Worth The Shot

Jury's Out

Crime was rare in the Encanto.

Luisa's threatening presence discouraged thievery and violence. Isabella's Flower Farm supplied an abundance of fruits and vegetables. Why would anyone behave unlawfully?

I'm one of the first criminals, you miserably realized. Your chest pounded like a war drum under Alma's piercing stare. Please don't banish me. Please don't lock me up.

"In the presence of our Madrigal family, I commence this trial," Alma declared, regally straightening her back from the front of the courtyard. Exhausted from the sleepless night, you apprehensively ran your thumbs over your closed fists.

The Madrigal family composed the jury. Every member over the age of 15 received a jury seat, however Alma rarely consulted them for anything more than testifying. Today, the dull, gray cobblestones were eerily empty, filled only by Augustin, Felix, Mirabel, and Antonio. There are so few of them left, you realized with an unsettling jolt. Camilo isn't even here. Where is he?

You ripped your gaze away from the chair where Camilo should have sat. Would his warm hazel eyes have protected you or spitefully patronized you? I'm glad he's not here. I don't want to look at him right now. He hates me. He thinks I'm pathetic. I don't want him to see this.

Petty disputes over unfair trades often plagued the village, so Alma had promptly asserted herself as the judge to resolve disagreements. As customary, Dolores stood, head respectfully bowed, in Alma's shadow. Her gift supplied a reliable stream of information to help Alma judge fairly.

"(Y/n)," Alma sighed, brusquely clasping her hands together. "Have you been conspiring against the Madrigals? To steal our candle?"

"No," you truthfully denied, relieved to not have an incriminating answer. "I didn't even know of my father's plan until last night."

Alma's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Then why did you help him?"

"He swore he'd kill Antonio if I didn't."

A ripple of horrified murmurs rushed through the watching Madrigals. Mirabel gasped and held Antonio tighter on her lap. Because of your warning, Dolores had rushed him to the safety of his jungle room last night.

"I couldn't let him," you desperately continued, "so that's why I helped him. I-I backed out at the last moment. That's when the fireworks stopped, Dolores."

"I remember," Dolores nodded, confirming your story. She earnestly turned to Alma, defending you. "(Y/n) warned me to protect Antonio when my hearing returned. She hasn't done anything wrong. She wasn't even going to steal the candle."

"Hmm," Alma skeptically studied your face. She disapprovingly frowned at the bare seat that should have been occupied by the shapeshifter you hated. And missed.  "Where is Camilo? As the Madrigal who intercepted your crime, he is obliged to testify against you."

Dolores delicately tilted her head, as if focusing on a single, glossy soundwave. "He is in his room, and, oh-" her lips pursed sympathetically, concerned for her brother. Without explaining, she awkwardly coaxed, "We should leave him alone, Abuela. We already know everything."

Alma hesitated, but curtly nodded to Dolores. "Alright. I trust your judgement. (Y/n)," she finally addressed you. Nervous sweat heated on your hands. "Thank you for saving our Antonio. However, you should have told someone immediately when you suspected your father's treachery."

"I did tell someone! Camilo and Mirabel knew everything!"

"You are children, (y/n)." Alma sternly said. "You should have told an adult. I know you don't trust me, but you could have told Felix. Or Julieta."

How does she know I don't like her? You bashfully dropped your gaze to the uneven, rough stones by your feet. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should have told an adult."

"Thank you. All you have done is had poor judgement. Your only punishment will be helping Mirabel with her chores for two weeks." Alma calmly issued. Mirabel snickered at you, and you smiled with relief. That could have been a lot worse. I'm surprised she believed me.

"I understand you hurt your arm when you fell," Alma stoically dipped her head, acknowledging your arm that jutted out in an odd angle. "Julieta cannot help. But my mother was the healer of our village. May I take a look?"

"Yeah. I think I broke it," You winced as you gingerly stepped over to Alma, each step sending a shuddering wave of pain through your arm. I got lucky. I fell from pretty high up. I could have broken something much worse.

After a thoughtful moment of analyzing your arm, Alma quietly announced, "It's not broken. It's dislocated. Thankfully, I know how to put it back in place."

"Dislocated? Is that better or worse?" You painfully wondered aloud, gritting your teeth as Alma touched it. Concerned, Mirabel walked closer to see your injury, her hand closed around Antonio's.

"We will see."

With an unreadable expression, Felix abruptly interjected, "(Y/n), I have a question."

"Sure, just ask me now. After Senora Alma pops it back in, I probably won't be very coherent," you weakly tried to joke, nervous about Alma jolting your sore shoulder back to normal. Like everyone in the Encanto, you'd never had to endure lasting pain. A single bite from Julieta's cooking soothed any injury. How will the villagers survive without their healer? How bad will my pain be?

"You dislocated your arm when you fell, but," Felix uncharacteristically hesitated, folding his massive hands together. He empathetically brushed a hand against his own cheek, and with reluctant eyes, suddenly demanded,

"Where is the bruise from?"