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Chapter Text

The sun hung high in the sky over the quaint village of San Angel. Blinds from a small home attached to the bull ring opened.

“She’s late.” Said a surly old woman. She growled as she closed the blinds and went up the stairs.

”Jorge!” She called out. “Jorge Sanchez!”

She stopped her walk down the hall in front of one bedroom door and pushed it open. Jorge stood in front of his bed, hands behind his back, looking as innocent as a tall eight year old could with a wide smile on his face.

”Hola, Aunt Luisa.” he said

”Are you hiding her?” Aunt Luisa stormed in and opened the closet and both chests in the room. Jorge was confused.

“Hiding who?” He asked, letting his hands fall to his sides.

”Who else?” Luisa asked, quickly turning to him.

“… Ohhh, her.” Jorge commented, rolling his eye and rubbing his eyepatch.

“That niña needs to remember her punctuality. Society will never accept a late lady.” Luisa explained

Jorge sat down on his bed, carefully avoiding the sheet music under the blankets. He sighed and looked away.

“Aunt Luisa, she doesn’t like your lessons.” He admitted, knowing how this conversation will end.

”Si, and you don’t like bullfighting. Those are two jokes I never get tired of hearing. Hilarious!” Luisa commented with a smile

The truth was right there. Neither Sanchez child liked their roles and would switch in a heartbeat. Luisa gave him a stern look.

“Get up, she might be under your bed.” She said. Jorge quickly stood. Luisa lift the entire bed, frame and all, and thankfully the music stayed hidden. Jorge want to the window to watch his tia, humming a melody as she searched. She muttered to herself trying to think of where that girl had gone. Not on the first floor of the house, not in any closet, not under Jorge’s bed…

”Pssst!”

”Huh?” Jorge was pulled from his fantasy of being on a stage. Aunt Luisa had moved on to his sisters bed, choosing to crawl under it and not pick it up. Strange woman…

”PSSST!”

The sound was coming from outside. But the room was on the second floor. Jorge turned to look. People below milled about and walked along the street, birds sat on rooftops nearby, a girl was scaling the wall towards hi- wait what?!

Jorge did a double take. He was’t hallucinating, there was a small girl climbing up to his shared room.

“Get rid of Aunt Luisa!” She whispered harshly. Jorge spun around quickly.

”Tia, I think I remember something!” Jorge said to get her attention, “She… Uh she was… going to the market! Yes, the market. She needed fruit. Lots of fruit.” He hurried over to Luisa and helped her up, quickly pushing her towards the door.

”The market?! That little- Ay, what if she starts another fight?!” The old woman moaned

”Exactly why you should hurry! I’ll wait here in case she comes home!” Jorge insisted. After more pushing, the door finally shut behind his aunt, and Jorge rested his head upon it. Behind him, his older and shorter sister finally climbed onto their windowsill.

“I needed fruit?” She quietly asked with a laugh

Jorge held up a finger to silence her. He finally breathed when they heard the front door slam shut downstairs.

”Heh, that was close, huh Jorge?” She said stepped into their room and walked to her bed, pulling straw out of her messy hair. Jorge inhaled deeply and slowly turned. He went to the window.

”Oh, Anita Sanchez,” he put his hands on the blinds to close them, “Aunt Luisa may be gone,” shut, “but you are still in SO MUCH TROUBLE!” He yelled, turning around. Anita screamed and jumped off her bed. Jorge chased after her all around their room. Jorge vaulted off of his bed and tackled Anita to the ground, ending up sitting on her.

“Get your big butt off! Jorge!” Anita struggled

”Aunt Luisa almost found my music and you were climbing a building?! Nita!” Jorge yelled

”Jorge!”

“Nita!”

”Jorge! You know how much I hate the lessons!” Anita said, finally wriggling herself free.

”I know! But what were you thinking? You could have fallen and died!” Jorge stood and sat on his bed.

“You don’t have to keep worrying about me. I can handle myself. I’m the older one!” Anita reminded him as she stood in front of him. She sat down next to him, rubbing her right hand.

“You may be older, but I’m more responsible, and mature. It’s my job. I’m your brother, and we have to stick together. It’s just the two of us.” Jorge said. Anita hung her head.

Their father, Carmelo Sanchez, died in the bullring before Jorge was born. Anita was five years old at the time. And their mother, she died giving birth to Jorge.

But they still live in Casa Sanchez, the home their father built.

After an moment of silence, Jorge walked over to Anita and pushed her hair out of her face. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and gently placed a hand on her hands.

”Come on. We need to get you cleaned up before Aunt Luisa comes home.” He said

While Anita stood, Jorge opened the chest at the foot of of Anita’s bed. He pushed through the different outfits.

“Hm, this one. Long sleeves, good color, nice form on it, too.” Jorge said pulling out a dark blue dress.

”Ugh, I hate it.” Anita cringed at the look of it.

”Then it’s perfect. Come on.” Jorge grumbled, grabbing Anita’s hand and taking her across the hall to the washroom. 

The dress was draped over the edge of the tub, Anita was sat in front of it, and the door was closed. Jorge took a hand towel and dipped it into the basin of water. He sat across from Anita and pushed her hair out of her face again. He noticed her rubbing her right hand.

“Is your hand hurt?” He asked

“Maybe. I think I landed on it wrong.” Anita said, not looking him in the eye.

“Landed? Nita, what happened to you?” Jorge asked, rubbing the towel over her arm.

“… I may have… Gotten into a fight… Again.” She admitted. Jorge sighed

“Again? Nita, what am I going to do with you?” He asked

Anita immediately perked up and opened her mouth to speak.

“No.” Jorge said quickly

“You didn’t even give me a chance to sa-” Anita started

“No.” Jorge said quickly

“Let me speak, little brother!” Anita said loudly

“… Fine.” Jorge said

“Youcouldalwaysteachmebullfighting!” Anita said

“No.” Jorge replied

“For God’s sake.” Anita sighed, “I’m the older one, I should have had some kind of training since I’ve grown up watching every one of papas corridas. But you’re so tall, you look thirteen. Aunt Luisa is shoving you in the spotlight, while I’m stuck getting pampered and primped.”

“Close your mouth.” Jorge said, rubbing Anita’s forehead, “Anita, you are a little girl. A bull could squish you with just one hoof. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you’re hurt. Besides, fighting bulls takes a lot of training, and just that is dangerous enough. Remember, when I was four, Aunt Luisa tossed me in the ring with just a cape, a sword, and a ‘Good luck niño! Don’t die!’ Remember that? And since then my eye... Bullfighting is savage and brutal.”

Anita put a hand on his cheek, just below his eyepatch. She looked saddened, but he could still see a spark in her eyes. She wanted to fight bulls, no matter what he would ever say to her. And no matter how hard Aunt Luisa tried to stop her.

Jorge stood and wrung out the towel in the sink, picking up the brush as he went back to Anita.

“Aunt Luisa wants me to be a proper lady, and that’s not something I want. You liked wearing my dresses more than me, and I know I would look good in a suit of lights. I know you’re scared for me, but I just have to be a matador. I feel it. It’s in my blood.” Anita explained, turning around. She flinched when the brush pulled through a knot.

“Who were you fighting? How did this start?” Jorge asked

If he was changing the subject, he was getting uncomfortable. Anita sighed.

“I really was in the market. Then I saw that stupid Orli Espinosa. He said something, so I threw an apple at him. He hit me, I punched him, he kicked me, I bit him-AY!” The brush stopped at a really big knot.

“You bit him?” Jorge said, “What did he say?” Anita was quiet for a moment. Jorge pulled the brush through the knot, eliciting a yelp.

“He was insulting papa.” Anita admitted. “I couldn’t let him. I know you hate his bullfighting style, but he should always be remembered happily. But I know you and Aunt Luisa don’t like it when I fight.”

“No. If somebody insults our family, they deserve what’s coming to them. Just don’t let Aunt Luisa catch you.” Jorge said

“Thanks Jorge.” Anita said. Jorge wrapped his arms around her hugging her from behind. He sighed lightly.

“I’m sorry about the fight. I know you like Orli. And his sister.” Anita said

“Si, but I care more about my sister anyway.” Jorge said

They froze when they heard the front door slam close.

“Jorge! Did Anita come home yet?” Yelled Aunt Luisa

“We’re dead.” The children said in unison

Aunt Luisa climbed back up the stairs. Her hand hovered over their bedroom door when she heard a noise from the washroom. Jorge suddenly emerged, closing the door behind him.

“Aunt Luisa!” He said, wearing that wide grin from earlier.

“Did Anita come home yet?” She asked, “I couldn’t find her at the market.”

“Did I say market? Ay, estupido!” Jorge spun Aunt Luisa around and walked her away from the washroom. “I meant to say… Buying a… Carpet?” Aunt Luisa was unamused and unconvinced.

“You’re lying. Where is she?” She asked

“I’m here.” Anita said, coming from the washroom. The dark blue dress had a white fringe around the collar. The long sleeves had white trim, and covered up the scratches she had gotten from her fight. The dress was tight and uncomfortable, but Aunt Luisa smiled at the sight.

“Mija! You’re so beautiful! But you’re still late. Come with me.” Aunt Luisa roughly grabbed Anita’s right hand, not noticing her wince at the pain.

Chapter Text

“You can’t catch me!” Jorge yelled behind him. His sister was after him as the two ran through town. Anita swore and cursed her brothers long legs, but hurried herself to catch up.

”Yes I can!” She yelled back

She stopped and took a sharp turn down an alley, climbing up the crates stacked against the wall.

Jorge slowed his pace when he noticed Anita wasn’t behind him anymore. He chuckled, happy to be blessed with tallness.

“Nita!” He yelled, “I’ll see you at the square!”

“Not before me!” She yelled from the rooftop.

She jumped and slid along the various roofs. Jorge panicked and continued running. Anita managed to keep up with him from the high ground she had.

Many times had she snuck out to this level, being herself and flying over the streets and roads that rarely noticed her. She was in her element, and no matter how hard he could try, Jorge was going to lose.

She jumped off the edge and ricocheted off of an outstretched awning. She rolled through the air, turning herself around to land on her feet. She braced her footing and Jorge, who was unable to stop, collided with her. The two laughed and rolled across the ground.

They finally had ended their chase in the town square.

“How did you do that?” He asked

“You may have the size, but I have the skill.” Anita said, pulling herself up

A trumpet sounded, along with the drumming of hoofbeats on the cobblestone. They were coming quickly. Anita saw them approaching down one street.

“Jorge.” She said, patting his arm.

“I’m tired, Nita. I’m just gonna lie here.” He moaned, closing his eye.

“Jorge!” She yelled, grabbing him and pulling him up.

He gasped and clung to her as horses trod over his spot on the ground.

The cavalcade stopped.

It was a platoon from the army, wearing their shining armor, carrying their flags proudly. The leader lifted his helmet slightly to look down at the children. He seemed to be equally annoyed and amused.

Jorge was fascinated by their colors and outfits, such beautiful men, armor, and men in armor. From Spain! Spain! Everything beautiful comes from Spain!

“Boy, take your young sister home.” The leader said

“Oye! I’m the older one here. And you almost killed him!” Anita said, taking a step in front of Jorge.

She never liked any soldier. The army had been trying to buy the arena from the Sanchezes ever since Carmelo died. Aunt Luisa had come to help manage it with their mother. After her death, it was just Aunt Luisa. But on top of that, the soldado’s had a habit of being pretentious and rude to the people of San Angel. Thinking their better than the townspeople they were sent to protect.

The soldier dismounted and knelt down to their level.

“Well if this is true, why doesn’t he say so, instead of you?” He asked, “Is your brother a sister?”

“He’s more of a man than a pig like you.” Anita said. She grabbed Jorge’s hand, and the soldier grabbed her other one.

“Now that wasn’t a nice thing to say. You should apologize.” He said. The men on their horses chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“Why? You should first.” Anita said, trying to pull her hand away.

“Anita, please.” Jorge said

“No, he could have killed you. He needs to at least apologize for that first!” Anita said. She let go of his hand to push against the soldier’s.

“Oh please. Not gonna work. May as well just say it.” The soldier said, unfazed by Anita’s struggling. There was the sound of a sword being unsheathed, the soldiers all gasped. The leader looked and saw Jorge, aiming his own sword at him.

“Well? You heard her.” He said

“Heh, think you can do it kid? Think you can actually kill?” The leader asked, unamused.

“Sir?” One of his men said. He waved the man off, curious to see where this goes.

“Let Anita go.” Jorge said firmly. The leader chuckled and released his grip. Anita fell to the ground, to the amusement of the soldiers. Theirs leader climbed off his horses, looking down at Jorge.

“You have spirit, niño. Tonight, we’ll be returning to Spain. If you can make it to the end of the bridge by midnight, you can join us.” He said

Jorge was surprised. So surprised, he didn’t even notice when the man took his sword out of his hands. He smiled and watched the leader mount his horse, leading his men out of the square. Anita shook her head and punched him in the shoulder.

“What was that?” She asked

“Ay! What?” Jorge asked with a a shrug.

“You know, papa liked some pretty things. He had a big heart. But he never liked something so pretty, he ran away for it.” Anita walked around Jorge, “You’re too young to leave. We need you here, Jorge.”

“What are you talking about?” Jorge asked. Anita bit her lower lip. Perhaps she should tell him.

“You technically are the man of the house. Because of that, Aunt Luisa uses you as an excuse not to sell the arena, so long as a Sanchez bullfighter is in charge.” She explained

“But I’d rather sing than be a bullfighter.” Jorge said

“Me too. I want you to live out your dream and be happy, and I wish to be a bullfighter, but face the facts Jorge. Music is not work fit for a Sanchez bullfighter.” Anita covered her mouth. How could she say that to her little brother?

She took off.

“Nita!” Jorge yelled

He couldn’t keep up with her. Perhaps it was for the best. He slowed his pace to a walk, thinking things over.

Anita prefered her thinking in a faster pace. Her words kept circling through her heads, along with her desire to be a matador. She stopped letting another platoon go past.

A traveling act from Spain had visited them years ago, that’s where Jorge learned about the opera. If he went to Spain, he could live his dream. But she would lose the arena, the one tie she had left of papa. How could she allow him to be forgotten?

As soon as the platoon passed by, she continued her run. She pushed open the door of Casa Sanchez, nearly collapsing on the ground in the process.

“Anita. Where is Jorge?” Aunt Luisa asked, brushing off the girl and straightening her posture.

“He’s coming.” She said

“That is not answering my question.” Aunt Luisa lifted Anita’s chin to look her in the eye.

Anita looked past Aunt Luisa, seeing a fine dressed señor sitting at their kitchen table, tapping his thumbs together on the counter.

“What’s happening here?” She asked

“Business. We are discussing business. And Jorge needs to at least be present.” Aunt Luisa said

“Go play with dolls while the adults talk.” The señor said. Anita didn’t like this man.

“Si. Of course.” She said through clenched teeth, running up the stairs.

“Forgive my niece. I am trying to make her a proper lady.” Aunt Luisa said

“Trying.” The señor laughed. Aunt Luisa did not like this man either.

Jorge soon walked in. He looked from Aunt Luisa to the señor.

“Am I in trouble?” He asked

Chapter Text

Nobody knew Anita’s secret spot, not even Jorge. It wasn’t much of a secret though. It was actually a bit of a surprise nobody had figured it out just yet.

It was a spot on the roof. The only access was through a small door in the attic. Anita found it when she tripped on a stool and looked up.

It gave her an amazing view of all of San Angel. And when the sunset hit it just right, the entire town sparkled like diamonds.

“Anita!” Came Aunt Luisa’s voice from inside.

It also gave Anita a safe place away from Aunt Luisa. She would never find her up here. She thinks the attic door is locked. But she doesn’t know where that darn key went.

Jorge checked in their room. A page from his music was on the floor. It was a song that even Nita liked to sing, even if she didn’t like to sing like him. It was their song, in a way. He looked out the window, and down. After what happened the other day, he half expected to see her climbing up the wall again.

He did see something odd.

The shadow of their home, pressed against the opposite building, it seemed to have something on top of it. Something that didn’t belong.

He left his room and went upstairs to the attic door. It shouldn’t have surprised him to find the door unlocked, but it was always locked. The room was dark and dusty. Light seeped through a single circular window.

Jorge was careful in his footsteps. If he stepped on some creaky wood, he didn’t want Aunt Luisa to hear. He looked up and covered his mouth to muffle his shriek. Being face to face with a mounted bull head would do that to a person. Below it was a small plaque reading “Toro Número 1”. Jorge figured it was the first bull Carmelo killed. Behind it were medals and ribbons of honor, and a portrait of Carmelo standing overs his bull. So young, but with a pose Anita pulled often. 

Hanging over it was a rack of bull ears, with dates marked above them. They were of varying sizes and colors. All of the bulls he had slain. He wondered why none of this was in the arena somewhere. Maybe people were tired of dusty ears on display.

There was another portrait behind Carmelo and his first bull.

Jorge pulled the first painting forward, and sighed sadly at the second. He picked it up and found a stool sitting below a wooden door in the ceiling. Jorge pushed it up and climbed up onto the roof where he found Anita sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest.

“You shouldn’t want to talk to me. I’ve already said too much.” She said

“It’s okay.” Jorge said, holding the portrait out.

It was a family portrait. Carmelo was holding a smiling Anita, who had a tooth missing. There mother smiled next to them, stroking her large belly. Anita smiled and rubbed at the tears in her eyes. She gingerly touched the markings that painted her smile, stopping over the gap.

“That was when I ran to see papa after a match. I was so excited, I didn’t look where I was going. I got my feet tangled in his cape, fell on my face, lost my tooth in the middle of the arena. Papa said my blood blended in so well with the bulls.” Anita said, smiling through the sadness, “You know, Mama, she wasn’t fond of the fighting either, and kept wishing for a way to fight the bull without killing it in the end. I loved watching him though. The fun and suspense, it’s almost as good as any opera.”

“I doubt that.” Jorge chuckled. Anita looked coldly at him, and he stopped. “When was this done?”

“About a month before you were born, and a few weeks before…” Anita didn’t want to finish it. After seven years, you’d think you’d be over something like this, but not Anita. “When Aunt Luisa moved in, she said to put this away. Too many sad memories with it.” She sat the portrait down next to her.

“Oh.” Jorge said

The two sat in silence. Birds flew, people wandered about below, and if one looked close enough, one would spot the soldiers shining armor walking through the streets. The two Sanchezes weren’t looking for anything. Just looking out upon their town, lost in thought. What would happen next?

“I know now what you meant, about me being the man of the house. About how you need me,” Jorge started, “That man Aunt Luisa was talking to, he offered a lot of money, almost enough to build a new arena.”

“No.” Anita said

“I’m not done.” Jorge said, “It was a lot of money, but I had to refuse. Even if I’m not fighting bulls yet, I still am a Sanchez bullfighter, and my word is law in the Sanchez bullring.”

“Spoken like a true Sanchez.” Anita said. “Papa would have been proud.”

“Proud of me giving up my dream.” Jorge sighed

“Maybe you can be the singing matador?” Anita suggested

“Would you want to watch a singing matador?” Jorge asked, raising an eyebrow. Well, he had her there. They sat in silence once more. Anita closed her eyes and chuckled.

“What?” Jorge asked. His sister smiled at him.

“Hey brother!” She sang, “There’s an endless road to rediscover.” Jorge smiled back. She always knew how to make him smile. “Come ooon.”

“Hey sister!” He sang back, “Know the water’s sweet but blood is thicker.”

“Oh, if the sky comes falling down,” Anita stood up and helped Jorge to his feet, “for you.”

“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” They sang in unison, spinning around on the rooftop. Anita stopped with Jorge standing on the edge. He felt nervous, but trusted Anita.

“Hey brother!” She let him fall into a  large pile of hay. “Do you still believe in one another?”

