Coco fanfic-To Be Forgotten

A Bright Future

Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all are safe and healthy! Thank you so much for all of your comments (especially the one about leaving the zoom meeting lol). I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter! And may your 2021's be a lot brighter 2020 has been😅.

Miguel's POV

My eyes widened, but I relaxed quickly once I realized something mi papá had apparently forgotten. "It's Sunday evening. Who would be at the school? And, do you have the nearest hospital's number memorized, or...?" I trailed off, my eyes narrowing slightly at the prospect of mi papá knowing both of those numbers off the top of his head. 'That would be weird, right?'

He frowned. "I may not be able to get ahold of the school, but if those bruises look too concerning, I won't hesitate to call your Uncle Luis." He warned, crossing his arms.

I scowled as I jumped onto his and Mamá's bed. I tended to forget about my Mom's side of the family sometimes, mostly because we only saw them once every few years, as they lived in the United States. Not to mention that I'd completely forgotten about the fact that Uncle Luis was in some fancy medical school in Florida to become a something-trician. I wracked my brain for a moment, trying to remember what the word was for doctors that took care of kids. I quickly abandoned this task, however, when I noticed mi papá was talking.

"—your shirt."

I blinked. My expression must have shown my confusion, because he sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. I bit my lip, hoping I hadn't zoned out for too long.

"In order to look at the bruises, I need you to take off your shirt." He repeated with a small, exasperated grin.

I exhaled slightly, relieved somewhat that mi padre wasn't actually angry at me. Grimacing, I slipped out of my jacket, and tugged my T-shirt off, trying to avoid brushing the material against the still tender head wounds. It took a few seconds longer than it normally would have, and by the time I was finally dropping the dirty article on the ground, I couldn't help but wish I'd put a looser shirt on yesterday.

My father breathed in sharply. His face paled rapidly, and his mouth spewed forth a litany of swears that made me somewhat question whether my father had completely obeyed the 'no music' rule in his youth as well. 'I've only ever heard language that bad at the plaza, and even then, never except for on rare occasions or very late at night. Or after very close fútbol games, I guess.' I smirked slightly, just imagining the aghast expression on Mamá Imelda's face if she were to hear mi papá now. 'She would be chasing him around the room with her chancla probably, while Papá Héctor tried to calm her down. Or maybe—'

"Hospital. Now." Mi padre demanded through clenched teeth, steam practically blasting out of his ears. I gaped at him as he reached out to pick me up from under my arms, again, only just managing to awkwardly shuffle further onto the bed and avoid his reach.

"What?! No! I don't want to go to the hospital!" I exclaimed, trying to find enough purchase on the slippery sheets to push myself far, far away from the, quite frankly, alarmingly physical display of concern.

'What on earth is going on? He's acting loco! He's never even mentioned getting any sort of medical help before for any of my bruises, and now all of a sudden he wants to drag me off to the hospital?'

I narrowed my eyes, finding this sudden change highly suspicious. "What the heck is going on?! I've had bruises like this since I was, like, nine." I avoided mi padre's arm as he tried to reach for me from across the wide mattress. "Why is it now, all of a sudden, that you want to drag me off to the hospital for them?" I asked, not even bothering to mask my irritation at mi padre trying to haul me away like a sack of potatoes.