𝙀𝙉𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙊: 𝙒𝘼𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀

2: THE FAMILY MADRIGAL!

Disclaimer: I only own some of the plot and my two ocs.

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ABUELA: Abre los ojos, open your eyes.

(ENCHANTING MUSIC PLAYS)

YOUNG MIRABEL: This is where out magic comes from?

A chorus of cooing reverberated through the room. Mirabel's cheeks were flaming as her mother pinched them. She glared at Camilo, who was making mocking "aww" faces behind Julieta's back.

ABUELA: Mm-hmm. This candle holds the miracle given to our family.

YOUNG MIRABEL: How did we get a miracle?

ABUELA: Long ago, when my three babies had just been born, you Abuelo Pedro and I were forced to flee our home. And though many joined us, hoping to find a new home, we could not escape the dangers and your abuelo was lost. But in our darkest moment, we were given a miracle. The candle became a magical flame that could never go out. And it blessed us with a refuge in which to live. A place of wonder.

"An Encanto!" Antonio exclaimed.

YOUNG MIRABEL: An encanto.

"That's what I said!"

The Madrigals and villagers couldn't help but smile at the youngest Madrigal's cuteness.

ABUELA: An encanto. The miracle grew. And our house, our casita itself came alive to shelter us. When my children came of age, the miracle blessed each with a magic Gift to help us. And when their children came of age . . .

YOUNG MIRABEL: They got magic, too!

Camilo fake-gasped. "Really? I had no idea!"

Mirabel rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Camilo."

ABUELA: (CHUCKLING) That's right! And together, our family's Gifts have made our new home a paradise. Tonight, this candle will give you your Gift, mi vida. Strengthen our community, strengthen our home. Make your family proud.

YOUNG MIRABEL: Make my family proud.

Mirabel mouthed the words again, except this time it wasn't a determined goal or something she was about to achieve. She had tried and tried to do whatever she could to make her family proud of her, to not feel like a burden on the Madrigal name, but no matter how hard she tried, she ended up messing everything up.

She wasn't super strong like Luisa or effortlessly perfect like Señorita Perfecta Isabela (who probably never had a bad hair day). She couldn't heal wounds with food like her mother or control the weather like Tía Pepa. She didn't have anything special but . . .

But what?

What do you have that makes you special.

Come to think of it, what makes you think you're special at all?

My mama said so. Mirabel tried so sound confident as she shoved down a threatening lump rising in her throat.

Oh, your mama said so. Well that just puts things into perspective, doesn't it?

The negative thoughts might have continued to bring her down, but she was distracted as the boy—Leo, was it?—nudged her foot with his. 

"Hey. You alright?"

Mirabel snapped her head in his direction, but he wasn't looking at her. She thought that maybe she had just imagined it, and looked down again, but she heard him whisper, "You don't seem alright."