“Hey sister!” Jorge climbed out, taking straw out of his hair, “Do you still believe in love, I wonder.”

“Oh,” they sang together as Anita jumped off the roof into the hay, “if the sky comes falling down, for you,” Anita scrambled out to stand next to her brother, “there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.”

Jorge ran down a street, out of sight, but not far off.

“What if I’m far from home?” He sang. Anita ran after him.

“Oh brother, I will hear you call!” She sang back, “What if I lose it all?” She stopped and put a hand over her heart.

“Oh sister, I will help you out!” Jorge sang, coming up behind her.

“Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you.” Anita turned around and smiled at him. He still had hay sticking out of his hair.

“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” They both hugged each other.

Anita pushed against Jorge’s chest and ran off, taking a lap around the arena. Laughing along, Jorge followed her. They both took a sharp turn and ran through the halls. They ducked into the stables, their horses lifting their heads to watch them run through. They ran past the corral where the next bull was waiting. It snorted at them as they ran past them and into the building.

They stopped in their chapel and knelt before the picture of their father. They crossed themselves and bowed their heads. Anita quickly messed up Jorge’s curly hair when he wasn’t paying attention. He laughed and pushed her away. She stood and went to the cape that hung on the wall.

“Hey brother,” Anita sang, grabbing the cape, “There’s an endless road to rediscover.”

“Hey sister,” Jorge ran a hand along one of the blades that hung below their father’s portrait, “do you still believe in love, I wonder.”

“Oh, if the sky comes falling down,” they linked arms and walked through the halls, “for you,” they entered the arena, “there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” They let go of each other and walked across the arena. Anita stopped and held the cape out. Jorge ran toward it.

“What if I’m far from home?” He sang

“Oh brother, I will hear you call!” Anita expertly dodged it, flourishing the red cape like waving a skirt, “What if I lose it all?”

“Oh sister, I will help you out!” Jorge turned around and tried again. Anita waved the cape, and he followed it, swish by swish. It was as if they were having a graceful dance.

“Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you,” Anita stopped and pulled the cape away, grabbing Jorge’s arm. She stopped him from running into the wooden wall.

“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” She pulled Jorge close to face him. The children laughed and pulled at the ends of the cape, having a tug of war over it. Jorge laughed when he won. Anita smiled and started dancing around him.

She spun around lifting the edges of her skirt. Jorge mimicked her movements with the cape, much to Anita’s amusement. She laughed as he danced around her like that. She grabbed Jorge’s hands and dragged him around the arena, skipping. They linked arms again the dance in a small circle. They grabbed each other’s hands spun around in a circle until their song had ended. 

There was no music playing, just the one they listened to in their heads. No mariachi band could compare.

They ended their “dance” lying across from each other on the ground, dizzy and out of breath, but completely and utterly happy. This was something they both needed.

“Those were some good moves, with the cape.” Jorge said

“I learned from watching you training, and Papa, too. He didn’t like fighting with a cape though. That’s what he was famous for. ” Anita sat up, “Capes are for cowards!” She mimicked the gruff grumpy sound of his voice. Jorge laughed. He put his hands together, looking up at the sky.

“What do you think… He would say about me?” He asked. Anita layed back down in thought, holding her hands like her brother.

“Be a Sanchez. Bullfighting is in our blood, no matter how much we can fight it.” She said, but she knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“I feel like I’m torn between what I want to do and what I need to do.” Jorge explained

“Listen.” Anita stood up over Jorge, helping block the sun out, “You know what life is like here. Why we need you. But I no now you feel like you need to go to Spain, too. Whatever you decide… I don’t care. Just do it for you. Okay?” She held out and and helped Jorge to his feet.

“Come on. I want to hang our family portrait in our room.” Anita said

Chapter Text

The sun was shining and the crowds were cheering. The people loved to watch the Amazing Carmelo Sanchez. Within the stands, a pregnant mother began fixing a girl’s hair.

“Mama, I look fine!” The girl said, pulling away.

“Anita Sanchez, you know we must always look presentable for your father’s corrida!” The mother was quick, slicking her hair back and tying it off with a bow.

“Mamaaaa!” Anita whined

“You want to look nice for your papa, right?” Her mother retorted.

“Si.” Anita sighed. She hadn’t wished her father good luck yet. She always does before a match. Maybe she could get away, but she was too late. The band came out, followed by Carmelo.

“Papa!” Anita said, smiling at him. She pulled away from her mother and ran down to the front bars that separated the spectators from the inner ring. Her mother followed at a slower pace, taking the stairs, instead of climbing over seats and through crowds like Anita. As soon as Carmelo saw her, he ran towards the bars. 

“Mi niña! Where is your mama?” He asked, reaching up. Anita took his hand, pressing it on her cheek. She loved his rough hands.

“She’s coming. I just wanted to say hola before your corrida, papa. Good luck, too!” She explained

“Maybe you will learn a few things, too.” Carmelo responded

"Perdone me? She is not fighting bulls!” Her mother said, finally arriving. 

“It is tradition! Our family tradition!” Carmelo argued

”Your family tradition.“ Her mother said, crossing her arms. “Besides, you should really be using your cape.”

“Why? It’s more fun without!” Carmelo chuckled, dropping the cape. 

"Yeah, more fun!” Anita said. Carmelo turned around when the trumpets started to blare. He quickly ruffled his daughter hair before running to the center of the ring. All eyes were on him.

“Today, I dedicate this corrida, as all of them, to mi amor Sandra, and mi bonita pequenita bebita Anita!” The crowds cheered, drums cascading as they applauded.

“Go papa!” Anita cheered. She loved watching him fight. His moves were smooth and confident, like he could face thousands of bulls at once. Without their mother knowing, Carmelo even taught Anita a few moves, too. 

He loved her so much, pampering and catering to her every need. He hoped he could have another girl to love, too. But a lot were saying Anita would be having a little brother. A lot more were hoping the child would have inherited their fathers height, unlike Anita.

Carmelo glanced behind him to spit on his dropped cape. Across the arena, the gate for the great beast opened. Carmelo smirked at his little girl.

“Daddy’s gonna get the big bad bull.” He said. Anita leaned between the bars to wave at him. Sandra put a hand on her shoulder to pull her back in.

He dodged the beast when it first charged. Everyone cheered. The bull rushed to him. He grabbed its horns and forced its head to the ground. He almost lifted it as Carmelo moved it to run past him into the wall. Easy.

“You can do it papa! Like always!” Anita cheered, standing on her toes with her head poking through the bars again.

“Don’t do that!” Her mother said suddenly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Everything happened so fast. Anita was surprised, her foot slipped as she turned, she toppled through the bars into the ring before her mother could tighten her grip. Carmelo was shocked. The small girl rubbed her head. She saw her father running toward her.

With the bull on his heels.

“Papa!” she yelled, ducking behind one of the walls the musicians usually hid behind.

Carmelo turned. The bull was charging faster than anything he had ever seen. He dodged to the right, feeling something sharp impale his left lung. The bull charge forward until the horns broke through the wall Anita hid behind. He heard his daughter scream. Everyone in the crowd was screaming.

Carmelo gasped and coughed, blood spewing from his mouth. Anita was screaming for him. He grabbed the bulls horns, pulled them out, and pushed him down. He pulled his sword out to stab it through to the neck. 

There was no spectacle here. Just horror. Anita came out from behind the wall shocked at the sight off her father. Carmelo glanced at Anita. He stood and fell backwards.

Anita moved forward, but was grabbed by her mother from above. She struggled and clawed at her hand, before biting her wrist. She let go of her, shaking off the pain. Anita ran to her fallen father.

She felt him touch her face and pull her down to kiss her forehead.

“Mi niña… I see… White handkerchiefs… Like flags waving everywhere… It’s beautiful…” He said

“Papa.” Anita started, holding back tears.

“Niña, you are Sanchez. Be a Sanchez. Your future hermano, too…” The child reached down to hold his hand. “Fight bulls… Be brave… Never apologize… for yourself. Live life… And… Never… Forget…… Your familia.”

She blamed herself. Of course she blamed herself. Any five year old would, witnessing your own father’s death.

Rough hands from behind grabbed her, pulling her away, kicking and screaming. How could they not understand? She had to be with papa! He’ll survive this! He always does!

Anita gasped and opened her eyes. She sat up in her bed, panting, a cold sweat dripping off of her. She rubbed her eyes, glancing up at the portrait above her.

“I’m sorry papa.” She whispered, “No, no, I shouldn’t apologize for myself.”

Across the room, Jorge was sleeping peacefully. Anita sighed and rubbed her forehead. 

He says he’s the mature one, just because he’s tall and likes opera and thinks he’s so sophisticated. Jorge has no idea how much Anita had been through. How much she holds back, and holds in. He was a good listener though. Wise beyond his years.

“Jorge, are you awake?” She whispered, knowing he was probably dreaming of then opera again. “I had a nightmare. It was about that day, again. When papa died. I hate it so much. And I hate that bull even more.” She was met only by silence. “I wish papa was here. I miss him. I miss his hands, his laugh, and how he trained me with my bull. Hey, where’s,” she trailed off, opening the chest at the foot of her bed. 

She pulled out a toy bull, sewn by her mother with big black button eyes and stuffed with sheeps wool. Her papa told her that when she first got it, she ripped an ear off and held it out to him. It was then he knew she would be a bullfighter, even if her mother denied him the honor of officially training her.

Anita stroked its one eared head. Aunt Luisa wanted to throw it out, but she hid it in her trunk. She hid a lot of things in it. But forgot most of them.

“What did I call you?” Anita whispered, trying to remember the name. “Oh, Pepe.” She closed the chest and climbed back into her bed with Pepe, running her fingers over the spot where his right ear once was. 

“Sorry if my talking disturbed you.” Anita commented to her brother. She Rolled over onto her side with her doll to close her eyes.

Suddenly, she sat back up and looked at Jorge’s bed. He was quiet. Too quiet. He had a habit of sleep singing or humming. She left Pepe and walked to her brothers bed.

“Jorge?” She asked, gently pushing at the bundled covers. She grabbed the sheets at the foot of the bed and pulled them off. 

She wished she was still dreaming. Pillows were in place of her brother. Jorge was gone.

“No. No!” She said loudly

She didn’t care about what she was wearing now. She ran outside to their stables. One of their horses was gone. Anita didn’t bother with a saddle, she opened the gate to her horse. She pushed and pulled at his side to wake him up. As soon as he stood, she climbed onto his back.

“Come on Chamuco! We need to find Jorge!” She said. “Hyah!”

The horse reared with Anita clinging to his mane for dear life. 

There was a reason behind his name. The horse ran quickly like fire and brimstone burned behind him. Anita knew which turns to take, she knew where Jorge was. 

The clip clopping of hooves on stone woke some families up, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was for Anita to find her brother and make him stay and keep their fathers legacy alive.

“Well well well, I honestly didn’t expect to see you.” The leader of the platoon said as Jorge trotted forward on his horse.

“I’m needed here, but… I need Spain. I need it, with all my heart.” Jorge said. He glanced behind him. He heard something.

“If we all are here, then let’s move out men!” The leader said, his horse neighing in agreement.

“Come on boy, come on!” Anita urged him faster. They turned. Chamuco reared suddenly, tossing Anita off of him. Crates were blocking their path through the alley. Anita groaned, sore and tired, but not giving up. Not now.

“Wait here boy.” She said to Chamuco, rubbing his muzzle. She climbed up and over the crates, continuing her chase on foot. She had to make it in time. They needed Jorge.

A mass of dark figures were on the other end of the bridge. She was almost there! She slipped on the wood and fell forward, her face hitting the wood boards. She yelled and held her nose, feeling a warm liquid dripping from it, the dark mass was retreating, becoming smaller by the second.

“No!” She yelled, reaching out to it, “JORGE!" 

She was too late.

Jorge had run away.

She started to cry, out of anger and sadness. She banged her fists on the wooden boards. She hoped they would break for her.

”Hey, brother,“ she sang softly, ”there’s an endless road to rediscover.“

Chapter Text

Chamuco backed away, startled by the sound of scurrying coming from the crates he waited by. Rats? He hated rats!

“It’s okay boy.” Anita said, crawling to the top before jumping down.

Chamuco nudged her with his nose after she landed. She was upset and looked like she was crying. There was dried up bloody below her nose that she rubbed away. Anita ran her fingers through his mane. 

“Let’s go home boy. Jorge… He’s gone.” She said

She walked forward, Chamuco followed behind. A cold breeze swept through the street, making Anita rub at her arms.

This was her fault. She shouldn’t have apologized. That just opened the door and told Jorge it was okay to leave them all behind to pursue a dream that he might not even succeed in. It was okay to abandon your family.

What was going to happen to Aunt Luisa and Anita now? How were they going to defend the arena from buyers with no Sanchez bullfighter? Who will Anita be left with being stuck alone with Aunt Luisa?!

“Señorita Sanchez.” Came a voice. A lit lantern came with it.

It was the same señor from earlier. The one who wanted to buy the arena. Anita stopped walking and clenched her fists. She was not in the mood for this.

“If you dare touch me, you’ll lose your hands, señor.” She threatened with a growl.

“No worries then. I was just curious.” The señor walked closer, “Upon my waking up, I heard hoofbeats of a horse. When I looked out to yell at whoever was making that noise, I swear I saw your brother, Jorge, riding alone.” The señor circled around Anita. Like a vulture waiting to see if it’s prey still had some fight in it, or if it’ll be easy pickings.

“Where was that boy going? If your arena has no Sanchez bullfighter living in it, then it’s not owned by the Sanchez family.” The señor said

“He’s coming back.” Anita said coldly. The man stopped.

“Is that so?” He asked

“During a late night practice, he killed the bull that should have been spared. He needed to go to the ranch and have them bring a new one.” Anita said

“As far as I know, the ranch for the bulls is at the edge of town. Not in the direction he rode in. If he’s not going to your ranch, then where might he be heading?” The señor walked closer

“He’s coming back.” Anita said

Anger radiated around Her. Anyone who knew her would know she was her most dangerous in times like this. This señor had no idea what he was in for. He must also not know just how easy it would be to hide a body in the surrounding desert. Or chop it up and feed it to the hogs. Luckily, he must have picked up on something. The señor backed away towards the door of his home.

“… Then when he returns, I will apologize for this exchange.” He said, “Until then, a little girl like you needs to head home. Practice your knitting, or practice something.”

Anita held in her scream as he back into his home.

“I’ll go home and practice. You’ll see.” Anita grumbled as she climbed onto Chamucos back to head back home. But not to their house. Anita brought Chamuco back to his stable and grabbed an empty feed bucket.

The bull in his corral was sleeping. Anita began banging the bucket on the metal bars that separated her from him.

“Oye! Wake up! Come on!” She yelled, giving the bull a rude awakening. “Wake up, toro! I know you can hear me.” The bull moaned and stood up. It snorted and stomped its hooves. “Angry yet? Awake yet? Wake up!” Anita banged the bucket on the bars again. “Come on!”

Anita reached through the bars and grabbed one of the bulls horns, pulling it to the bar. The bull fought back by shaking it’s head. It was getting annoyed. Good. Anita let go. It backed up in the corral before slamming both horns into the bars.

“Aw, mad toro? Do you want to see me dead?” Anita said, standing firm against the animal’s threats, “The feeling is mutual. Get yourself ready.”

She left the bull to get herself ready, stopping in their chapel. Anita lit the candles that surrounded the statues of Mary. She knelt before it and said a prayer. After she crossed herself, she stood.

Anita never noticed just how angry and stern the portrait of her father was. That wasn’t him. It made Anita feel uncomfortable under his glare. Especially considering just what she was doing. She took the sword and cape hanging below it.

“Papa, I’m about to do something crazy.” She said, “So, if you can help make sure I don’t die, that would be perfect.”

Anita steeled her nerves and walked a path she walked before, through the halls and into the arena. The moon shined brightly above her, helping illuminate the empty stands. But she could hear the cheers. Everyone in town comes to see the bullfights. Whether the fighter was a Sanchez or not.

“I would like to dedicate this corrida to mi papa, the amazing Carmelo Sanchez.” Anita announced to the empty crowd. “I would also have liked to dedicate this to mi hermanito Jorge, but unfortunately, he stabbed me in the back! He left to follow his dream, but he left me trapped here! We were supposed to look out for each other, and he… He left me behind. My little brother.”

Upon hearing her voice, the bull began smashing his horns into the corral door. It wanted its revenge. 

It was time.

“I can do this.” Anita whispered

She unlatched the door to the corral and ran into the center of the ring. The door burst open with the bull running out. It saw the target of his frustration. It circled around Anita, staying on the outskirts of the ring, waiting for the right moment to strike. Anita closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

“Oh, Death,” she sang, “оh Death, oh Death,” she waved her cape at her side, “Won’t you spare me over til another year." 

The bull charged. Anita was nearly knocked over by the force that blew past her. She held her cape in front her, drawing her sword behind it. The bull charged once more, Anita stayed in front of it, just out of reach, swinging her cape and sword in its face.

”But what is this, that I can’t see, with ice cold hands taking hold of me.“ The bull roared and shook it’s head. Its face was sliced up, but it could still see. It charged once more. Anita held her sword out to the side when the bull ran by.

”When God is gone and the Devil takes hold, who will have mercy on your soul.“ The sword cut into the bulls side from end to end. It was weakening, limping. But the determination to survive was felt by both parties, and neither were going to give up easily.

”Oh, Death, оh Death, oh Death,“ Anita held out her cape and sword, but the bull got smart. After she dodged its charge, it spun around quickly, ”No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold,“ she dropped her cape and sword and grabbed its horns, doing everything in her power to hold her footing. ”Nothing satisfies me but your soul.“ 

She felt the bull pushing her, its hot breath burning her nose. She gasped when she felt the wooden wall hit her back. The bull tried shaking her off, but she held firm,

”Oh, Death,“ Anita closed her eyes for just a moment, focusing, ”Well I am Death, none can excel,“ she lifted herself up onto the bull with its horns and jumped up over it’s head, ”I’ll open the door to heaven or hell.“ Anita forced the bulls head to the ground, knocking it over. She climbed over the struggling beast to her sword and cape.

”Oh, Death,“ the bull managed to get back on its feet to run at Anita while her back was turned, ”оh Death,“ she turned around holding her sword out. The bull impaled itself on it and fell, skidding across the ground. Anita stood over the dead bull, covered in blood, panting from exhaustion.

”My name is Death and the end is here.“ She sang

She went to the front of it and pulled her sword from the beasts skull. She raised it and stabbed it in the side. She pulled her sword out and did it again, and again, and again and again and again, getting faster.

Anita yelled out in fear, and anger, and sadness before stabbing it one last time. She backed away, looking down at her work. She was almost impressed with herself over how well this went. But the bull was tired. Anita may have gotten lucky the moon shine over her, casting her shadow in front of the slain beast.

For a moment, briefly, she swore her shadow had wings. Raggedy large wings. Anita spun around. Nothing could have cast that shadow.

But what was that smell? A flowery scented wafted through the air. 

Marigolds?

Was someone watching her?

Chapter Text

Anita drew the sword from the beast. It was after she wiped the blood off, seeing it on her hands, did she realize just how much of a mess she made. She wanted to put a hand over her mouth.

“Aunt Luisa’s going to kill me.” She said, “but not before Jorge. Hm.”

Chamuco was startled by her blood covered appearance in the stable. She rubbed his muzzle, but he kept backing away when the scent of iron filled his nose.

“It’s okay boy, it’s me. I need your help.” She whispered, grabbing reigns, ropes and straps. Chamuco was readied and strapped up properly before he was led into the ring. The dead bull put him off ease, but it wasn’t the reason both him and Anita felt nervous.

They felt like something was watching them.

For Chamuco especially, being an animal, his senses were stronger than Anita’s.

