time, reviews, and support. You're the best! God bless you all and have a great week!