Down South

Capítulo Dos

When I came home, to my surprise, the small house was quiet. Mamá was out grocery shopping, Papá was outside hewing trees into lumber. Alberto was at school, probably drooling and asleep from all his "hard" math while Carlos was bragging to his friends about his main character in his play.

And Cilantro was curled into a tight ball on my lap as I read Cloe y su Unicornio, a story about a girl and her unicorn. As my eyes skipped through the pages of the unicorn outside the window in the morning for Phoebe, I laughed, that moment made me picture Cinnamon watching me at cena through the window.

Flipping through the pages, I saw more of Marigold, the unicorn, bringing Phoebe to her school. My eyes brightened at the thought of riding to school. That would be so fun!

Once I put it down quietly, I heard the door swing open and Mamá calling, "Mija! I'm home!" she added, "I'm making enchiladas tonight!". I grinned at the sound of my favorite food. I was in for a treat tonight!

"Mija! You're missing out on all your cena!"

"Uhh... yeah. What were you saying again?" I asked nervously.

"We need to ban books from the dinner table. ¿En serio, Cleo? You're just like your daydreamer brother." Papá grumbled. "Hey," Alberto exclaimed. "You can't just say that!" "We all know what a sleeper you are, Mijo, or what you're trying to be." Mamá laughed, motioning towards his dark eyebags.

With a confused Alberto picking at his eyebags and an annoyed Papá, I finished my book in record time to see Cinnamon staring right back at me through the stained glass window that let you look out the ranch.

"Ca-can you pass the enchiladas?" I stuttered, empty-mouthed to see Cinnamon pressing against the window, as if to nuzzle me from the window.

"Are you okay, Mija? You look like you just saw a giant squirrel rapping with acorns that had arms showering him with applause!" Carlos handed me the plate, all while chuckling at his own joke.

I didn't respond. Even though the entire family cracked up, even Abuelo's cut-off laugh was blended into the laughter.

As I picked up the lone enchilada and smushed it into my mouth, I choked on it as I practically screamed, "There's cilantro in here!" It left with quite an entrance, using my mouth as an escape hatch. I gagged as it fell loudly onto the plate with the disgusting remains left in my mouth.

Cilantro, the cat, looked up, as if he was waiting for one of us to drop leftovers to him under the table, against Mamá's stern rules. All Cinnamon did was stare at me wide-eyed, very creepily, which I'm pretty sure was because she thought I almost died. All the shock from Cinnamon and the cilantro did was stay, lurching in my stomach.

"I-I need to go outside."

I opened the backdoor, hissing to Cinnamon when she approached me, excited, "Why were you out there? I thought I locked-" In that moment, I realized: I. Left. Her. Outside.

"Oh, Cleo, Cleo." I muttered to myself.

I crept carefully past the window with Cinnamon right behind me. Once we approached her barn, I pulled her bridle angrily.

"Ugh! I have to stop forgetting these things!" I practically shoved Cinnamon into her stall door, but then a sudden flow of empathy gushed into me.

"Canela... I'm so sorry. You're just that innocent defendant, and I'm that accusing judge." I sighed as I sat down on a mound of dirt, kicking at a few strands of hay on the dusty floor.

"Wait—Agh! That's manure!! Ewwww!" Thoroughly brushing off the disgusting poop from my riding pants, I groaned, "Great. I'm never going to wear my favorite riding pants ever!" Cinnamon probably tried to stifle her snort, but she's a big horse, you see, 14.2 hands, to be exact. You think you could not hear a snort from Canela? Well, if you thought so, very much yes, yes you can hear her.

I heard her, glared at her for a split second, then we both burst out laughing. At least that's what I think her nickering was.

"Aw, sweet girl. ¡Dulces sueños, Canela!" I called to her while walking back to the house.

"¡Cleo! ¿Dónde has estado?" Papá asked me impatiently as I strolled calmly through the backdoor. I froze. I was no longer a cool cucumber, but a frozen ice cube.

"Uh... I felt sick!" I announced, dashing upstairs, loudly smashing the feeble stairs with my clumsy feet.

"Phew." I breathed a long sigh of relief while pushing my back to the door to close. While it shut, I bounced onto my bed, creating flecks of the dust spotlighted in the twilight. Suddenly my back slumped against the wall.

As I was about to tuck myself drowsily into my bed, I remembered. "Oh, shoot!" I exclaimed, "I didn't do my nightly routine!"

After a hot shower (what felt like the most wonderful thing in the world, after the, er, poop incident) and a quick brush of my teeth, I finally gave myself the treatment I deserved.

I yawned quietly in the dark, thinking all about my adventures that happened the whole day. Riding off wildly with Canela, having an outrageous dinner of what felt like an enchilada bursting top to bottom with cilantro, and in the end, and then having a relaxing night that I needed.

I let my eyelids flutter closed, ready for a very peaceful night of rest.