He knew.

Anita tied one end of rope around the bulls hind legs. She glanced again at the empty seats surrounding them. Nothing.

“Wait here, I’ll be back.” Anita said

Chamuco knew he was not alone when Anita was gone. In a burst of gold petals a woman clad in red and white appeared in front of him. He started to neigh and rear back in fear, but a sweet smelling hand began stroking his muzzle.

“Shhh. Esta bíen, esta bíen.” Came the calm female voice. She was so pretty under the large red hat.

A tall man with black wings, smelling of tar and other gross things moved from her side to the bull. The woman tried to calm Chamuco down, but this man of darkness kept him on edge.

“Hm. That was surprising. I was really expecting her to die.” The man said, poking the bull with the staff he held. The woman laughed, stroking Chamucos mane.

“That girl is the daughter of Carmelo Sanchez. I can tell, greatness is in her future.” The woman said. Chamuco liked her. He whinnied in agreement and pushed his head into her hand.

“Ah, but remember, my dear,” the man said, holding up one of his long fingers, “her father fought many bulls, but died young. Accidents have been known to happen in the bullring. Especially after flirting with death the way that she did.” He chuckled, looking darkly at the bull.

“If you dare end her life before her time,” the woman said threateningly. Chamuco stomped a hoof and turned toward the man, snorting in his direction, surprising him. The woman chuckled.

“Foul beast.” The man said

“He’s named for your brother, you know.” The woman said, turning Chamucos head away from the man.

“No wonder then.” The man said, turning away from the woman.

“Xibalba.” The woman said

“La Muerte.” Xibalba responded, turning around and pointing at La Muerte, “You know, I bet that girl will die before she can have children.” La Muerte laughed.

“Oh Xibalba,” she said, continuing her stroking of Chamuco’s mane, “after this spectacle, how can you even think that she’ll be following so closely in her father’s footsteps? Anita will live a long life. Maybe she’ll live past her grandchildren.”

“So, is that-” Xibalba started, sliding up next to La Muerte

“NO. Don’t say it.” La Muerte said, holding a hand up. She was not going to let herself fall into this trap.

“But we could make things interesting-” Xibalba tried again. La Muerte slapped his face. Xibalba held his wings up to protect himself.

“Don’t think us being here together like this makes me forgive you for what you’ve done. There is no wager to be had here.” La Muerte was firm in her resolve. Xibalba knew there was no changing her mind. 

“But-” he started

“I said NO.” La Muerte said. The candles on her hat and dress flared up. Chamuco even saw a literal fire in her eyes. She reminded him of Anita. He was still startled by the heat.

“Chamuco? Are you alright boy?” Anita asked, towing a cart behind her. She could not see the God and Goddess. Chamuco came over to her nudging her towards them though. She only saw the bull.

“It’s dead boy. Dead. See?” Anita kicked the bull.

“Until we meet again.” La Muerte said to Chamuco before vanishing in front of him. Xibalba crossed his arms.

“Hmph, if she likes her, I might need to keep an eye on this one.” He said before vanishing as well. Anita shivered at the gust of wind that came with both of their disappearances. She turned around and caught something that almost flew into her face.

It was a black feather.

She held it up the moonlight.most black feathers had colors in it, shining under the light. This one, however shined with one color. Green. There were no birds out now. Not even owls hooting. Perhaps, Niata figured, this was a gift from the gods.

But she still had work to do.

The other end of the rope that bound the bull’s legs was attached the Chamucos saddle. Anita had the cart lowered right in the bulls path. Chamuco pulled the bull up onto the cart. Anita climbed off of him to strap his saddle to the cart and tie the bulls legs to the cart, too.

“I know exactly where to put this filth.” Anita said, climbing back onto Chamucos back. They left the arena with their cargo and deposited it where it needed to go.

As soon as the deed was done, Anita led Chamuco to his stable and gave him extra feed for his good work.

Anita filled a bucket of water and grabbed a brush and an empty bucket, scrubbing at the blood covered grounds of the ring. Rags were brought out and wrung out in the empty bucket. What water was left over was dumped over herself to help wash off the blood. She gasped at the cold feeling.

The bucket of water and blood was dumped into the bull corral. With the gate to it closed, Anita leaned back on it. Slowly she sunk to the ground. With cleanish hands she rubbed her forehead.

“What am I going to tell Aunt Luisa?” She asked

She stifled a yawn and went into the stable, taking a seat in the empty stall. Chamuco looked over at her. Anita threw some hay at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She said. “I can’t go back inside. Aunt Luisa’s in there. I just need to rest a moment.”

Anita let herself lie back in the hay. She let out a sigh and slowly closed her eyes. Sleep took hold a few minutes later.

A scream within San Angel seemed to wake everyone in the town up. Even Anita jumped in her hay bed. She realized what time it was, seeing the sunrise through the boards of the stable. She scrambled to her feet and out of the stable. Anita looked up at Casa Sanchez, up at the window of the washroom.

She soon bgan to scale the wall. When she reached the washroom, she closed the door and and took off her blood covered night clothes. 

“Anita?! Jorge?!” Aunt Luisa yelled

Unsure of just what to do next, Anita threw her clothes out the window and covered herself up with a towel. As if on cue, Aunt Luisa barged in. The old woman sighed in relief upon seeing her niece.

“There you are mija.” She said

“Yes.” Anita nodded. Aunt Luisa looked behind her at the tub.

“I’ll fetch you some water. But when you’re done, come downstairs. I have questions for you.” Aunt Luisa said

With those words, Anita never felt so nervous.

But at the same time, she wasn’t.

Chapter Text

“Disrespectful! Disgusting monstrosity! Rude! Horrible!” Came a male voice from downstairs. It was the señor.

“Perhaps Anita will be able to explain just what happened.” Aunt Luisa said

“I told you what happened! That little… Rat! Killed a bull and left it at my door!” The señor yelled.

Anita smiled as she walked down the stairs, wearing her favorite dress. It was her favorite because it hid the trousers she wore underneath. She smiled at the two adults and gave a curtsy to them.

“Anita.” Aunt Luisa said

“Aunt Luisa.” Anita nodded, going into the kitchen.

A kettle of hot water over the fire whistled. Anita took it and poured it into a mug.

“I am not playing this time!” The señor yelled, slamming a fist on the nearby table. Anita did not react. She opened a box of tea and poured some into the steeper.

“Do not speak to my niece like that!” Aunt Luisa yelled back. Anita smiled.

“I will speak to her however I wish! You and her need to remember your places.” The señor yelled, crossings his arms. Aunt Luisa had no response.

The hot water was poured into Anita’s mug, with the steeper of tea dunked into it a few times. She strode past the señor to sit at the table in the living room. She did not look up at either Aunt Luisa or the señor. They both followed and stood at her sides.

“What happened last night?” They both pressed, putting a hand on the table. Anita took a drink.

Despite all of this, she felt calm. Relaxed. Comfortable. The adults might think they were in charge, but this little 13 year old girl was pulling all the strings.

“I had a nightmare. About a bull.” Anita said, casting a sideways glance at the señor, “I woke up Jorge. And, bravely, he came up with the idea to slay a bull, in my honor.” The sideways glance was turned towards Aunt Luisa. Anita paused, taking another sip of her tea.

“I knew I heard you two.” Aunt Luisa said, backing off.

“But that doesn’t explain-” the señor started. He was silenced, just by Anita lifting her hand to him.

She turned her head, giving a deadly glare to the señor. As she stood, her eyes didn’t stray.

“Señor, as I said last night,” Anita explained, “the bull was killed during the match, and so Jorge left to the ranch for a new one. With him gone, I was left to take care of the trash. I put it where it belonged.”

The señor was fuming. Anita took another sip of her tea.

“No no no, last night, you said the bull was accidentally killed.” He said

“Si, it was.” Anita said calming, before slamming her mug on the table and turning to the señor, “Because I was supposed to finish it, not him.”

Anita had to keep the stern face she wore. But she wished she could smile at the señors shocked expression. Desite the size differences, the señor felt so much smaller than Anita. The girl felt a smirk rise on her lips.

“If all that you’ve come here to do is make accusations about me or my hermanito, then I suggest you leave. Now.”

Anita took one step forward. The señor backed away, afraid. Good. He slowly retreated out their front door. Aunt Luisa went to make her own cup of tea while Anita took her seat at the table. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Aunt Luisa returned and sat across from her at the table.

“Mija, what really happened last night?” She asked. Anita groaned.

“I just told you and him. It’s the truth.” She said

“Then where. Is. Jorge?” Aunt Luisa asked

Whatever confidence Anita had trickled away. Her brain worked hard to think of something, anything, the perfect excuse.

“The bull was killed late last night. He decided to stay at the ranch for the time being.” Anita said, taking a long sip from her mug.

She might have said that a bit too quickly. Aunt Luisa raised an eyebrow.

“He’s coming back. I promise.” Anita said, taking another sip from her empty mug. Aunt Luisa sighed and crossed her arms.

“Where is he, Anita?” She asked

“He’s coming back.” Anita said

“ANITA SANCHEZ!” Aunt Luisa yelled, standing up. Anita shrank under her stare. With the señor gone, she may as well tell the truth now. She took a deep breath and stood as well.

“He left with the soldiers to Spain.” She said

A slap rang through the house. It might have been heard the next town over. Anita stood still, the spot of impact on her cheek turning a bright red.

“How could you let this happen?! We need him to keep the arena. I thought you cared about your family!” Aunt Luisa said, coming around the table to stand over Anita.

“I do care about my family, which is why I let him go!” Anita yelled back, going on the defensive. “He hates bullfighting and I’m better at it than him anyway!”

“How can you say that, you’ve never been trained.” Aunt Luisa said, crossing her arms.

“Who do you think killed the bull in front of the señor’s house?” Anita said, crossing her own arms, smiling victoriously. 

Aunt Luisa sputtered, trying to find the right words. Anita suppressed a laugh at her aunts expense. Aunt Luisa paused and took in a deep breath, clenching her fists. She didn’t want to hurt Anita again. Too soon. There was only one thing that can be done in this situation.

“Young lady, go to your room,” Aunt Luisa commanded, “and don’t come out until I say!" 

Anita curtsied and went up the stairs. She let herself fall onto her bed. She held Pepe over her and laughed.

"I fought a bull last night, Pepe, and I won!” She said, sitting up, “That señor is afraid, as he should be.” She started to stroke Pepe’s head. “This isn’t over though. I will be a bullfighter, whether Aunt Luisa wants me to or not. First,” she climbed out her window to retrieve the night clothes she had dumped, then climbed back up.

From her window, she could see their stables. She could see Aunt Luisa ride off on horseback, and she would see her come back a few hours later. Aunt Luisa returned with another set of horses carting a bull right behind her. Anita couldn’t see them as they brought the beast into the corral.

A new challenge, should the señor upset her, Anita thought.

With the sun almost done with setting, a deep orange hung in the horizon as stars peeked and shined through the deep purple in the skies above. Anita sighed counting them, reciting constellations, watching for shooting stars, anything to ease her boredom.

“Anita.” Aunt Luisa yelled from downstairs. Anita sighed and joined her in their dining room. 

“What’s for dinner?” She asked

“Beef.” Aunt Luisa said, sliding a plate in front of her. Anita smirked and took her knife and fork to start cutting into it.

“I’ve sent word. To all of your cousins.” Aunt Luisa said, taking her own seat. “If we can’t find a Sanchez by birth, perhaps we can find one by marriage, thanks to your father marrying my sister.” Anita rolled her eyes.

“Or you could look right in front of you.” She grumbled

“What was that?” Aunt Luisa asked

“You heard me.” Anita said louder

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” Aunt Luisa said, louder. Anita bit her lower lip, thinking very carefully of what she was going to say next, what was she going to do.

She smiled. She stood, and pushed her plate, which had plenty of food left on it, forward.

“I don’t take orders from false Sanchezes, like you.” Anita whispered before walking out the front door.

She went to the stables, to the empty stall next to Chamuco. It belonged to Jorge’s horse. Chamuco made a sound and looked at her. Anita shushed him and rubbed his muzzle.

“It’s been just one day, and I miss him, too, boy.” She whispered. “But thanks to him being gone, I can bunk here with you, stay out of Aunt Luisa’s hair. I do not like that old woman.”

Chapter Text

Days went by with Anita avoiding Aunt Luisa as much as humanly possible. She would have breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but leave after. She would attend her lessons, but climb out the window as soon as it was over. What relationship they had became strained at best.

As for Jorge, Aunt Luisa claimed that he wished to continue his training at the ranch where the bulls are raised. It helps him get on their level, in their heads. People have already begun to look forward to the day he fights bulls in his father’s arena.

Every way Anita thought of how she could become a bullfighter, she would realize this was Aunt Luisa. If the woman found out she was bullfighting, Anita would be chained in her bedroom. She would rather lick a pig than let some lousy false Sanchez disgrace her family name.

Distant relatives had come out of the woodwork to San Angel, auditioning for the role of “Sanchez Bullfighter”. Some were capable but not as enthusiastic, and those that were enthusiastc weren’t capable. This was an embarrassment. Anita sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Currently, she was watching one of those embarrassments.

Cousin Miguel was climbing over the wooden wall to escape the bull. The bull was even bored by these antics and just settled down in the center of the ring.

“Get in there Miguel!” Aunt Luisa yelled

“But it was so big and scary! You can’t make me!” Miguel yelled

Anita laughed and left to the stables. She grabbed a pitchfork to clean out the dirty hay. She paused and sighed, looking at Chamuco who was watching her.

“I live here more than the house. May as well make it comfortable.” Anita said to the horse. He huffed in response.

“I am not staying in there longer thanI should. You know how she is.”

“Hola.” Came a voice behind her. Anita jumped and put a hand on her chest.

A young and beautiful señorita entered the stable. She had the Sanchez chin and curl. Anita felt herself relax.

”Hola primo. What’re you doing here?” Anita asked

”Exploring while my hermano makes a fool of himself.” Came the girls response. Anita smiled and leaned on the pitchfork.

“Brothers, am I right?” She asked. The girl giggled.

”I’m Marcella.” She introduced herself.

”Anita. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a bit dirty.” Anita replied

”You’re a girl? I couldn’t tell.” Marcella said. Anita was wearing her trousers, and her hair was pulled up behind her, and she did have straw all over herself, but did she really look like a boy?

“No, I’m a girl.” Anita said. Chamuco huffed in his stall. Marcella was startled.

”You keep your bulls here?” She asked

Anita stared at the girl. She wasn’t serious right? She glanced at her horse, who turned to look at her too.

”Chamuco here is a horse, not a bull.” Anita explained

”What’s the difference? Marcella asked

”Ay dios…” Anita started, almost falling over. “Tell me about you’re brother.” Her voice cracked slightly as she changed the subject. She went back to work shoveling the hay with the pitchfork.

”Oh! Well, he’s here because we got word that the Sanchezes here needed a bull fighter.” Marcella explained

”Tch.” Anita scoffed, “We need a male bullfighter. If I had my way, I’d be out there training.”

“If you want to be a bullfighter so badly, why don’t you just become one?” Marcella asked, stepping closer to the stall.

“Because, I’m a lady,” Anita said, lifting up a corner of her imaginary skirt to curtsy, “and ladies don’t fight the bulls.” Marcella  laughed and walked towards Chamuco.

“Have you tried… Not being a lady then?” She asked, looking at the horse.

“Well, a few things are stopping me, biologically.” Anita said, stabbing her pitchfork into the hay. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

Chamuco stayed still as the young girl reached a hand out to his muzzle. She shrieked when he tried to bite it. Anita let out a giggle. Marcella looked down at her hand then up at Anita.

“Want to know something fun? I heard that some operas use young boys to play the part of young ladies.” She suggested

“Ugh, don’t get me started on the opera.” Anita said, looking away from her. “What kind of boy, still a child, abandons his family for music?” She picked up the pitchfork and threw it at the wall. Someone on the other side shrieked when the metal spikes made it through to the other side.

“I’m… sorry.” Marcella said softly.

Anita stood frozen. She stood up straight and closed her eyes.

"A Sanchez never apologizes. Get out of my stables.” She said, turning around.

The young girl looked close to tears as she ran from the stables. When she opened the door, Aunt Luisa was on the other side. Marcella gave her a cutesy before running past her. Aunt Luisa stepped in to look at her niece with disdain, an envelope in her hands.

“Mija, I was hoping I wouldn’t find you here. Why not let the boys take care of the stables?” She said

“Maybe because I like my conversations with Chamuco.” Anita grumbled. Aunt Luisa either ignored her, or couldn’t understand her.

“Somebody delivered this today. It’s for you.” She said, holding the paper out. Anita snatched it away and ripped the envelope open. Her eyes scanned over the page, reading her brothers handwriting.

"What does he say? When will he return?” Aunt Luisa asked, trying to look over Anita’s shoulder. Anita pulled away to read on her own.

“He likes Spain. It’s beautiful. Art, buildings, women, men, and the opera.” She said

“Music is not work fit for a Sanchez Bullfighter.” Aunt Luisa said

“That’s what I told him!” Anita said loudly, before looking back at the letter. “He felt seasick from the sailing over. Him and the soldiers are living in the Plaza de Cortez.”

“Hm, I might have a a friend who can watch over him.” Aunt Luisa commented

"And you’re telling me now?” Anita yelled. Aunt Luisa looked at her with a flat expression.

“Yes.” Aunt Luisa responded curtly before leaving Anita alone in the stable. 

Anita sighed and looked down at the bucket of water for Chamuco. She looked at her reflection. She could get a haircut. She was due for one anyway. 

Aunt Luisa wouldn’t allow it though. 

A young ladies hair must be long and luxurious. Ugh.

Anita rubbed Chamuco’s muzzle and decided to go on a walk through San Angel. She considered her options. She could sit on the sidelines as a false Sanchez fights bulls, and gets themselves killed. Or she could force her way into the ring and not let anyone who isn’t a Sanchez get killed.

”Have you tried not being a lady?”

Those words kept repeating in Anita’s head. It seemed too simple and too complicated of a solution. Too many things could go wrong. She could be found out in a million different ways.

It was a dangerous idea.

But that’s what made it all the more thrilling to Anita.

A smile played on her lips as she gained a pep in her step. Mentally, she was planning how to be a man for bullfighting. She’d need a traje de luces, she’d need to fight like a man, and she’d need to look like a man.

She felt her face heat up at the idea of seeing him.

Oh yeah, she knew who could help her…

Chapter Text

“AAAY! Can you pull SOFTER?!” Anita yelled

She wanted to make herself look desperate. She wanted a need for her plan to work. A bucket of tar not being used was a solution. And dipping the ends of her hair in it did the trick.

It was hot and stinking work, but it meant she had no choice in the matter anymore.

The Mendoza family lived near the Sanchezes. Mrs. Mendoza was pulling and cutting Anita’s hair. As painful as it was, it needed to be done.

Mr. Mendoza was who she needed the most. He was the town wig maker.

They also have a son, Anton Mendoza…

“There’s a lot of tar stuck in there. You could always talk to your aunt.” Mrs. Mendoza replied

“No way. If she found out, I wouldn’t survive her rage.” Anita replied

Another reason to visit the Mendozas. Aunt Luisa would make Anita feel worse about herself, no matter how many times she would say it was an accident. It was a lie but it was the only one she had.

“There… We… Go!” Mrs. Mendoza said proudly. The last of the tar covered hair had been cut off. Anita grimaced at the sight in the mirror. The hair that was left over was still a mess of uneven locks.

”Señora, I think it needs to be shorter.” She explained

”Qué? I hear bobs are the new style.” Mrs. Mendoza replied. Anita fidgeted with the hem if her shirt.

“I need it shorter.” She said, her tone colder than it needed to be.

