Worth The Shot

Whisper Whisper (E)

Dolores moved as gracefully as a cat. Her feet fell like silent snow on the flowers as she led you away from the others.

You felt a twinge of reluctance leaving Camilo. Why can't he hear this, too?

Dolores suddenly stopped, deep in Isabella's room, and blinked at you expectantly.

You waited, feeling unnerved by her quiet omniscience. She knows everything.

"You have a question," Dolores finally prompted. Of course she'd know that.

"Right," you self-consciously cleared your throat. It felt redundant to ask. She already knew why you were here. "So, have you? Heard anything?"

Dolores leaned closer, secrecy shadowing her eyes. "I wanted to tell you alone. He is your father, not Camilo's."

"Oh. Thank you." You blushed. It was as if she had read your mind. A trickle of uneasiness rushed through you. This seems serious.

Dolores abruptly stated, "Camilo likes you very much."

"Wh-what? Really?"

"Right now he is embarrassed." Dolores informed you.

You felt uncomfortable, like you were spying on Camilo's mind. But you really, really wanted to know. "Why?"

"He said he loves you." Dolores told you this like a fact, not a question. "He is worried that he scared you."

"Aw, Camilo," You whispered to yourself.

"Right now he is asking his cousins for advice," Dolores sneakily continued. Her smile was quiet but mischievous. You felt a horrible curiosity to continue this intrusive conversation.

What did he say exactly? What advice are they telling him?

You squashed the invasive questions and didn't respond. A disappointed expression flitted over Dolores' features, as if she longed to disperse the tantalizing stories that only she knew and heard.

You should have known Dolores would be a chronic gossiper.

"About your father," Dolores sighed finally, realizing you weren't going to pry. "He writes. He is careful. But."

You held your breath. Any light she could shine on your father's suspicious situation would help.

"He comes in your room in the morning." Dolores' voice became low and dangerous.

A frosty shiver gripped you. "But he's just checking up on me, right? What else would he be doing?" You tried to justify your father. But nervously, you remembered mornings when you had woken up early to your father silently hovering over your bed.

"No." Dolores slowly shook her head. "He has a friend. They talk in secrets."

You wanted to impatiently scream. What does that even mean?

"I don't understand most of their conversation." She frowned and repeated, "He is careful." Dolores paused and continued. "Two days ago, they had a fight. It is hard to control your words in a fight. He made a mistake. And I heard it."

"Okay," You exhaled, struggling to stay calm. "I'm ready to hear it."

Dolores' eyes noiselessly swished around, as if ensuring the confidentiality of her words. "He told his friend that he needed to fix your memory before it was too late."

"What?" You gasped. You wanted to deny it. He would never. But a voice slithered into your mind. The festival of suns. Abuela. He remembered both.

"(Y/n), I think your father has a gift."