There was a price for late-night rock antics.
You woke up the next morning with a terrible, foggy headache, exhausted from the sleepless night.
Tomorrow night, forbidden rock penpal.
You sneakily reread Camilo's last message with a smile, pulling the rock out of its arguably uncreative hiding spot under your bed.
I hope he doesn't get bored of this. Of me.
You tried not to construct romantic hopes. And failed. You silently ate breakfast with your abuela and father. He made eye contact and smiled kindly.
Maybe it would be better if he forgot about me. This can't end well.
After breakfast, your father accompanied you to market, probably not trusting you to get groceries without careening away with the nearest Madrigal. A valid concern.
You glanced around the market, secretly searching for the only person you could think of. And shouldn't be thinking of. Valeria the fish lady animatedly whispered to a poor, hapless shopper. You didn't have to be Dolores to know their one-sided conversation topic.
"Are you upset?" Your father finally broke the tense silence. "You haven't said a word all day."
"I just don't understand what's wrong with-" You frowned, deciding not to reveal your father's secrets to the townspeople. "You know."
He pinched his nose and breathed slowly. "Just wait a little longer, (y/n). Then I can tell you everything. I promise."
"Exactly! That's what's bugging me!" You exploded, then quieted your voice to avoid attention. "You said wait a week. Why a week?"
"Just trust me." Your father placidly responded with infuriating calmness.
You huffed out an angry sigh. Trust you, and then you'll tell me "everything?" It sounds like you've been hiding an awful lot.
You finally arrived at the sectioned-off food market. Pink-petaled flowers embellished the walkway, and woven wooden fences outlined the crops. Apparently, before Isabella had received her gift, the townspeople had needed to grow their own food. The Madrigal Abuela had quickly discovered how easily her granddaughter could create plants, and she had dedicated a generous plot of land to Isabella's magical Flower Farm. You couldn't imagine life without it.
Isabella stood in an alcove like a perfect statue, arms extended on either side and silky hair cascading down the back of her violet dress. Her eyes watched the visitors through dark, long eyelashes. Mirabel would have rolled her eyes at her sister's flowery performance. You crushed a giggle. You missed her.
Isabella gracefully swished an arm, and a banana tree broke through the dirt, immediately sprouting to its full height. The gathering crowd cheered and Isabella smiled, distributing bunches of bananas into their eager arms.
"Don't thank me; you all are too kind," she gushed. When she passed you, her eyes flashed in recognition and she gave a dazzling smile.
"Hello. (Y/n), right? Thank you for watching me," She said with a grandly magnanimous air.
"Hi, Isabella," You smiled back. You wanted to like Isabella. You really did. But something darker lurked behind her sparkly petals and fake niceties.
"Here." She said, delicately flicking her wrist. A orange flower blossomed from the twine fence between you two. She plucked it, reached out, and fastened it in your hair.
As she leaned over, she whispered with narrowed eyes, "Tell Camilo to keep it down next time he sneaks out."
You froze, then sheepishly nodded. "Is he loud?"
"The loudest."
Embarrassed, you promised, "Don't worry, I'll tell him." Who else knew about you and Camilo? Dolores, obviously. Maybe Mirabel. Did his parents?
An unreadable expression shadowed your father's features, and he pulled you away, thanking Isabella with a forced smile.
Suddenly, a lanky man with serpent-like eyes slunk out from behind a market stall. Your father grimly nodded to him, and they firmly shook hands.
Clink.
An object tumbled out of your father's satchel and bumpily rolled to your feet. You snatched it and scanned its dulled golden patterns. They looked oddly familiar.
The stump of a candle .