The señora shrugged and picked up her scissors to cut Anita’s hair shorter. The young girl let out a relaxed sigh. It was a small hiccup in the larger plan. No harm, no foul. Throughout the hair cutting, Anita had gotten an audience with the orphans Anton often brought over to play with.

He often visited the orphanage to play with the children and help the nuns. As kind as he was handsome…

“How did you feel when she was taking out the tar parts?” A little girl asked, pulling Anita from her thoughts.

“Like my head was going to explode from all the pulling.” Anita replied

“You look kinda like a boy!” Another pointed out, much to amusement of the others.

“Yeah, laugh it up. So funny.” Anita replied with rolling eyes. She pulled on a bead strung on the necklace she wore under her shirt. The center of it was the black feather from her first bull fight.

“We got a few wigs you could use.” Mrs. Mendoza pointed out, as she continued cutting.

”Gracias, señora. I’ll need it so Aunt Luisa won’t get suspicious.” Anita said

And would that woman become suspicious if Anita came home with short hair. She’d say it’s to sabotage all the work put into her. It’s rebellion or depression for Jorge leaving. She’s up to something and going to get herself killed.

Maybe she is, but she’ll die a bullfighter, rather than an old lady in a wheelchair.

“That should about do it.” Mrs. Mendoza once again pulled Anita back into the real world.

She left Anita alone with the children as the young girl looked in the mirror. 

It was like magic. Her hair was short and it was perfect. She didn’t feel knots as she ran her hand through it. It didn’t get in her face when she shook her head.

And above all else, she didn’t just look like a boy. She looked like a different person entirely.

Granted, she still had one curl that stood out from the others, but it’s a family trait. All Sanchezes have it.

”Perfect.” Anita said with a smile. She felt a tug on her arm. And 10 eyes were on her.

”Can you play with us now?” One child asked

”Please?” Another added

”I didn’t promise playing with you.” Anita commented

”What if I tell Señora Mendoza that I saw you put your hair in the tar, and it didn’t fall on you.” One said slyly. Anita smirked and knelt down in front of them.

”Then I’ll throw you into the bull ring, with no sword or cape, with three bulls.” She said. The child started backing away until she grabbed their arm. “Or you can keep quiet and I’ll sneak some conchas into the orphanage for you and your friends.”

The child nodded their head. Anita looked past them to the others, and they did the same.

”Excelente.” She said, standing once more.

Anita wasn’t what anyone would call a caregiver. She saved those moments for when Jorge or Chamuco were sick. But children? She felt uncomfortable around them. And to think, she was expected to have them?! Not in this life, or the next. It’s more fun just to play with them and send them back to wherever they came from.

And to give them a scare like she just did. That did put a smile on her face.

Hopefully, after that scare, they would all just sit in this awkward silence until Mrs. Mendoza returned.

“So you live in the Plaza del Toros?” One little boy asked

So much for the silence.

“Si, well, kind of. My house is Casa Sanchez, just on the edge of it, near the stables.” Anita replied. Some children made noises of disgust.

“Does it get stinky?” Another boy asked

“A little. That’s why you have to do your chores and keep stables clean.” Anita explained

“Eeew!” Majority of the girls said

“Oye, everyone has to do their part.” Anita directed this to the girls.

“Girls don’t clean stables anyway. Boys do that.” A boy said

“And… Why is that?” Anita asked

“Yeah, girls are too weak for hard jobs like that.” His friend agreed. Other boys nodded in approval. Anita chuckled and ran a hand through her short hair.

“Wow, honestly. At this age. I can’t believe I need to tell kids this.” Anita stood over the little boy. “A girl is just as good, as fast, as smart, and as strong as any boy who dare say otherwise. You have no idea the strength we possess. I have to clean out my horse’s stable. My beloved and dangerous Chamuco won’t let anyone else. He’d stomp anyone to death who’d dare try. And I personally inspect every bull that’s delivered, just to make sure they’re up to the Sanchez standard.” She was scaring the boy, just like she wanted.

“But you don’t fight the bulls.” He piped up. Anita puffed her cheeks up at that. She glanced around the room and leaned forward. The children did too, knowing this would be a secret.

“Not yet I don’t.” She whispered with a smirk.

“Now, I only have one wig that matches your hair.” Mrs. Mendoza returned into the room with a black wig. It was a bit shorter than her hair before the tar, but it had the curls just right. Anita tried it on. Felt good.

“And I know how much you like wearing boy clothes. So, I brought some of Anton’s. Might be a bit big for you.” Mrs. Mendoza said, holding up a bag.

Anton Mendoza was a sweet boy. He was always willing to help anybody and everybody. And, honestly, he wasn’t bad on the eyes, too.

“Where is he?” Anita asked

“Gabby wasn’t feeling good. He wanted to make her soup.” A boy said. Anita ‘Awed’ and put a hand to her heart. The children all giggled. Anita growled and glared at them, silencing their joyful sounds.

“Thank you for everything Mrs. Mendoza, but I should really be going. Aunt Luisa is probably wondering where I am by now.” Anita stood up. Mrs. Mendoza put a hand on her arm.

“Anita, I know it’s hard when a sibling leaves home. But at least you can visit him, right?” She said. Anita sighed. If only Spain was as close as the ranch.

“It’s not that easy.” She replied, leaving the Mendoza house, wig on. She walked through her house, instead of climbing to her room. Aunt Luisa was still with the “bullfighters”.

On her way, she snuck away a spool of thread and needle from her aunts room. Her lessons on being a lady ever did come in handy when it came to sewing. One of Jorges training traje de luces would make a perfect fit for her. Just needed to make it her size.

But first…

Chapter Text

“YOU ARE ALL PATHETIC! USELESS! I NEED A SANCHEZ BULLFIGHER, BUT ALL I GET ARE THE LIKES OF YOU!” Aunt Luisa yelled at all the men who were auditioning for Sanchez Bullfighter. All of them were squirming under her scathing words and burning eyes. She was right.

“I thought I was doing good.” Rodolfo scoffed. Aunt Luisa smacked him with the book she carried.

“YOU HELD THE CAPE THE WRONG WAY! HOW?! WHAT KIND OF IDIOTA DOES THAT?! OH THAT’S RIGHT, YOU DO RODOLFO!” Aunt Luisa all but screeched in his face. The young man was close to tears.

Perhaps this was a foolish endeavor. With having to raise Anita, maintaining the bullring and organizing the corridas is too much of a hassle. She wasn’t a Sanchez, after all. Perhaps it would be for the best to…

A whistle came from the other side of the arena. Everyone turned to see who it was. Even the bull that was resting in the ring lifted its head curiously to look at the newcomer.

It was a boy. He had messed up short hair and dirt covering his face. His clothes were worn and old, and some parts of the whole outfit had to be tied to make it fit the small body it covered. He strode down the steps of the aisles to the edge of the ring.

“If you want a Sanchez bullfighter, look no further.” He yelled, jumping in

“What is he doing?” Aunt Luisa asked

”He doesn’t even have a cape!” Rodolfo pointed out

“TORO! Toro Venga! Times for you to mess with the best!” The boy yelled, clapping his hands to get the bulls attention. He took up a fighting stance, circling around it. The beast looked up at the stranger and huffed. He stood up and stomped his hooves.

The boy backed away. He needed a good view of what the bull was going to do next.

“Get out of there! He’s experienced!” Aunt Luisa yelled. She snatched the cape away from Rodolfo and threw it as hard as she could into the arena. It landed far behind the boy. As the bull charged, he narrowed his eyes at the beast.

“So am I.” He whispered

He tucked his legs and rolled out if the bulls way in time to dodge it. The bull stopped itself and turned to see the boy running to the cape. It started running after him, When he realized the bull was coming straight at him, the boy spun around and threw the cape into the bull’s face. It was shocked and came to a skidding halt. It felt a strange weight on it when it finally shook the cape off. The boy was nowhere in his line of vision.

“Yoo hoo!” Came the singsong voice, above the bull.

Finally, he registered the what the new weight on his shoulders, tugging on his horns, was. The bullfighter was on him! He shook his head roughly and began jumping and bucking to loosen the boys grip.

He merely laughed in response.

“Come on! I thought you were experienced!” The boy mocked

On the sidelines, the Sanchez family and Aunt Luisa were watching with surprised amusement. The boy was clever, fast, and strong. Even if he wasn’t a real Sanchez, Aunt Luisa would be willing to fake it to keep him around. He put on a great show.

“Bravo boy!” Rodolfo cheered

“What’s your name boy?” Aunt Luisa yelled

“My name?” He asked. The boy gave off a girlish scream when he was finally launched off the bulls back. He git the ground hard and groaned as he turned himself around. The bull was coming at him. He scrambled to his feet to dodge the attack. While the points of the horns flew by, the curved part of the horns slammed into his left side. He yelled and collapsed to his knees.

“Boy!” Yelled cousin Miguel

“No!” The boy yelled back, gasping as he stood. “I’m not done yet.” He turned around. The bull was watching and waiting before he started running to the boy.

The boy clasped his hands together making a tight fist. When the beast was close enough, the boy darted forward and swung his hands at the right time. They slammed into the bulls chin.

The bull fell to the side, dazed, tired. The boy jumped slightly when he heard metal clang behind him. He spun around to see a sword in the sand.

“Finish it!” Aunt Luisa yelled

The boy just stared at her for a full minute. Quickly he grabbed the sword and slid it into then bulls ribs. It shook, but then laid still. The boy closed his eyes and exhaled softly. He heard everyone coming toward him. When Aunt Luisa came into view, he backed away. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I heard you needed a Sanchez bullfighter.” He said

“Perhaps.” Aunt Luisa responded, skeptical of the stranger. “What is your name?”

“Junito Sanchez. Call me Junie. I am the brother of the cousin of the grandson of the uncle of Carmelo. Twice removed.” He explained, rubbing the side that was hit by the bull. It was tender to touch.

“Hm.” Aunt Luisa began walking around Junie, “And how long will you be here in our little town?”

“As long as you need a Sanchez bullfighter.” Junie responded

“Gracias. That’s wonderful.” Aunt Luisa sighed happily. The book she held was handed to Junie. “This has everything Carmelo was taught to fight bulls. Training will begin tomorrow in the morning before my niece’s lessons.”

“No.” Junie said firmly. “I prefer my work be done in the bright noonday sun. My primo should focus on that, and not me.”

“And of course, you’ll be staying in Casa Sanchez.” Aunt Luisa added

“Actually, I found a nice place on the edge of town. The ranch where your bulls come from.” Junie said. “Now I really must go take care of myself.”

Before anyone could say anything else, Junie hurried himself out of the ring to Casa Sanchez. He hissed and bit his tongue as he climbed up the wall to her room. The book was hard to carry, but she managed.

Anita collapsed on her bed in pain, holding her side. But she was successful. She will be a bullfighter and no one will ever know.

Maybe they will figure it out, especially if she gets hurt like she is now. At least she was alive though. She needs to be more careful.

“Agh!” She yelled, sitting up. Slowly, she changed into her dress and put her wig on. She sat on the edge of the window. At least there was hay below her.

“Why’d you have to get hurt Junie?” She whispered, and then fell making sure to scream as loud as she could.

Unfortunately, Anita couldn’t remember much after she felt the hay on her back. She woke up in a doctors office, Aunt Luisa sitting at her bedside. Instinctively, Anita touched her head. The wig was was still on.

“Young lady! What were you doing?!” Aunt Luisa suddenly yelled pinching Anita’s ear. The girl smiled.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but it felt like I was hit by a bull.”

Chapter Text

The sun barely peaked over the horizon when a single rooster let out a crow. Anita sprung out of bed, having been fully healed after a week. Wearing her boy clothes, she jumped out of her window, landed the right way, and began her run around San Angel. 

The town itself hadn’t awoken yet. Perhaps a few would hear footsteps and glance outside their windows. Anita was gone before they could see her. Scaling one building, she started the second part of her run, jumping from building to building. 

She was agile but careful. She would stop at some particularly large gaps to size them up, deciding whether to take the leap or not. But she would also swing from signs, balance on top of lamps, and just be free.

Anita jumped and rolled, running down the bridge to the tree standing guard at the opposite end. It was there that she finally stopped and stared at the horizon. The sun wasn’t all the way up yet, but it was almost there.

“Need to get faster.” She whispered

“Good thing you weren’t.” Came a voice

Anita yelped and jumped away from the tree. Anton Mendoza came out from behind it.

He was a tall young man, wearing a striped blue and black tunic and dark grey trousers. His straight brown hair was cut short, as usual. Overall, he was so handsome.

“Cause if you were faster, we might not have met.” He added

Anita lost all of her words. Her face felt hotter for some reason, too. Why was this happening?! Just say something and stop just standing there!

“Yes. Of course.” Anita said, “Weird like some weird coincidence, or uh,”

“Destiny?” Anton suggested walking closer. For some reason, Anita couldn’t move. Her fingers began fiddling with her hidden feather necklace. Anton chuckled.

“I like your hair short. Makes you look cute.” He said. Anita’s face felt hotter than before. She swallowed a lump in her throat and spoke louder than necessary.

“Thanks! But I needed the wig. I look so much… Like my cousin. It helps tell us apart.” Anita said, the speed in her words slowing and quickening as she thought.

“Well, with or without the wig, I would like it if… We could possibly meet. Again?” Anton said

Was he nervous too? Suddenly, Anita felt a bit better about the situation. She smiled.

“Yes. We should.” Anita responded. She glanced back at the horizon, “I’m sorry, but I have to go.” she started running off. “I’ll see you around!” 

Anton really really liked Anita. She loved her brother and her family. She was unafraid of being herself, whether that be as a girl, or a boy. He had been waiting for the time to ask her, to be together, even for a moment. And it came!

He smiled and glanced behind the tree. A guitar rested against the trunk. He liked to practice here early in the morning. That way, he wouldn’t wake up his parents. He picked it up and started playing and singing along.

“Feeling my way through the darkness.”

Anita ran back through the town, climbing up to her window to change her outfit to the dress and wig.

“Guided by a beating heart”

She walked down the stairs to meet Aunt Luisa for breakfast.

“I can’t tell where the journey will end”

Anita ate, ignoring her Aunt, her mind on other things.

“But I know where to start.”

During her lesson, she looked out the window. A few birds flew up into the bluest blue sky she’d seen in weeks. 

“They tell me I’m too young to understand.”

Aunt Luisa pulled her chin forward to make her pay attention. Anita sighed and crossed her arms.

“They say I’m caught up in a dream.”

Aunt Luisa drew on the chalkboard different figures and poses for the waltz she was supposed to be learning.

“Life will pass me by if I don’t open up my eyes,”

Aunt Luisa suddenly grabbed Anita’s hands to dance with her. It was surprising and a little fun.

“Well that’s fine by me.”

Junito fell to the ground, losing balance.

“So wake me up when it’s all over,”

Aunt Luisa helped ‘him’ up and opened the book up.

“When I’m wiser and I’m older,”

She pointed to a page of a diagram of sword handling

“All this time I was finding myself, and I didn’t know I was lost.”

“Sharp movements, Junie. Sharper. Smoother.” She said, walking away.

“So wake me up when it’s all over,”

“Sharp and smooth…” Junie mumbled

“When I’m wiser and I’m older,”

He started to repeat the movements only to fall back down again. Aunt Luisa groaned, dropping the book and walking out of the ring.

“All this time I was finding myself, and I didn’t know I was lost.”

She looked down at her sword and the book, an idea coming to mind.

The next morning, she was up earlier and heard guitar music at the tree.

“Anton?” She asked

“Anita?” He asked, coming around to the front of the tree. “What are you doing here… With those?” He pointed to the swords she held.

“Junie needs practice with a sparring partner, and I’m not as good as him. You and I can practice, then I can practice with him.” Anita said, tossing one to Anton. She swung her sword around. Anton carefully put his guitar down to strike at the waiting blade.

They fought around the tree. And when Anita fell again, Anton helped her back to her feet.

“Think of it like a dance.” He said. A light turned on in Anita’s head.

Later that day, Junito performed the movements perfectly, smooth and sharp. Aunt Luisa was happy, but she still had him perform it until there were no imperfections.

Days went past like this. Slowly, the days became weeks. The weeks became months.

Anita collapsed on her bed.

“I tried carrying the weight of the world,”

She held up her hands to look at the blisters that were forming thick callouses.

“But I only have two hands,”

She rolled over to her side, looking up at the portrait of her family.

“I hope I get the chance to travel the world,”

She reached up touching her young smile.

“And I don’t have any plans.”

Aunt Luisa and Anita walked through the market looking for food.

“I wish that I could stay forever this young,”

She was getting a little bored, glancing around the town square.

“Not afraid to close my eyes,”

A group of orphans swarmed through. Anton, amongst them, was playing his guitar.

“Life’s a game made for everyone,”

The two locked eyes for just a moment. It made them both smile.

“And love is the prize.”

Anita woke up earlier than before, doing push-ups and sit-ups before starting her run.

“So wake me up when it’s all over,”

She ran back home and pulled Chamuco into the ring.

“When I’m wiser and I’m older,”

He was trained to act like a bull. It helped Anita with her dodging.

“All this time I was finding myself, and I,”

She spun around to avoid Chamuco.

“Didn’t know I was lost.”

Her traje de luces was almost done. She sewed it whenever she had the chance.

“So wake me up when it’s all over,”

Even tired and exhausted from the day before, with only a candle to light her room, she was sewing.

“When I’m wiser and I’m older,”

She pulled herself into her bed, so tired of everything, but still determined to continue this charade.

“All this time I was finding myself, and I,”

She looked up at the many letters tacked on the wall around the portrait.

“Didn’t know I was lost,”

There were so many, all from Jorge. He missed home.

“I didn’t know I was lost.”

She missed him too. But this was why she was doing this.

“Didn’t know I was lost.”

For family. For her family.

“Didn’t know I was lost.”

She pulled the blanket over her head.

“I didn’t know.”

Junito pulled the cape off of his shoulder. It was now his first match after a year of training. The crowds were cheering loudly as he dodged and swept around the bull that tried to hard to kill him. It was an amazing show, and the finishing of the bull was brutally magnificent.

Junie held his arms up, waving to the crowds. 

“Bestia! Bestia!” They chanted

Anita smiled. She was a beast. Junie started chanting along with them in agreement. Before walking out of the ring.

Chapter Text

“Feliz cumpleaños, niña!” Aunt Luisa said happily, hugging Anita in the dining room. Anita laughed and pushed away at her arms.

“Gracias, again. For the third time. But I really should go.” She said

While both women had their differences, the years have cooled the heat between them. Thankfully, Aunt Luisa hasn’t discovered the truth about her and Junie. As it should be.

“Sure! Sure, go out, find some boy to take care of you.” Aunt Luisa let go to sit down.

Anita rolled her eyes. Here it comes.

“I mean, how do you expect the Sanchez family name to live on?” Aunt Luisa asked

“Maybe, you know. My brother? Jorge?” Anita suggested

“Ah, yes. Him.” Was all Aunt Luisa had to say about the subject. She took a sip of her tea before continuing.

“Why not visit the soldier stomping grounds. Go… Go see what ripe fruits there are.” Aunt Luisa said, her tone wistful.

“Aunt Luisa!” Anita retorted, face blushing.

Thanks to Junie’s fights, they have been making a lot of money. Aunt Luisa felt their status was higher than before and wanted to make sure the town knew of it. And so, she was very insistent on Anita marrying soldiers, aristocrats, anybody with a high societal standing or a pedigree.

Basically, not sons of wig makers and barbers.

Like bullfighting, Aunt Luisa wasn’t stopping her. As hard as she may try.

A loaf of bread was wrapped in a napkin and shoved in a satchel. She sighed, going to the door.

“I have to go.” Anita said

“Stay safe mija!” Aunt Luisa called out.

“I will.” Anita responded, walking out the door.

She sighed and pulled her wig off, shoving it in her satchel. She ran a hand through her hair. It was getting too long again.

