Who Am I Now?

Where You've Always Been

All Antonio wanted to do was climb up on the roof and balance on the edge. He used to do that all the time with Casita, but his mamá would not let him.

"Why not, mamá?" he asked.

"You might fall, mijo."

"But Casita won't let me fall. It never does."

"That's not Casita, Toñito," his mamá murmured.

"Isn't it?"

"No. Casita is gone, mijo."

"But Casita is almost better. And then I can talk to Parce again."

His mother's blue eyes welled with tears, and she knelt down. His father, sister, and brother stared at him sadly as Pepa hugged him.

"I don't think you'll ever be able to talk with him again."

"But the magic will come back with Casita. And Casita's almost better."

"Hermanito, it's gone," Dolores said, her voice deliberately louder than usual. She sounded sad.

Antonio shook his head, panic clawing at his chest. The thought that the magic wouldn't come back had never crossed his mind. It had to come back!

"No!" he said, pulling back. "No, the magic will come back! And I'll be able to talk with them again!"

"No, hermano. That's not how the magic worked," Camilo said. "The candle gave us the magic. The candle's gone."

Antonio backed away, staring in horror at his parents. Pepa reached out to him, but Antonio shook his head.

"Antonio," Félix said. "I know it's hard, but—"

"No!" Antonio screamed.

Then he turned and bolted into the house that was not Casita. He ducked through people's legs and climbed the stairs that would never let him slide, past the doors that would never glow again, to one that had stopped years before. He didn't want to be found, and Bruno's room had always been off-limits. So he turned the knob and ran inside, shutting it behind him.

It was a plain room, not the waterfall of sand and desert cliffs that Mirabel had described to him. He whimpered as he realized he'd never see Bruno's room now. The rats had been so excited about it, talking about the sand and rocks with fondness. And why had they been fond of it? Because Bruno had taught them to be.

Sometimes at night, when everybody else was asleep, Bruno had taken his rats to his room to play in the sand. He never went into the big cave anymore, they had told him, but he loved to play with them and laugh in a big open space with fresh air. Sometimes he would sit by the window for hours and look out at the night at a world he was no longer a part of. And Antonio had been sad for Bruno.

And now, looking at this plain little room and realizing the magic was gone forever, Antonio began to cry. He hadn't realized he'd lost everything permanently. He'd thought that the magic would come back once Casita was rebuilt. But there was no candle. There was no magic. It would never come back. He heard his father calling for him, and he crawled under the bed. The door opened.

"Antonio?" Félix called.

Antonio didn't answer. The door closed, and Antonio placed his face in his arms and cried. He heard the men and women gathering their tools and heading outside. The work was nearly done. Just an hour before, he'd been excited to see Casita again, but now? Now all he felt was cold loss.

After a while, the door opened again, and Antonio pressed his hands over his mouth as dusty feet came across the room. Then they stopped in front of the bed. Antonio didn't move as the man knelt down. But when a soft, familiar doll appeared in front of him, he gasped.