It was also getting late. She had to hurry. Her skirt was pulled off to reveal the trousers she wore underneath. She ran into the stable and hid it in her second bedroom next to Chamuco. The horse in question raised his head to look at her.

“Anton wants me to be with him today. For my birthday.” Anita told him, toying with the black feather necklace she always wore. Chamuco huffed

“A girl turns 18 once.” Anita responded, running a hand through his mane. “I gotta go.”

She ran back out of the stables and kept going through the town. She stopped when she reached the one dock San Angel had. It was a surprising fact considering the town was surrounded by a lake. Anton stood at the end, tuning his guitar. He smiled when Anita came closer. They hugged, with Anita lifting and spinning Anton around.

“Happy birthday!” He said

“Thanks!” Anita said, pulling back to look at him in the eye.

“Want to see your present?” Anton asked

“I’ve been waiting all day!” Anita said loudly

“Close your eyes then.” Anton whispered. Anita raised an eyebrow, making Anton chuckle. “Just trust me.” Anita sighed and closed her eyes.

She felt Anton take her by the hand and lead her down the dock. Wood creaked beneath their feet. Water lapped against the supports. Smaller footsteps scurried around them, whispers and shushes surrounded them.

“And,” Anton moved to stand behind Anita, “open them up!”

There was a boat, painted blue and red, with fiery hearts and smiling skulls around it. A banner reading ‘Feliz Cumpleaños Anita’ was strung around the edge. A parasol was propped up on one end, a picnic basket sat at the other, with a table in the center. And filling every open crack of the boat were bright yellow marigolds.

Anita wanted to laugh. It was so corny.

“Thanks Anton.” She said, turning around, to see him. He was beaming. Anton walked around to help her into the boat, into the end with the parasol.

“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting as many,” she paused to pick up a marigold, “flowers, and so much,” she looked up at the parasol and ran a hand around the frilly edge of it, “lace.”

“I know. I wanted to top the last picnic in the bullring somehow. I know you like marigolds.” Anton picked up the oars and started rowing, “So, why not a picnic on the lake.”

Anita would not call herself a romantic person. Twice did she actually ignore really romantic gestures, feeding a bouquet to Chamuco and downing an entire box of chocolate in one sitting. But Anton was smart.

He knew she wasn’t the girliest of girls, and he respected her for it. But this was her birthday. He had to do something for her. This was only the beginning anyway. Anita pulled the bread from her satchel and placed it on the table. From the bag, she also pulled out a pair of scissors.

“While we’re out here, would you mind?” She asked, holding them out to Anton.

“Sure.” he said, taking them. The boat rocked with Anita climbing onto the table to move closer. Silently, he cut her hair shorter. She started to fiddle with her feather necklace under her shirt, seeing as there was nothing else to do.

“I thought you would have wanted it longer, so you wouldn’t look like Junie.” Anton asked

“I do, but honestly, I really like it short. It’s freeing.” Came Anita’s response.

“But am I to expect Junie’s hair looking shorter the next bullfight then?” Anton asked. That question threw Anita for a loop. Her eyes darted this way and that, trying to think of a response. She started squeezing the leather cord around her neck.

“Uh,” was all that she said

“I figured it out.” Was all that she heard. Silence hung between them as water lapped against their boat.

“How long have you known?” Anita finally asked, letting go of her necklace. She was not surprised or scared of the fact. If she was, it didn’t show.

“I’m surprised nobody else has figured it out yet. Then again, nobody knows you as well.” Anton said. Anita’s shoulders drooped ever so slightly, “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Better be. You’ve seen me in the ring. You know I’m a beast.” Anita said, glancing back at her friend. He turned her head to continue cutting her hair, dropping the locks in the water.

When he was finally done, Anita took her seat under the parasol, running her hands through her shorter hair. Anton sliced the bread, and from the basket, pulled out sausage that was sliced as well. Both the bread and sausage were delicious.

“Is there anything else you wanted to say?” Anita asked

“I’m just happy to be with you.” Anton admitted, making Anita smile.

“There’s still something on your mind.” Anita said. Anton glanced at the sunset. “You can talk to me. We’re… We’re friends, right?”

“I would like it if we were more than friends.” Anton finally admitted. Anita was surprised at first, but smiled once more.

“I think I know what you mean.” She said

Anton looked back a to earn with a hopeful kind of smile. Anita suddenly looked annoyed.

“But Aunt Luisa really wants me to be with a guy who has a high social standing since ‘Junie’ has earned us so much money.” Anita confessed sadly, “That woman is nothing if not annoying. When I think she’s mellowed with age, more garbage spews from her mouth.”

“Sounds like a problem for the land. We’re on the water now.” Anton said, pulling out his guitar to play, softly strumming a few chords.

“After a day like this, I want to stay on the water for the rest of my life. Is that weird to say?” Anita asked, closing the parasol since it was getting darker.

“A little. But it’s not a bad thing. Let’s just live. For right now. In this moment.” Anton said, continuing his strumming. Anita finished off her food, listening to him play. She briefly noticed a light shine on the shore of the town, but it was gone in an instant.

“As the light begins to fade away,” Anton sang,”in the instant summer time. Living with the hope,” he put his guitar down, but the soft music continued, “that carries us, each day, another life.”

“Where’s that music coming from?” Anita asked. Anton laughed before singing again.

“I see rivers, frozen in place
boys with their games
play on the side,”

Something caught Anita’s eye in the water. A small floating lantern. They were getting closer to it.

“Threads will break, lie awake
in the night,”

When they were close enough, Anita reached down to scoop it up.

“In the night.”

Written on the lantern were the words ‘her loyalty’.

“I wrote down everything I like about you on every single one.” Anton said

“There’s more?” Anita asked

Her eyes grew wide as more lanterns began floating in their path.

“And the light, breaks down,
calling for your love,
calling for your love,”

Anita looked over the edge, reading every one. ‘Her laugh’, ‘her smile’, ‘her strength’, they just kept coming.

“And the dawn breaks now,
calling for your love,
calling for your love,”

Anita was touched. While she had known him since they were children, she had no idea he felt this way. But she knew Aunt Luisa could never know now.

They started to return to the dock which had many more candles on it still. Anita also caught a glimpse of the orphans he must have employed to help him with everything.

“as the road you follow,
one away,
about to say, goodbye.”

Anton dropped anchor. Both of them just stared at each other for a moment.

“I don’t think we can call each other just friends after today.” Anita said with a smile

“Girlfriend?” Anton said

“Boyfriend.” Anita said, climbing out of the boat. She pulled Anton up onto the dock.

“Does that mean we can… You know.” Anton asked

“Get over here.” Anita grabbed him by the lapels.

She pulled him forward and let their lips collide. Anton was surprised, feeling himself lean back slightly. He pulled away for a moment to wrap his arms around Anita’s waist to kiss her again. He dipped the girl he loved with all his heart. The two of them smiled knowing this would be the greatest date either of them ever have been or will be on.

Chapter Text

It had been nearly a month since Jorge had received the most recent letter from Anita, telling him about her and Anton.

He laughed when he read it.

He always noticed Anton peeking and peering at his sister from around corners. Jorge actually had a crush on him, too. Before he left, of course. 

“Sanchez!” Came the captain’s voice as he entered the barracks. Jorge put the letter down and stood at attention.

“Sir!” He said, saluting.

“Sanchez, what are you doing here?” The captain said

He was a stern man with big muscles and an even bigger mustache. He always had Jorge assigned to menial tasks. And Jorge always swore, that the first chance he got, he would run away, go down to Italy where the real artists were. Get away from the hulking brutes of Plaza Cortes.

“I was reading a letter from home, sir.” Jorge said. The captain chuckled.

“Why do that when there are so many officers boots to clean?” He asked, walking past him, dropping a handful of boots in front of Jorge. The teen sighed, but stood up straight when the captain looked at him.

“Any questions, boy?” He asked

“Sir, auditions for a new Pagliacci start tomorrow. I request a leave so I may attend, sir!” Jorge asked

“We’ll see, after you’re done.” He said, walking past him back to the door. The captain snatched the letter away before exiting.

Jorge sighed and sat down on his cot. Grabbing a rag that was in the hamper next to his bed, he spat on one boot and started scrubbing.

This was nothing like he wanted. He went from one hell to the next. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire. If Spain was the epicenter of beauty, art, and the opera, then it was a far cry from his location.

“… I wonder if they found anybody yet?” Came a voice outside his window.

“It’s an important part. A role anybody would want.” Came another. This caught Jorge’s attention. He stood on his cot to look out the window to the two men. They were walking, so he couldn’t hear everything.

“The festival is next week, right? They should find somebody by then.” The first man said

“If they can make it to Pamplona in time.” The second laughed

And that was the straw that broke the camels back. He needed to get out. But you can’t just quit the army. And he can’t just leave, or else he’ll be labelled a deserter. If that was heard in San Angel, the Sanchez family would be disgraced. 

Anita would hate him.

But how to get discharged?

A few ideas came to mind. Only a couple really stood out. One wasn’t easy, but the other wasn’t “good”. He didn’t have much of a choice now did he?

The captain was shaving with his knife, being careful not to ruin his mustache. 

“Captain! Your boots are done!” Jorge yelled

The captain felt the articles collide with the back of his head, sending his face into the sink in front of him. He growled  and glanced up at the mirror. Jorge closed the bathroom door. The captain gasped when he saw his own reflection. The scratch across his left cheek will heal. 

But his mustache!

Only half of it remained. All the years! All the grooming! Wasted in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, Captain!” Jorge yelled from his quarters. With a growl, the captain opened his door. Jorge was wearing the old conquistador armor and helmet that hung on the wall. On top of that, he was jumping on his cot.

“Now I really think I look good, but I could use another opinion.” Jorge jumped off landing in front of the Captain, “So, be honest. How do I look?” Part of the helmet sank below his eyes, but Jorge pushed it back up.

“Niño, to be quite frank,” the Captain said, his shaking hands curling into fists, “you look like a DEAD MAN!”

He threw a punch at Jorge, who simply stepped to the side to avoid him. The captain tried again, only to get the same result. But that didn’t stop him from trying to hit the boy in front of him.

Jorge always had found it easy to avoid things coming at him. Maybe it was the bullfighter in him, still alive despite the many times Jorge tried to kill the urges. But it was… Fun. Maybe this was what drew Anita to the sport.

He ducked and slid out from under the Captain’s arm. One punch hit the metal covering his chest. The impact shook him, but left a tone ringing in his ears and in the metal armor. For some reason, Jorge just laughed.

“Is that all?” He asked

The captain was exhausted from this. But at the same time, curious. The boy has every chance of throwing a punch. Is he just going to wait for him to tire out and collapse? That is not how a soldier should work.

“Si. I hereby discharge you on grounds of insubordination.” The captain commanded

“I am a Sanchez. We are born and raised on insubordination.” Jorge said with a smile, walking out of the room. When the door was closed, Jorge squealed and cheered quietly. He reached into his chest plate and pulled out Anita’s letter.

Everything was going right.

First, he did have to take care of some paperwork. The Captain didn’t even care if he kept the armor or not, just as long as he left.

But after, he ran through the streets and found a stable. He bought a horse and a map and headed north for Panploma. It took several days, and they hardly slept at all. But after a week they finally arrived. Jorge dismounted and stopped a person.

“Excuse me, but where are the auditions? For the festival?” He asked

“Audition?” The woman asked, “uh, it’s down this street at the arena.”

“Gracias.” Jorge said, leading Buttercup down the street the woman pointed.

But he was no idiot. Jorge knew a bullfighting ring when he sees one, and this was just that. But at the same time, it’s also good to have a regular show there, too. Good acoustics, large crowds, why use a bullring just for bullfighting, anyway? He pulled on the reigns and they rode into the ring. A man was sweeping in the ring.

“Hola, I’m here for the auditions.” Jorge said to him

“What audition?” The man asked

“You need someone? For the festival? I’m not too late, am I?” Jorge asked, dismounting Buttercup. The man looked at him curiously.

“What’s your name, boy?” He asked

“Jorge. Jorge Sanchez.” Jorge responded. The man’s eyes lit up. He ran toward him laughing and grabbing his face.

“A Sanchez! A Sanchez! You are exactly what I need!” He said enthusiastically. Jorge smiled widely, even though his face was being squished.

“That’s wonderful, but what do you need me for?” He asked

“All of my bullfighters have called me sick, days before the running of the bulls.”  The man explained, much to Jorge’s horror. “I needed a new one and Saint Fermin has dropped a Sanchez in my lap!”

“You know of the Sanchez family?” Jorge asked

“Every bullfighter knows of Carmelo Sanchez! There’s a new one, too. His name is Junie Sanchez. I hear he’s a beast. So you’ll have big shoes to fill.” The man wrapped an arm around Jorge’s skinny frame. He tried to wriggle his way out.

“Actually, I’m sorry to disappoint,” he said, lifting up the man’s arm, “but I… I am no bullfighter.”

“But… You are a Sanchez.” The man said, begging. 

“A name mean’s nothing.” Jorge said, “But all I’ve wanted when I came here was to sing in the opera.” He held out his hands to the empty seats in the surrounding arena. “It’s just…”

Why was he hesitating? Why? Why?

He knew exactly why.

Jorge sighed and took off his helmet, running a hand through his curls. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Look. I need a bullfighter. They don’t have to be good or bad, just need to put on a show.” The man said. “If you want, you can walk away after. But I can help train you if you want that.”

Jorge patted the armor he wore.

“I can wear this, right?” He asked

“Sure! And if you have a problem finishing it, imagine the bull as someone you hate. So?” The man asked, “What do you say?

Why am I even considering this?! This is not what I want! I want to sing! I just need a chance and audition! I don’t want to do this!

But…

The days went by before the main event finally arrived. Everyone cheered at what was the starting line for the running of the bulls, praising and singing to Saint Fermin. Jorge stood at the front. All e had to do was make it to the arena before the bulls. Of course, he asked about just staying there and waiting for the bulls, but this was the tradition, to run with them.

A shot went off. The crowds were silent. It was after the second shot did everyone start running. It seemed more running and not enough bulls initially, but eventually, the crowd collided with the herd. Jorge ran faster to separate himself from everybody else. He skidded to a halt when he found an empty street with a bull standing in the center of it.

It was pretty big, but not the biggest he’d seen. As the bull turned to charge toward him, Jorge ran toward it, staying close the the buildings. He stepped up on a windowsill and leapt over the bulls, tucking his legs in before letting them fall out to land on his feet and continuing his run.

“You want a fight, then come get me!” Jorge yelled over his shoulder. He heard hoof steps following behind him.

Okay. He had to admit. That was pretty fun.

The arena was in sight. More hooves were thundering behind Jorge. The whole herd must have joined the one he met. As he reached the door that led into the bullring, Jorge jumped onto it to let it swing open. The herd charged through with people in the ring leading them all into their corral. 

Jorge laughed and cheered. He pushed against the wall the door was up against to close it after the last bull had arrived. Fans and runners all started to assemble in the arena. Jorge dusted himself off and grabbed his cape before entering the ring.

“After this, you can walk away. You can walk away.” He said to himself

He was nervous. He didn’t really want to do this. This was just a bump in the road to the opera fame he wanted so dearly. But as soon as the audience saw him, as soon as he heard their cheers, all worries faded. He smiled and waved. He bowed. Everyone loved him.

Across the ring, the gate opened. It was the bull he met earlier that came out.

“Venga toro!” Jorge yelled, waving his cape. As the bull charged, he started humming. He was graceful in his dodges, trying and succeeding in having as much fun as he could. When his back was against the wall, he sprung up and jumped over the bull.

The crowds were cheering his name when the bull hit the wall. They were waiting for the finish. The man held out his sword.

“Remember what I said.” He said

Jorge took a deep breath as he pulled the sword out. The bull looked tired, exhausted. And it was up to Jorge to put it out of it’s misery. He just had to imagine it as somebody he hated. He closed his eye and opened it again.

“You will never be good enough.” The imagined figure said, “You will never be worth anything. You are no Sanchez, and you never will be.”

“I. AM. A SANCHEZ!!” Jorge yelled, stabbing the figure until it collapsed in a heap. The audience was unite, then they erupted like a volcano with cheers and praises. Flowers, hats, and handkerchiefs were tossed down to him. He felt honored.

He waved to them all. The man ran in and hugged him.

“Niño, that was fantastic! But, but,” the man backed off, holding his hands out, “I promised. You can walk away.”

“Actually.” Jorge said, “I think… I think I’ll stay.”

The man laughed and hugged him once more. And so, unknowingly, Jorge began down the same road that Anita took, with both siblings unaware of the secret lives the other led. People came in to deal with the dead bull, to drag it out of the arena. Nobody knew that Jorge didn’t see a bull though.

He saw his father.

Chapter Text

Red eyes huffed and snorted behind the thick bars of the corral, glaring at a smaller pair of light brown eyes. The bull growled at Anita, and she growled right back, a smile on her fake mustachioed face.

“Think you’re so tough.” She said

At last, the bull blinked.

“Ha! I win!” She said. The bull stomped its hooves at her. “Oh quit your whining. Tomorrow you won’t have anything to whine about anyway.”

“Junie! You shouldn’t tease the bulls.” Aunt Luisa cried out. Anita cleared her throat to lower her tone of voice.

“Sorry Aunt Luisa.” ‘He’ said

“We had a good practice today, but don’t get sloppy on your left side.” Aunt Luisa said, walking past Junie, “Remember, you are a wall. The bull can get past you, but never allow it to go through you.”

Junie nodded his head, looking around. She had to get moving. Couldn’t be late.

“Yeah, got it.” She said. “We’re done, right?”

“Si, mijo. Go do… Whatever it is you do at night.” Aunt Luisa said with a wave of her hand. Junie darted away to the rings chapel. She pulled the curtain over the window, and turned around to see Anton.

“What took you?” He asked

Anita shook her head and walked toward him. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. When she let go, she laughed. Some of her fake mustache rubbed off onto Anton’s face.

“Need to use less on the ‘stache, Nita.” He commented

“And whose fault is that?” Anita asked, turning her back to him and taking her shirt off. Anton gulped and looked away. She laughed and began unwrapping the rags that were tied around her chest. Posing as a man had its downsides.

“I uh, I told you. Mustaches made of human hair can get, uh, itchy and ruined with overuse. I don’t think it would last one match with a bull.” He said. Anita backed herself up to Anton. His face reddened.

“If you’re a son of a wig maker, you should have an endless supply of hair, and have enough skills to make your work last.” Anita said, putting her wig on, the long hair coming down over Anton’s face. He laughed and pushed it away. He grabbed Anita’s arm. She fell back and landed in Anton’s arms. He cleared his throat.

“By the way, does… Does your Aunt know? About… Us?” He asked

“No. And we need to keep it that way.” Anita tapped the tip of Anton’s nose. “Our little secret.”

“But… What if… I want to marry you? One day.” Anton asked. Anita sighed and stood up, fixing her hair.

“You say that as if I won’t ask. I’m not giving you a choice at this point.” She glanced at Carmelo’s portrait. “Might as well start planning, picking out a dress and suit. The suit for me, the dress for you.”

“Oh, of course.” Anton agreed. From the distance between them, he got a good look at Anita’s dress. It was pretty, pale blue with white ruffles around her collarbone and the base of her bodice. What surprised him about it was just how clean it was.

“Is that new?” He asked

“Yeah.” Anita sighed. She rubbed the back of her neck and walked forward. “You know Romero, right?”

“Yeah.” Anton nodded his head, knowing the snot nose brat boy who grew up in the town, thinking he had all the privilege in the world just cause his dad discovered something. Or did he win a war? 

What did it matter? He was a pain.

“You know about the fiesta he’s throwing for his birthday?” Anita asked

“Yeah.” Anton nodded his head, not being invited to it after hearing about it for weeks. He didn’t care.

“Well,” Anita started

“You’re going.” Anton stated

“Against my will. Aunt Luisa thinks it would be a good place for me to shine as a young woman, connect with people, and… Uh, find…” Anita said, fiddling with her feather necklace.

“Find the man Luisa wants you to marry.” Anton crossed his arms

While Orli was a bother, Romero was a nuisance. Every time he saw Anita, he would come up with something new to tease. At least, when they were younger. Anita became very good at avoiding him. It was one of the reasons she started to run on top of buildings and not through the streets.

“I will not enjoy it. That stupid boy kept making fun of my dad after he died. He’ll get whatever is coming to him.” Anita said. She stopped fiddling with her necklace and took it off, putting it around Anton’s neck. 

“If by some slim chance I’ve changed my mind about ‘us’, I won’t take that back from you tomorrow.” Anita said before she turned around to pick up Junie’s clothes, stuffing them into the chest below Carmelo’s portrait. She reached up to cover the scowl on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Anton said, sliding the black feather down under his shirt as she did when she wore it. 

“Tonight, if I can escape.” Anita said. She hugged Anton before leaving to Casa Sanchez, sneaking up to her room with Aunt Luisa not noticing.

“Anita! You better be ready!” Aunt Luisa yelled before entering her bedroom. Anita curtsied. Aunt Luisa was thrilled.

“Perfect! A vision of beauty!” She said

“Do I have to go?” Anita asked, still annoyed at the fact she was not given a choice whether or not she was going.

“There will be many fine young suitors there. We need to start considering a husband for you.” Aunt Luisa responded. Anita rolled her eyes, but kept her mouth shut.

As the sun began to set, the two woman departed for Romero’s home. It was big and fancy, and when the doors opened, both were floored by the beauty inside. 

“Now this is a house!” Anita whispered

The ballroom was a pristine white with gold wrapped around the columns. Tables were assembled near the walls, leaving the center open for dancing. Young women and men mingled and gathered in different spots.

It was odd how there were more women then men. And just how fancy the women looked compared to the men.

“Señors and señoritas, the man of the hour, Romero!” Romero announced from atop the staircase. The girls all gathered and applauded him at the bottom of the staircase. Aunt Luisa gently nudged Anita into the swarming mass and tried to swim out as best she could. No such kind of luck was smiling at her tonight. 

Romero wore his uniform, being in the army now, and waved down at the women. As soon as his eyes met Anita’s, he winked. Anita huffed and looked away. He slid down the banister before falling off the end. Everyone gasped, keeping silent as he pulled himself up.

But Anita couldn’t hold her loud boisterous laughter much longer.

“Yes, yes, that was funny. It’s okay to laugh!” Romero said, trying to make up for the embarrassment. A few people laughed.

“Anita!” Aunt Luisa hissed

“It was funny.” Anita said, crossing her arms. If she had to stay here, she may as well find something interesting.

She could tell. This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

When a person is stuck in an uncomfortable situation, they’re called “a fish out of water”. When a fish is stuck out of water, it should probably be called an “Anita at a party”. Awkward and uncomfortable can not even begin to describe how she was feeling. How she wished to be a turtle and hide in her shell.

Everyone was flirting, laughing, talking, and dancing to the music from the band. But at this time of night, Anita was on her fifth plate of arroz con pollo. Every time Aunt Luisa urged her to mingle, Anita would stand, walk around the room without breaking eye contact with Aunt Luisa, then sit back down. 

When a high strung boy came over in attempt to flirt with her, Anita would threaten him with a fork at his throat. Because after the first time, her knife was taken away. The constant scolding of Aunt Luisa droned on to become background noise.

All in all, everything was going well. Until the birthday boy decided to visit her table.

“Señorita Sanchez, what an honor it is to have you here.” Romero bowed down before her, holding his hand out. He stood frozen, waiting for her to put her hand in his.

“Hey Rome.” Anita said coldly. She heard Aunt Luisa groan next to her. Romero stammered then pulled up a chair next to Anita. His air of playful foolishness evaporated, replaced by something… Slimier.

“The years have certainly changed you. Once the little ragamuffin running barefoot around the town, to this upscale beauty before me.” Romero said, “Such wonderful grooming. And now, thanks to your cousin, such great title.”

Anita felt sick to her stomach. She glanced around the room. Every single girl glared at her, hating her for getting all of the attention from Romero. Anita looked down at her plate and pushed her chicken around in the rice with her fork. A warm arm was lowered around her shoulders.

“Excuse me.” She said, trying to stand. Romero held her down.

“Why would you want to leave? This party is just getting started.” He said. Anita slammed her fists on the table. The ambient whispers and music were silenced.

“If you want a hand, instead of a hook, you will remove your arm from around me.” Anita growled

“Why so testy?” Romero asked

“Perhaps it’s cause she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” She heard a girl whisper. Several started laughing with the first. Anita turned and glared. It was the kind of glare she gave bulls before killing them. The girls hid behind their fans in fear.

“Anita, don’t do or say anything rash.” Aunt Luisa whispered, putting a soft hand on top of one of her fists.

“After all of that training to become what you are, you still haven’t learned your place.” Romero said

Anita stood up suddenly, pushing Romero off his chair.

“How dare you say that to me!” She yelled

“Anita!” Aunt Luisa scolded. Anita looked down and noticed her drink spilled all over her dress. She groaned and excused herself to the washroom. From the basin, she dabbed water over the stain with a washcloth.

“Stupid Rome. Stupid, stupid, Romero.” She whispered, before she started scrubbing. She looked up at herself in the mirror, and threw the washcloth at her reflection.

The washroom had two doors. It was odd, but not without purpose. Anita heard as the door she came in from was locked from the outside. She sighed and tried pushing the door open, jiggling the doorknob. With no choice, she opened the second door, to a bedroom. With Romero.

“I always liked you.” He said, taking his coat off. “I thought you were always pretty when you wore those dresses.”

“Could have fooled me.” Anita said, trying to pull the door in his room open. It was locked, too.

“I know how much I made fun of you, but as they say, boys will be boys. We hurt because we like.” Romero pulled his shirt off.

“Boys should be held accountable for their actions.” Anita said

“You are not like the other girls out there. What would I give to have a woman like you on my arm.” Romero was coming up behind Anita. She elbowed him in the nose. He fell back onto his bed holding his bleeding nose.

“Welł, you’re right about one thing. I’m not like the other girls.” Anita said, turning around. “Other girls are kittens, puppies, or calm lambs. Me? I’m a bull. Always ready to charge!” She stomped up to him.

“Then charge at me, and marry me!” Romero said, the snake standing and pulling Anita into a forceful and rough kiss. The second she felt his tongue force its way into her mouth, Anita bit down, hard. Romero yelled and pushed her away, ripping the dress at her shoulder. 

“Don’t you touch me! Don’t you DARE touch me!!” She yelled before she turned to her side to spit out blood. She growled and ran at Romero.

Romero ducked. Anita launched herself off of his bed and out the window. She rolled on the ground and lost her wig. But she grabbed it hastily and put it back on. Romero looked out the window shocked.

“You insulted me and my father when I was a child, and then pull a stunt like this?!” Anita yelled at him

“But I like you!” Romero said, defensively.

“Stay away from me!” Anita yelled before running through the streets to her home. She ran to her room and pulled her ruined dress and wig off to wear her Junie outfit. She climbed out her window and left to the local bar.

“Junie Sanchez. What are you doing here?” Said Pedro, the bartender.

“Ugh, I need the strongest stuff you have.” Junie groaned, taking a seat at the bar.

“Heh, you shaved!” Pedro pointed out. “You look like your cousin!”

Damn it Pedro.

“No. Anita is a strong woman. And I’m…” Junie said before sighing and rubbing his forehead. Pedro’s smile slowly vanished as he slid a bottle of tequila in front of the young man.

“Must have been some girl to do this to you.” He said. Junie looked at his reflection and sighed once more.

“Yeah.” He whispered. He tipped the bottom up to chug the tequila down in gulps. It had a sour taste. He had to get rid of the night. Wipe the slate clean. And if that took an entire tequila bottle, then so be it.

“Good evening Junie.” Came Anton as he sat down beside Junie. “ how long has it been since I’ve seen you in this bar? One year? Two?”

“I’m twenty-one, not seventy. I’m not in the mood for this Mendoza.” Junie said

“How was that party?” Anton said before he took the bottle to take a few sips,

“Not good.” Pedro said

“As disgusting as the hands that grabbed me.” Junie said. Anton thrust a hand over his mouth to stop the spit that nearly projected out.

“Dang hombre! You’d think it would be fun for us guys, but it’s not! It’s not!” Pedro said. Junie let his head lie on the counter. Anton moved the bottle in front of Junie. He looked up at it, his chin resting against the counter. The necklace Anita had given Anton was wrapped around the neck.

Maybe it was the tequila, maybe it was just the night in general, but Junie started crying and hanging onto Anton.

“How could anyone be so disgusting? How could Aunt Luisa make me go there, and go through with that?! I don’t care if someone has a title or not! I just want to be with the one I love!” He cried

“This is a little weird now.” Pedro said

“It will be alright.” Anton said, patting Junie’s back. Junie pulled away to start drinking more tequila.

“I feel like this all started once papa died. This pressure to live a life I didn’t want, while trying to live the one I loved in secret.” Junie said, “And why did I even go? Why do I try to get Aunt Luisa’s acceptance? She has a lot of love, but a lot of hate, too.”

“Sometimes you’ve just gotta, gotta go with what the heart wants, man.” Pedro commented

“It’s not that easy.” Junie said

After that, the night went by in a blur, thanks to the tequila. Anton made sure her role as Junie didn’t slip. Anita remembered Junie crying about Jorge and how much he missed him, running out of the bar to throw the empty bottle at Romero’s house, and throwing up in front of the señors house. 

She woke up in the stables, next to Chamuco. She was still dressed as Junie. Chamuco shook his head, looking down at her from his stall. A hand immediately held her head.

“Shut up, boy. You’re too loud.” She said, pulling herself up onto her feet. The front door suddenly burst open. The sudden sound made Anita fall back down.

“Anita are you here?” Aunt Luisa asked

“Yes?” Anita said, before clearing her throat.

“Anita?” Aunt Luisa asked, looking at her.

“Yes?” Junie said, getting his voice back and standing up.

“Oh, Junie. You’re here.” Aunt Luisa, “You should get ready. You have a fight today.” Junie let himself fall back down.

“Gracias.” He said

Chapter Text

“I am going to die.” Junie said, coming out of the chapel dressed and ready.

“You are not.” Aunt Luisa said, grabbing his arm. She suddenly got a whiff of his breath and crinkled her nose. The smell of tequila clung to him. It was sickening.

“But after the fight,” she said, “you need to clean yourself up.”

“That was good tequila.” Junie muttered

His headache was slowly fading away. But when the sun hit his eyes, it came roaring back with the cheering crowds that applauded him as he entered the arena. He stopped, pulling Aunt Luisa with him, just at the entrance.

“You know I love bullfighting.” He said. “But, please, can we cancel this one? I’m not in the mood.” Aunt Luisa pulled his shoulder down and grabbed his face.

“Well, mijo,” she said, “I’m not in the mood to look for Anita after the debacle last night.” She lightly pushed him away. Junie looked curiously at Aunt Luisa.

“What… What happened last night?” He asked, suddenly looking away.

“We were at a fiesta. I thought it would be good for her, but it was an embarrassment.” She explained. “That girl is nothing but a disappointment.”

It felt like a knife stabbing her heart.

Anita had to keep her facade. And despite the criticism, Aunt Luisa’s words helped sober her up. He walked into the arena, leaving Aunt Luisa behind. Looking up, he saw the booth that Romero and his family sat in.

A pretty girl was sitting next to him. They looked happy. Romero looked away, missing the annoyed scowl on the girl’s painted face. As soon as he looked back at her, that smile as sweet as chocolate flowed easily back on her lips. Romero looked at Junie and seemed uncomfortable under his stare. Junie turned his attention back tothe audience.

“I would like to dedicate this corrida to somebody very special!” He yelled, “Somebody who attended a grand fiesta last night.” Romero started to smile, and look proud of himself. “Anita Sanchez, my cousin, who Romero tried to take to bed!” The crowds were silenced. Romero started wriggling in his seat. His date looked shocked. “She didn’t want to be here today. She ran away. She RAN AWAY because she didn’t want to see HIS DISGUSTING PIG FACE AGAIN!” 

Aunt Luisa put her hands up to cover her mouth. The guilt and disgust were clear upon her face. Everyone was whispering and sending disgusted looks towards Romero, who could do nothing but shrink in his seat. His date was long gone. Junie would have smiled if he wasn’t so angry.

“So, dear sweet Anita Sanchez, wherever you may be now,” Junie said, “this corrida is for you. May you conquer many bulls. There’s a lot of fight left in you.” The bull was released into the ring.”The aftermath is secondary.” Junie pulled his cape off of his shoulder and began circling around the arena with the bull matching his footsteps. People began pounding on their seats, chanting “na na na na na na na”.

The bull suddenly started rearing and jumping until charging towards him. Junie was startled and backed away. He spun around to let the bull charge past, but it turned itself around quickly. Junie ducked and ran away until the bull finally got past him, but not without letting a horn slice into his side, drops of blood falling onto the sand.

“Mierda!” Junie yelled, pushing his back against the wooden wall. He pulled his hand up from his side. Blood coated it. Junie jumped up onto the bull but was knocked off, hitting the ground hard.

“No. No!” Aunt Luisa yelled

Junie stood. The bull collided with him, head on, hitting the matador right between the horns. Junie yelled, tumbling head over heels backwards. The bull ran towards him and reared up, stomping a hoof onto Junie’s back. Everyone in the audience was terrified for the boy.

Junie rolled out from under the bull and limped up against the wall. He fell down against it. The bull was looking at him. The audience started stomping their feet in the ground to get it’s attention, chanting “na na na na, na na na, na na na na’s”.

“Junie! Get up!” Aunt Luisa yelled

Junie rolled over to see Aunt Luisa. She looked scared. Everything was hurting, but he had to finish this match. He pushed himself to stand up. The bull walked around the arena, looking at the audience. Huffing and snorting, blood staining it’s horns.

“Right here, and right now, all the way in San Angel,” Junie said, “little orphans, raise their open filthy palms, like tiny daggers up to heaven. And all the soldiers, and the gutter rats,” he looked up at Romero, as he finally made it on his feet, “ask angels made from clay and butcher garbage, scream out! What will save us! And the sky opened up.” Junie looked from Romero to Aunt Luisa.

“Everybody wants to change the world. Everybody wants to change the world, but no one,” Aunt Luisa sang, “no one wants to die.”

“I wanna try.” Junie repeated, looking forward at the bull, who finally focused on him.

Junie held out his cape as it charged forward. When it was close enough, he slammed the fabric into its horns and tangled it up, pulling it around the ring and making it crash into the wall. He forced the bulls horns into the ground. The sudden movements made it fall over, struggling to get back up. Everyone in the arena kept chanting their “na na na na na na’s”.

“Make no apology,” Junie sang, limping to Aunt Luisa for the sword.

“It’s death or victory,” he held the sword at eye level, watching the bull finally stand up. 

“On my authority! Crash and burn, young and loaded!” Junie swung it around, ignoring the pain in his side that begged him to stop. The bull started coming straight at him.

“Drop like a bullet shell,” his swinging sword cut its face and gouged an eye, “Just like a sleeper cell,” Junie stepped to the side, the horns grazed over the same spot, cutting deeper into his skin and muscles. It came back around.

“I’d rather go to hell!” He stabbed his sword downward into the bulls neck. “Than be in a purgatory!” He lifted up his sword and stabbed it down, again, and again, “Cut my hair, gag and bore me. Pull this pin, let this world explode!” 

Junie panted and held his bleeding side. Things were looking fuzzy around him, and the ground felt unstable. Everyone was shocked. And Junie swore he heard Aunt Luisa screaming his name. Junie turned his eyes up to the booth where Romero was.

“Rome. Romero!” Junie yelled. “ROMERO POSADA!”

Romero stood up at his seat. Junie took his sword out of the bull and flung it as hard and as high as he could. Romero ducked as the metal impaled itself on the wooden chair. Just where his head was. Junie was long gone by the time he looked down.

Anton ran through the arena’s halls. He expected to find Anita in the chapel. Aunt Luisa was pacing in front of Carmelo’s portrait, instead. He walked inside. Aunt Luisa looked hopeful, then saddened.

“Where’s Junie?” Anton asked

“I was a fool.” Aunt Luisa whispered

Anton sighed and ran off. He made it outside just in time to see Chamuco ride off, a lump of a person clinging to his mane. Junie knew he couldn’t stay here. His secret will be known. No one is ready for that yet. 

He coughed a wet cough. Just how much blood has he lost? The bull took a good portion of his left abdomen, just below his ribs. He could breathe pretty easy. A lung wasn’t injured, thankfully. He heard hoof beats coming after him. Junie glanced back to see Anton on his own horse.

“Junie, stop! We need to see a doctor!” Anton said, coming up next to him.

“They can’t know. Nobody can.” Junie said, exhausted.

“Anita. Please.” Anton begged

“No. No! No no no!” Junie said, burying his face in Chamuco’s mane. Anton reached over and grabbed the mane, pulling it back to stop the horse. They were near the end of the dock. Chamuco reared up when he was stopped.

Junie slid off of his back and into the lake. Things were getting even fuzzier. Hands that were reaching down to help him resembled dark wings. Wings Anita had seen as a shadow cast by moonlight. The feather necklace gently floated from beneath his shirt up in front of him. 

Junie’s eyes closed, falling into the sweet embrace of darkness.

Chapter Text

She heard music, cheering. Happiness. But it sounded distant.

Anita opened her eyes slowly, squinting in the light. Outside the window was a swirling golden sun in a dark sky. A single candle rested on the windowsill.

She felt great. Amazing, actually. Like she could go up against that bull again. She stood up from the bed she was lying in and noticed a small beside table with two candles blown out on it.

A knock rang out from the single door in the room. Just one. Anita tilted her head to the side and slowly approached it. The door swung open, and her jaw hit the floor.

“Whoa.” Anita whispered

A beautiful place unlike anything Anita had ever seen before stood outside. Papel picado floated in the air, music played all around, people were cheering and celebrating.

“I have a feeling I’m not in San Angel anymore.” She said

When Anita reached a hand outside the doorway, she froze.

Skin and flesh peeled away to show a bony hand with small designs carved along it. When pulled back, it returned to normal. She did this again. As she turned her hand, it moved as she willed it to. It wasn’t painful, just jarring. With feet planted firmly inside the jamb, Anita took a deep breath and leaned her head outside the door. She felt her face, the bone had its own carvings that she could feel.

Anita pulled herself back in new stepped away from the doorway. She had a hunch about it and the enchanted land that it led to. If she set foot outside of this room, leaving it behind, she would be a full skeleton in that paradise with no worries about pain or pressures of life and living.

Anita raised her foot.

Something was stopping her.

She put it back down and pulled herself back into the room. Pulling the door closed. She stepped back until she felt the bed behind her. Why was she here? What was this place? Is she alive?

Another knock at the door, but this time, Anita heard voices from outside. Two. A man and a woman. Footsteps retreated.

The door gave way.

It looked like a skeleton, in a dress, was standing just outside the door. She looked surprised to see Anita up. But the hair, the necklace and earrings. Something about the calaca seemed so familiar. When it looked at her and smiled, Anita knew.

She knew that smile anywhere. No matter how long it had been.

“Mama? Is that you?” She asked. She was shushed, a bony hand placed on her lips. 

“Mija. How tall you’ve grown.” Sandra said

Anita wrapped her arms around her mother, lifting her up and spinning her around. Sandra laughed as Anita put her back down.

“And how strong, too!” Another skeleton laughed, placing a hand on Anita’s shoulder.

”Papa!” She said. She felt like she was crying, but it was hard to feel anything.

“Rest now, mijita.” Came the gruff voice. “You had a great corrida. And, you’ll have a great scar from being stomped on! Right on your back!” She felt him pat a spot below her right shoulder. “You did good.” Anita looked to her right over her shoulder.

“I missed you both.” Anita said, close to tears. Her dead parents smiled at her. Anita reached her arms out to pull them into a hug. She didn’t know how long this meeting would last, but she wanted to make it last. And remember every second of it.

They were gone from her life too soon. How much she could have used their advice, their comfort, their support. Instead of settling for Aunt Luisa. How much had she grown since their deaths. Sandra and Carmelo lightly pulled out of Anita’s arms. Carmelo rubbed at the tears in his eyes, his bottom lip quivering.

“It’s been so long! And you look so beautiful and strong!” Carmelo cried. Sandra gently lifted Anita’s chin with a chuckle.

“That she did Carmelo.” She said, “But…” Her smile slowly was fading away. “We do have a pressing matter to discuss.” Carmelo vigorously rubbed his leaking eyes and nodded his head in agreement. Both of them then leaned in closer to Anita, who was both curious and concerned with what this meant for her.

“We do not have a lot of time here.” Her mother said, taking a seat on the bed.

“What do you mean?” Anita asked, sitting next to her mother. Carmelo and Sandra shared a concerned look. It was the kind of look parents shared when they were silently arguing who should tell their child their dog died. Carmelo pulled away first.

“You lost a lot of blood, mi bebita.” Carmelo said sadly

“This is not my wish of how you die.” Sandra said

“It’s mine!” Carmelo said, sitting on Anita’s other side and laughing. Sandra gave him a horrible glare that made his glowing yellow eyes dart around the empty room. Anita chuckled before the glare was turned on her. 

“But, no. Until you were older.” Carmelo said, nodding his head, “Much older. Live long, die gloriously… Not until you’re older.”

“The point is,” Sandra started, stopping her husband’s rambling, “if you want to live, you need to be strong.” Sandra began running her fingers through Anita’s hair.

“I am strong.” Anita said

“Mi chiquita bebita Anita, you need to be stronger than ever before. Be a Sanchez.” Carmelo said, his hand on his daughters cheek. It felt as warm and rough as she remembered it.

“But I am strong! I… I want to stay here… With you two.” Anita said, “No worries, fiestas with the both of you.” 

“Anita.” Carmelo said. “My greatest regret was dying young. I couldn’t raise you and Jorge. Don’t miss living your life for the dead. If not for yourself, than at least for your mama and me.” Anita nodded with a smile, a few tears in her eyes. He and Sandra hugged their daughter from both sides, then stood up.

“We both love you and Jorge so very, very much. Should he ever come home, take care of him. He misses you dearly.” Sandra said, as both her and Carmelo pulled away.

“And that Mendoza boy. Not bad!” He said. Anita rubbed away at the last of her tears.

“Gracias, papa.” She replied

“But you have to wake up now.” Carmelo whispered

“What?” Anita asked

“Wake up.” Her parents whispered, “Wake up.”

The sun shining outside of the window was brighter than before, overpowering the moon side and getting brighter with every second. Anita squinted and squeezed her eyes shut.

She gasped a breath of fresh air and slowly opened her eyes. Everything was hurting again. As she tried to push herself up, a hand held her left shoulder down. She looked over and saw Anton.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” He said

Was it a dream? Could it have been called a dream? Anita glanced around her from the bed. It was like the room from her “dream”. But it didn’t have any candles.

And it didn’t have her parents.

She pulled her shirt up over the left side over her body. She felt a twinge below her shoulder on the right side of her back. That’s where the bull stomped her. Carmelo said she would have a scar there. She did feel more bandages wrapped there as well.

Bandages were mostly wrapped around the spot that was gored. While she wanted to pull them off to see the stitches, she knew it was probably best for her not to do just that. There were more pressing matters anyway.

“Where am I?” She asked

“Gutierrez ranch.” Anton answered. “Guillermo was able to fix you up. And he swore not to tell anybody.”

“Guillermo? The bull doctor?” Anita asked

“Hey!” Came a voice from the door. “You try pulling off an operation on a bull with no anesthetic used, at all. Bullfighting is nothing compared to sewing up a gored bull while it tries to gore you!”

Guillermo was a big guy. He wore small glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t just a bull doctor, but he mainly was the Gutierrez to maintain the health of the stock. He also was a master of patching up ranch hands when the bulls get to them, too.

“Thank you, Guillermo.” Anton said

“When will I be able to fight bulls again?” Anita asked, sitting back up. Anton pushed her back down. Anita slapped his hand away and sat back up.

“It should take a few weeks to heal, maybe a month. I’d suggest staying here and not doing anything, like fighting any bulls, in the meantime.” Guillermo said. Anita groaned and let herself fall onto the bed. Guillermo was about to leave, but stopped.

“Remember our deal, Mendoza.” He said, before disappearing out of the doorway.

“And whose soul did you sell to keep me alive?” Anita slowly asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I need to make a wig for him.” Anton explained. “He’s too embarrassed to get it himself.” Anita laughed. It started small, then grew and built up to be loud enough, Anton couldn’t resist joining in. Anita stopped holding her side and hissing in pain.

“Shouldn’t laugh too hard.” Anton said

“Now you tell me.” Anita threw her hands in the air, letting them fall and hang off of the bed. Anton reached to hold one, but Anita pulled them up onto her chest.

“What am I going to do?” She sighed

“Relax. For once, somebody else is taking care of you.” Anton said, Anita looked at him.

“What about your family?” She asked

“I’m not staying here.” Anton held his hands up defensively. Anita smiled.

“Of course you won’t.” She said. Smile chunk in the air between them. But Anton understood. This was a lot to process, anyway. Anita turned her head to look at him.

“I have a scar on my back.” She said

“Yes, Anita.” Anton responded

“Do you want to see it?” She asked

“No Anita.” He replied

“You’re no fun.” Anita huffed

Chapter Text

Life was simpler at the ranch. While not without the work and chores required for growing animals and crops, it was calm and peaceful. When Anita was finally allowed to walk, she explored the place she had rarely visited.

Bulls were delivered to the ring twice a month. If there was any issue or a new order was needed, that was when they had to go to the ranch to check on the stock. Aunt Luisa mostly handled the affairs, while Anita preferred killing them. But she did like walking to the pen where the bulls roamed.

It was strange to see them so calm. She vaguely wondered what it took to get one mad. If they weren’t inherently mad, then how were they made to be such beasts? One came over to see her, then it reared back to slam it’s horns into the wooden fence, making Anita fall back in shock.

“Now that’s a bull!” She exclaimed. A hand picked her up, fussing over the wounds. It was hurting like a bee sting, but not a big one. At least, that was what she said about her side. As soon as she returned to her room, she screamed in pain for the hoof print on her back.

True to his word, Anton was visiting her as often as he could. Not just to see her. Some people were getting sick in town. A few have already died. A strange illness like a plague was sweeping through the street. When Anita worried about Aunt Luisa, she arrived at the ranch, giving Anita little time to make herself into Junie. It was easier said than done.

“When do you think you’ll be fighting bulls again?” She asked. Guillermo walked back over, putting his arm around Junie.

“He’ll be ready to fight sometime in the next few weeks. I just removed the stitches.” He said

“They were gross.” Junie laughed. Guillermo messed with Junie’s hair and left the two alone. Aunt Luisa smiled, but it was a facade. She cleared her throat and looked away.

“Have… Have you heard anything… From Anita?” She asked, slowly turning to Junie. He bit his lower lip and looked away, too.

“No. No, I haven’t.” He said

“I should have known not to trust a Posada man.” Aunt Luisa said

A silence hung in the air. Should he tell her? Was now the time? Would she get mad? What should he do? Aunt Luisa put her hands on his face, surprising him.

“Mijo… Just… get well soon.” She said. Junie nodded and walked away. Aunt Luisa was curious about the black marks on her hand. Was Junie dying his mustache?

The guilt and sadness that tore Junie up made Anita cry as she put herself to sleep that night. She didn’t know why, but she did. Maybe Junie should stay at the ranch, retire. 

After Aunt Luisa’s visit, days crawled along at a snails pace. Anton hadn’t visited her in some time. She could use some words of wisdom at this point.

The thought of retiring still hung in her mind. But, no. Papa didn’t retire after the first time he was gored. But at the same time, he wasn’t dealing with the stress of being a woman pretending to be a man. Anita chuckled at the thought. He’d make a fun woman.

When she was stronger, a week after Aunt Luisa’s visit, she started helping out the ranch hands with some tasks. Mostly sweeping and cleaning. Nothing too arduous because Guillermo didn’t want any stress on her wounds. Anita felt his eyes watching her all the time

A call from the main house went out to the farm. Romero was looking for Junie. Everyone stepped to trying to stop him, abandoning Anita by the bullpen.

A slap of mud on his face made for a good temporary mustache. A ranch hand retrieved a sword, handing it off to Junie before running away. He held onto it, praying it was unnecessary. Romero found him by the bull pen.

“Señor Sanchez.” He said, with all the pomp he could muster. He had a hand on the hilt of the sword that hung at his side. Junie glanced at him.

“Rome.” He said, leaning on the fence. He turned to watch the bulls.

“What great stock, here.” Romero commented

“Si, I see the family resemblance.” Junie said with a smirk. Romero growled. He grabbed Junie’s arm roughly. He raised an eyebrow.

“Is this what they’re teaching their soldiers now?” Junie asked

“You insulted my family and my honor at that corrida of yours.” Romero said. “You have ruined my name here in San Angel!” Junie grabbed his arm.

“Then maybe you should leave this town!” Junie said. Next to the house was Guillermo, his family and the ranch hands. Junie shook his head.

“They’re out to get you, better leave while you can,” Junie sang slowly, “Don’t wanna be a boy, you wanna be a man.”

He forced Romero’s arm upwards, towards his face. It happened too fast before he could react. Romero was punched in the nose with his own hand.

“You wanna stay alive, better do what you can. So beat it, just beat it.” Junie rubbed at the spot Romero held his arm. Romero leaned against the fence, holding his nose.

This was pathetic. Romero was pathetic. 

“How dare you!” Romero shouted. Junie shook his head. A ghost of a smirk faintly shown on Junie’s lips. He pointed at Romero and continued.

“You have to show them that you’re really not scared
You’re playin’ with your life, this ain’t no truth or dare.”

Romero wasn’t even worth Junie’s time.

“They’ll kick you, then they beat you, then they’ll tell you it’s fair. So beat it,”

Junie turned his back on Romero, picking up the sword that was left to the side. There was the sound of sliding metal behind him. Junie darted to the right. Romero’s sword crashed into the ground where Junie once stood.

“But you wanna be bad!” He sang faster

With a shout, Romero raised his sword to strike again. Junie raised his sword to defend himself.

“Just beat it! Beat it!” They sliced and slashed at each other, but couldn’t touch skin. 

“No one wants to be defeated!” The two were equally skilled swordsmen. 

“Showin’ how funky strong is your fight,” Their blades collided and they pushed against each other. “It doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right, just beat it!” Junie took one step forward, “just beat it,” he took another step, much to Romero’s pain, “just beat it, just beat it. Beat it beat it beat it BEAT IT!”

“You can’t beat me! I’ve been trained by the greatest swordsman from Spain!” Romero yelled, trying to push back, “I am a soldier, and you are a petty matador!”

“You call yourself a soldier, but try to stab a man in the back?” Junie asked through grit teeth.

“There is no honor in making me a disgrace, so you deserve an honor less death!” Romero said loudly.

“Tell that to Anita, you HIJO DE PUTA!” Junie yelled, swinging an arm around to punch Romero in the face. The soldier fell to the ground flat on his back. Junie picked him up by his hair and slammed his face into the fence, over and over again.

“There is NO HONOR In treating a woman as a LESSER BEING, and NO HONOR IN HAVING YOUR WAY WITH HER! Here is a lesson Posada. If a girl doesn’t say yes, then she says NO!” Junie said before throwing Romero to the ground. His face was a bloodied mess. Romero was a child, and he had to learn a lesson. The hard way. 

Romero pulled himself up, leaning on the fence. Junie sneered at him, wiping his hands off on his shirt. He turned away for just a moment.

“You think you’re something? Sanchez.” Romero said. When Junie looked back, Romero spat spit and blood in his face. Junie didn’t flinch. “You’re nothing but a freak. With a pitiable existence.”

“There’s something I heard of called Karma.” Junie said, “It means what goes around comes around. So,” he kicked the spot in between Romero’s legs as hard as he could, “may your actions and punishments come back around to bite you in the culo.”

“Junie!” Anton yelled. Junie saw him by the house. He looked shocked. Did he watch everything? Junie turned and pulled up Romero by his coat.

“Get out.” He said lowly, dropping Romero. He picked up both his and Romero’s swords, carrying them to Anton. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Before you say a single word, I think I have just proven that I’m fit enough to take you down. And honestly, after all of that, I feel like I can fight a thousand bulls at once. I’m strong, and I can fight.” Junie said. Anton still wore the same shocked expression that Junie spotted.

“My mother died.” He said

All fight in Junie vanished. His heart broke. He handed Guillermo the swords and, pulling Anton with him, retreated into the house to find his room. They sat on the bed, and began crying. Junie’s tears peeled the mustache off of his face. Anton rubbed her face to rid it of the remains.

They hugged and held each other. For the first time, they felt the same thing at the same time. Unsure of what to do now and what they will do in the future. Life is so complicated, and as the saying goes “the best laid plans of mice and man too often go astray”.

Chapter Text

The ceremony was small, simple. It killed Anita, knowing that she couldn’t be there for her boyfriend. She had to keep the illusion.

Junie watched everything unfold from a safe distance. While Anton cried, his father was a stone wall. But the sadness was clear on his face. Afterwards Junie returned home, much to the joy of Aunt Luisa.

“Junie!” Aunt Luisa said, hugging the boy.

You would think that when you come back home, things would be as they were when you left. Pieces would be picked up and all would go back to “normal”.

Junie felt… Off. Empty. A part of him was yearning for the peace of the ranch. For the warmth of Anton’s arms around him.

For the smile of his brother.

“Junie! Pay attention!” Aunt Luisa yelled

He looked up at his Aunt from the ring. She suddenly looked worried. Junie sighed and shook his head.

”What’s wrong?” She asked. She had learned her lesson, after all.

“I… I just don’t feel like bullfighting right now.” He said

“Is it because of the corrida?” Aunt Luisa asked, walking down the aisles to the fence.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Junie sighed, walking out of the arena. The cape was dropped by the entrance.

“Where are you going?” Aunt Luisa asked

“Out.” Junie replied

”Junie…” Aunt Luisa paused, thinking of the right words, “… Be safe, mijo.” With a final nod, he left.

His walk through town had him avoiding Casa Posada and, unfortunately, Casa Mendoza. As much as he wished to be with Anton, he just wanted some time alone. But amongst people, too. It was confusing. He didn’t know what else to do. 

He considered returning home to change into a regular outfit, but Junie kept to the shadows instead. His traje de luces certainly lived up to its name. The lights that were reflected were getting on his nerves now. He stopped, standing at the edge of the market.

He watched families and vendors mingle and talk amongst themselves. Everyone was happy. Smiling, cheerful in the bright sunny day. Nobody noticed Junie. Those rare few that did smiled at him, amazed at his survival. He was a strong Sanchez, after all. 

Anton wandered through, a group of orphans followed like ducklings in a row. Junie ducked behind a cart and watched. Though Anton’s smile was as bright as the sun, Junie could see it was fake.

The children tugged on his arms and tried to spin him around. After a couple attempts they succeeded. It soon became obvious who was really leading whom around town. Junie smiled for a moment. With another sigh he moved on, still keeping to the shadows.

A few flowers growing from cracks in the ground or near animal pens were plucked by the boy. Junie wandered up to the church yard, and walked amongst the graves. He laid most of the flowers in a bouquet on top of Mrs. Mendoza’s grave.

The last flower, a marigold, was placed on the grave of Carmelo. Junie lowered himself to his knees. He looked between the graves of his parents.

“Mama and papa. It’s been some time since we’ve talked. I wish we could talk again. You told me to be strong. And I keep saying that I am. But… I feel so weak now. I feel weak and I hate it!” Junie said to the grave. “I’ve fought many corridas before this one. But after my first goring, I just… I don’t know. I need to be strong, but I’m tired… I’m tired…” Tears began rolling down his cheek, messing up his fake mustache. “I just don’t know.”

“How strange. A crying matador. I never thought I’d see the day.” Came a voice from behind him. Junie rubbed off the rest of his mustache. May as well face the stranger as Anita.

It was an old soldier with a long beard, a messed up mustache and a huge, ugly nose. The surprise on his face morphed into disgust. To him, it was a young girl with dirt smudging her face wearing a matador costume.

“Oh, just one of those orphans.” He said

”Excuse you?” Anita shot back

”Is your hearing as old as that suit?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Least I’m not falling apart like you, old man.” Anita said. The man chuckled darkly. “What are you doing here?”

“I just heard the cries of somebody who wants to be stronger.” The man said

Yeah, that sounded about right. Anita glanced behind her at her father’s grave. But this man. Something felt off about him. She looked back at him. A grave behind him made it look like he had dark wings.

“What’s it to you?” Anita asked

“I just might have a way of helping you.” The man pulled out a medal. It was a bright green and black. Several metal points stuck out of the heart shape surrounding a skull. It looked like it would hurt just to touch.

“A medal?” Anita questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, this is no ordinary medal. Whosever wears it can not be killed, and would be given great courage.” The man fiddled with the medal before holding it out to Anita.

“What’s the catch?” She asked

“No catch. Just enjoy the life you live with this.” The man said. Anita swore she saw a flash of red shine in his eyes.

She reached for the medal.

She could survive every bullfight, every goring. To have a chance to live a life and not be afraid of death. This was everything Anita could have ever wanted!

So why was she hesitating?

Her hand hovered over the medal as a strange feeling prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Something was wrong about the whole situation. This strange man. She looked down at her hand.

“No. No thank you.” She said, pulling back. The man was shocked.

“W-what? You denied… Basically immortality?!” He asked. Anita gathered her courage. The emptiness slowly faded.

“This life I live is mine,” Anita explained, a smirk playing on her lips, “and I choose to live it on my terms. Without a crutch a slimy old man gives me. I’ll be afraid to die, but I’ll be alive.” She started to walk away.

“How dare you!” The man bellowed, pushing Anita to the ground. She fell and turned around. The man looked a bit more fearsome than before.

“How dare you insult me!” He yelled.

His anger faded when he caught sight of Anita’s necklace. The black feather. He took a step backwards, pointing at it.

“Where did you get that?” He asked

“I found it. It flew down from the sky after my first bullfight.” Anita picked up the feather and looked at it. Her smile slowly grew at the memory. 

A gust of wind kicked up the sandy earth making Anita close her eyes. When she opened them, the man was gone.

Xibalba appeared on the church tower, watching the girl. How did she get one of his feathers?! Did she earn his favor? Did she owe him a favor? Was he so careless to leave a feather behind? He didn’t remember this human. She couldn’t have stolen a feather from him. Maybe she inherited it?

Perhaps it was just a regular crow feather and he was overreacting. Humans lie. Finding it after a bullfight? The only birds that fly at night are owls. But that was not an owl feather.

Whatever.

Yeah, he was just overreacting.

But she still didn’t want his medal. So much for having fun and watching her mind be consumed by the strength of the medal.

Anita walked out of the cemetery with a smile on her face.

This was her life to live, however she wanted. And the thrills and fears make it great! She was afraid during her first corrida, she’s been afraid of them since, and she’ll be afraid of all others yet to come. That’s what happens when you’re a matador. But that doesn’t mean she should hide away like before. 

She watched Anton from a distance as he returned home. She circled around his home to his room, knocking on his window. Anton poked his head out and was surprised by Anita kissing him.

”Te amo, Anton Mandoza.” She said

She ran through San Angel feeling like her old self again. Anita even felt the urge to climb on rooftops! She climbed back into her room and looked in her closet.

Which one to wear?

Aunt Luisa sighed. As frustrating as it was to have to raise and deal with Anita’s shenanigans, she missed the young woman fiercely.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a knocking at the front door.

“Coming! Coming, now what-” Aunt Luisa said, opening the door. Anita smiled. She watched as her aunt covered her mouth, tears coming out of her eyes.

“I’m back.” Anita said

Aunt Luisa wrapped her arms around Anita, slowly, carefully. Like if she did it tighter, Anita would shatter. Anita hugged her back, tears welling up in her eyes.

“You will never see that Posada boy again.” Aunt Luisa said

“Thank you!” Anita cried, bawling into her Aunt’s arms.

This was what she needed. This was all that she needed.

At least for right now.

If only this peace and joy lasted longer than a month…

Chapter Text

“Paris? A letter from Paris?” Anita asked, looking at the item in question. “Who or what is in Paris?” She opened it to see who it was from. “Apparently Jorge.” Aunt Luisa looked up from her book.

“Jorge is in Paris? I thought his last letter placed him in Panploma.” She asked from her chair. Anita took a seat on the couch.

“He was invited to perform, like in Italy.” Anita smiled, “He loves it. It’s beautiful.” She finally opened up the box that came with the letter. It had a small bottle inside of it. A perfume from Italy. She uncorked the top, the smell of roses wafting in the air. Anita brought the bottle to Aunt Luisa who smiled at the scent.

“Beautiful. With such lavishing gifts, I wonder if he found someone to call his own yet.” Aunt Luisa asked

“Aunt Luisa!” Anita scolded playfully, placing the bottle on the table next to Aunt Luisa’s chair. Some of the liquid scent sprung out and splashed on her hand.

“What? What’d I say?” Aunt Luisa asked with a smile. Anita smiled, shaking her head. Looking up at the clock, she realized Junie had to get ready for practice. Aunt Luisa noticed the time, too.

“Can I read that book?” Anita asked

“Absolutely. Whatever you’d like, mija.” Aunt Luisa said, holding the book out. Anita grabbed it and darted upstairs.

“I like reading in my room.” Anita yelled down

As soon as she made it to her room, the wig was pulled off. She still smelled roses on her hand. She tried rubbing it off, but the scent stuck. Anita rolled her eyes and continued changing. Junie climbed out the window and headed for the chapel. He looked up at Carmelo’s portrait.

“Smile papa, everything is coming up roses.” He said with a smirk, drawing on his mustache.

A spot on the wall next to Carmelo’s portrait was emptied. Leaning on the wall below it was something wrapped up in thin brown paper. Junie had a feeling he knew what it was. There was a knock on the door. Junie cleared his throat.

“Come in.” He said

“Junie, good day. How are you?” Aunt Luisa asked

“Very well, thank you.” Junie nodded his head, keeping his rose hand behind his back. His eyes wandered and he found himself glancing at the covered object.

“Your last match had a bit of slacking of swordplay. I’ve asked for the boy next door to help practice with you.” Aunt Luisa said

“Yes. Huh? Hm.” Junie said, trying to figure out what the thing was. He had an idea, but at the same time, was hoping he was wrong.

“Junito!” Aunt Luisa snapped

“Ma’am.” Junie said, snapping his attention back to Aunt Luisa. The woman chuckled.

“That’s a surprise for later.” She said, “First thing’s first, I should introduce you to Anton Mendoza.”

”Mendoza?” Junie asked

She did her best not to show it. But internally, Anita was squealing and cheering, excited to see him. Junie just smirked.

“I do know him, actually. He’s a good man.” He said

“Oh good. I told him to meet you in the ring. I will be in the audience.” Aunt Luisa said. As she left, she paused at the door. Junie was sweating bullets, squeezing his hand.

“Roses.” Aunt Luisa whispered

The old woman shrugged and stepped out of the chapel. Junie blew out the breath he was holding. That woman was getting wise. How does he throw her off his trail? He looked at Carmelo.

Junie sighed as he walked out of the chapel to the ring. Maybe this fight would help distract him from the real problem. Anton stood in the center. As soon as the man turned around, Junie’s smile disappeared. Anton wore a blue uniform, a soldier’s uniform.

Something deeper arose within him. Beyond disgust and fear and rage.

“Buenos dias, Junie.” Anton said, leaning forward slightly. Junie looked to the audience, Aunt Luisa hadn’t made it there yet.

“What are you doing wearing that?” He whispered, his voice shaking.

“My father doesn’t want me to be a wig maker like him. He said he wanted me to be something proud.” Anton whispered back

“So you enlisted to die?” Junie asked

“I never would have agreed!” Anton started. Aunt Luisa coughed as she took her seat. Junie walked away from Anton, brandishing his sword. Anton did the same.

“Ready boys?” Aunt Luisa asked

“Hey! Don’t hold back!” Anton said with a smile.

“I never do.” Junie growled

“Start fighting!” Aunt Luisa yelled

True to his word, Junie held nothing back when fighting Anton. It was surprising. Anton fell to the ground after Junie spun around to elbow him in the nose.

“Maybe hold back a little.” He whispered as Junie helped him up.

“Consider this practice, soldier boy.” Junie said, his grip tightening on Anton’s wrist.

The Mendoza was thrown across the ring. Aunt Luisa applauded Junie as he walked over to Anton, pressing his boot down on his back.

“Excellent! I need you to teach that to Anita!” She yelled

“I can sense you’re mad about something.” Anton whispered, pushing Junie’s boot off and himself up.

“You think?!” Junie hissed as their swords clashed. Anton hastily defended himself from Junie’s deadly blows.

“If you die, you die on the battlefield. No grave, no glory, no family.” Junie whispered, pushing his sword against Anton’s.

“Like I said, this wasn’t my wish!” He whispered back.

Junie fell to Anton tripping him up, sweeping his leg to knock Junie down. As he fell, Anton grabbed his sword out of his hand. Both blades were pointed down at Junie. He glared at him.

“I’m sorry.” Anton squeaked

Junie sighed and stood up. He reached around his back to rub the spot below his right shoulder. Aunt Luisa stood at the railing.

“Are you alright? Is that scar hurting? Do we need to stop?” She asked

“I’m fine.” Junie said, looking up at her. “But I do think… We need to stop.” Aunt Luisa tried to talk to him as he left the arena. Even Anton tried to talk to him. Junie shook his head, going to the chapel.

That package was too tempting.

Junie grabbed it and ripped the paper off. It was a portrait of him with a stern expression, a cape draped over his arm. Whoever the artist was, they got the dark glare down perfectly. Almost too perfect. Junie looked from his portrait to Carmelo’s.

“It’s not me.” He whispered shaking his head. Aunt Luisa suddenly opened the door.

“Ay Dios, that was the surprise! I find it to be very good looking.” She said, wrapping an arm around Junie’s shoulders. “The likeness is incredible, don’t you think? Those eyes, so dark, and the mustache, so thick.”

“It’s not me.” Junie said to Aunt Luisa

The portrait was lowered to the ground against the wall. Without another word, he walked out of the chapel and out of town to the tree. Anton was already there, humming and strumming his guitar, still wearing that uniform. Junie growled and stomped closer.

“My father didn’t even ask.” He said. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Revolt! Yell! Make Aunt Luisa send me to try stopping you! Anything!” Junie yelled

“Would you if your father asked you?” Anton asked

“Yeah! Father or not, I write my own story! Nobody tells me what to do or how to feel!” Junie yelled. Anton paused and nodded his head before going back to his guitar.

“It’s because of Jorge, isn’t it? How he left?” He asked calmly

“Don’t bring him into this! This has nothing to do with him!” Junie yelled

“I don’t like the army practically running the town either, but I wouldn’t hate as much as you unless, they took something from me.” Anton pointed out. Junie huffed and crossed his arms. He turned away from Anton. The chords he strummed were nice, calming. Junie sighed and turned back around.

“It’s not just Jorge. But… But he ran away, with a group of rude soldiers, lived his life, didn’t know how scared I was to get a box back instead of the live thing.” Junie said, pacing in front of Anton, “And now he’s… He’s living the life he wanted. People love him. And I’m stuck here.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Anton asked. Junie stopped pacing.

“… No… No. It’s what Junie Sanchez is doing.” He said, sitting down, running his hands through his hair. “Not this again.” Anton stopped his strumming, twisting the pegs.

“Do you think Junie needs to slow down a bit?” He asked

“Yeah, he should.” Junie nodded his head, “Maybe I should stay Anita for a while. I was in this rut before Anita came back, and maybe… Yeah, Junie needs a break anyway.”

“Might want to hurry then.” Anton said

“Why?” Junie asked. A clap of thunder echoed through the dark clouds. That was all the answer Junie needed. “This isn’t over though. Not by a long shot.” As soon as he was out of sight, Anton put words to his guitar.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly.” He sang, “All your life. You were only waiting for this moment to arrive. Blackbird, fly. Blackbird, fly. Into the light of the dark black night.” He stood up, glancing above him at the rain that started dropping. Maybe he should head home, too.

A storm was coming. And heaven help anyone caught in it.

Chapter Text

Junie darted through San Angel, trying to outrun the rain that poured from the sky. He was soaked by the time he made it to the bullring. He shook out his hair and rung out his clothes. When that was done, he started lighting candles on his way to the chapel, then lit the ones there.

He was unaware of Aunt Luisa noticing the glimmers of light from Casa Sanchez.

With all the candles of the chapel lit, Junie looked down at the portrait of himself. He groaned and turned it around to face the wall. He already had Carmelo scowling at him. He didn’t need two disappointed faces on him. Especially if one of them was a gross misrepresentation of the real thing standing before him.

He opened the chest below Carmelo’s portrait and pulled out Anita’s outfit. The chest was closed, the clothes placed on top of it. Junie pulled off his boots and started to take off his shirt.

“Junie? What are you doing here?” Aunt Luisa asked from the door. Junie froze. Thankfully, he was not facing the door.

“I uh… I just… I got wet. And all the clothes I could find are Anita’s.” He said, not daring to turn around.

“Mijo, you are soaked.” Aunt Luisa said

“Yes, but I will be out of your hair in just a moment. If you don’t mind, I would like to change. Alone.” Junie said. He heard Aunt Luisa shift behind him, and so he moved slightly as well.

“If you’re upset about the portrait, I can have the artist redo it. I thought it be best to make it like your uncle.” Aunt Luisa said. “His portrait really shows the fierceness of the Sanchez Bullfighter that he is, don’t you think?”

“That… I hate that portrait.” Junie said

“What?” Aunt Luisa asked, thrown off by the statement.

This was it. The camels back has been broken.

Hurricane Junie landed.

“That is a horrible portrait, and I hate it. It is not me. And his,” he pointed at Carmelo, “is not him either. He was a great man. The biggest kindest heart you’ve ever seen. Big rough hands that protect and love. He smiled so much. That angry look is not Carmelo Sanchez!”

“And how would you know boy? He died before you were even born.” Aunt Luisa pointed out.

“Everything is wrong!” Junie yelled. “Those portraits! My age! … And me.”

It was time.

Junie inhaled deeply and turned around. The fake mustache was all but gone. Black streaks flowed down Junie’s face. Aunt Luisa was surprised. Then Junie whipped the rest of the ink off of his face. Anita Sanchez was revealed, and Aunt Luisa looked as if she may faint.

“Junie?” She asked

“No.” Anita said softly, not expecting this reaction from her aunt.

“Junie?” she asked again

“There has never been a Junie Sanchez.” Anita shook her head.

Her head snapped to right, a red handprint burning on her left cheek. Anita gingerly touched it. The confusion Aunt Luisa had was replaced by rage.

“How dare you? How dare you lie to me for nearly ten years!?” She yelled. Anita sighed. This was more or less how she expected her aunt react. “You could have died out in the ring! That corrida goring nearly killed you! What would I have told Jorge? And Anton? Does he know too?!”

Anita didn’t bother even opening her mouth. Aunt Luisa needed to vent. Understandable. Perhaps Anita had to take her out to the ring so she could fight her own bull. Knowing Aunt Luisa, the woman might actually rip the bull’s head off. She was doing a good job on Anita.

“After all that I’ve sacrificed and put up with you and Jorge!” Aunt Luisa yelled… what?

What?

“What?” Anita asked

“Do you have any idea what I was doing before I came to this… This turtles shell of a town? Tucked away in the desert, unaware of everything beyond it. Pathetic, decrepit.” Aunt Luisa

“The people of San Angel are fully aware of what happens outside of our town. Are you?” Anita asked, “So tell me what were you doing before you came here?”

“I don’t have to put up with this. Don’t dare speak to me as if I’m the one at fault.” Aunt Luisa started to leave. Anita took Junie’s portrait and smashed it against the wall. The frame shattered, the picture fell to the ground in front of her.

“Yes you are! For nearly ten years, you have made me do many things I didn’t want to, just to live a life I didn’t want to live!” Anita stepped over the picture to walk closer to a stunned Aunt Luisa, “And as much as I’ve told you, you didn’t care! You never cared! The moments of kindness you shared were just that! Moments! Easy to forget! To ignore! To pretend like they meant something else entirely! I am not a French poodle that you can pamper and groom to be a princess! I am a Sanchez! You are not, nor will you ever be!” Aunt Luisa stood in stunned silence for a moment, processing everything yelled at her.

“Apologize.” Was the only word out of her mouth.

“A Sanchez never apologizes for themselves.” Anita whispered

“Apologize.” Aunt Luisa said, raising her hand to slap the girl again. Anita caught it as it raced through the air. She shook her head and walked back over the picture of Junie to stand in front of the altar and statue of Maria.

“I have nearly sacrificed my life to keep my secret. To keep the bullring under the Sanchez name.” She said, “What have you sacrificed?” Aunt Luisa was dumbfounded. Shocked beyond all words. She gaped like a fish out of water, trying to think of what words to say. At this point, she was so angry, it didn’t matter just what she said.

“If your father was here, he’d be so disappointed.” She yelled, “Putting your life at stake this way. I did everything to keep you safe, and then you go behind my back! How dare you! How dare you lie to me like that!”

Anita clenched her fists and inhaled deeply.

“This is gospel, for the fallen ones,” she sang, glancing at Carmelo before turning back to the statue of Maria, “Locked away in permanent slumber. Assembling their philosophies, from pieces of broken memories.”

“Are you even listening to me anymore?” Aunt Luisa yelled. She was so fed up with Anita, she didn’t know what she’d do. The same could be said for Anita.

“The gnashing teeth, and criminal tongues, conspire against the odds,
But they haven’t seen the best of me yet. If you love me let me go!” 

Anita slammed her fists on the altar, the loud noise surprising Aunt Luisa. The pounding of the rain outside was in tune to the music and the beats of the song.

“If you love me let me go!”

She knelt down and picked up her dry clothes, squeezing them tightly in a hug.

“Cause these words are knives that often leave scars,
The fear of falling apart,
And truth be told, I never was yours
The fear, the fear of falling apart.”

The bundle of clothes were thrown at Aunt Luisa. She stumbled back in shock.

“What was the meaning of that? Where is all of this coming from?” she yelled

“This has been nearly ten years in the making!” Anita yelled before she continued, walking toward her aunt.

“This is gospel for the vagabonds, ne’erdowells and insufferable bastards,” Anita stomped on the portrait of Junie, pushing her foot into his face, “Confessing their apostasies, led away by imperfect impostors.”

“You are a false Sanchez trying to make me one too. No more, I say. No more.” Anita said, walking closer. Aunt Luisa backed away, holding onto her left arm with her right hand. She looked afraid. Good.

“Don’t try to sleep through the end of the world, and bury me alive
‘Cause I won’t give up without a fight. If you love me let me go!”

Anita stomped her foot down when thunder roared outside. Aunt Luisa felt the door at her back.

“If you love me let me go!” 

Anita slammed her fists on both sides of Aunt Luisa, on the wood of the door

“Cause these words are knives that often leave scars,” Anita backed away to yell at her properly, “The fear of falling apart, and truth be told, I never was yours. The fear, the fear of falling apart!”

“Anita, please!” Aunt Luisa seemed to have started sweating profusely.

“The fear of falling apart!”

“This is absolutely childish!” She was breathing heavily.

“The fear, the fear of falling apart!”

Anita pushed her out of the way of the door. She didn’t push the woman that hard, but she collapsed against the wall. She couldn’t catch her breath. How dramatic can this woman be.

“The fear of falling apart.” Anita walked out of the chapel, slamming the door behind her. She walked away, but slowed down. Aunt Luisa wasn’t coming. She turned around, looking down the hall at the wooden door, waiting. She touched her necklace before running back down and pushing the door open. 

The gust she made blew at the candles, but only one went out. Aunt Luisa was still collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily, clutching her left arm.

“No no no no. This isn’t what I wanted.” Anita said, kneeling down next to her. She took her right hand and squeezed it.

“I… Thought… You could be a lady… But, no… You’re just… A Sanchez.” The woman gasped. Of all the things to say as you’re dying.

“I am a lady, and a Sanchez. Two sides of the same coin. And nothing would ever change that. Especially you.” Anita said, keeping her anger in check. Aunt Luisa just smiled and choked out a laugh.

“Good girl… You’ll do… Just… Fine.” Were her final words. They surprised Anita so much, it took her a few minutes to realize the grip her aunt had on her hand went slack. Her eyes were closed. Her breathing had ceased.

Aunt Luisa had died.

Chapter Text

The rain falling like teardrops from the sky above finally stopped. There was a knock at the front door. Anton was almost settled down when he heard it. He didn’t expect to see Anita, soaking wet with a dry wig on. She looked up at him with a saddened expression.

“What’s wrong?” He asked

“Aunt Luisa… She… My Aunt just died.” She said. Anton gasped and looked away.

“What happened?” He asked

After a brief explanation of what happened to cause her Aunt’s death, Anita led Anton to the chapel where she pulled Aunt Luisa to lie in front of Maria’s altar. After, Anton sighed and looked at his girlfriend.

“So, what are you going to do now?” He asked

“We need to contact the undertaker, and father Sabado at the church. We should let the town know too, I guess.” Anita said

“We?” Anton asked

“Listen, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I could really use your help.” Anita admitted

“… Am I forgiven then?” Anton asked. Anita scowled, remembering what she had yelled at him earlier.

In hindsight, it was ridiculous for her to have exploded at him over something his father did to him. But she wasn’t going to let him down easy.

“… Temporarily. I just need… Help.” She said. She gingerly took his hand into her own. Anton glanced down before looking up into Anita’s eyes.

The two split up to get more done and cover more ground. Anton went to the undertaker, while Anita went to the church.

The undertaker rubbed his eyes at the rude awakening he was getting. What time was it, anyway? He opened the doors to Anton.

“What? Who died?” He asked. He would have been more enthusiastic about death, but it was either too late or too early. He couldn’t tell at this point.

“Someone in the bullring chapel.” Anton said. The undertaker’s eyes lit up.

“Death in the bullring! Those Sanchezes never last long, do they?” He said, holding up a hand to stop Anton from speaking, “Say no more. I already figured out Junie’s measurements from watching him. His casket and tombstone are in the back in the shop.”

“No no no! Not Junie! Dios mio, not Junie!” Anton said

“Come again?” The undertaker asked, confused.

“It’s Luisa! She died.” Anton admitted. The undertaker was silent as he absorbed this information.

“Oh,” He said, “Hm. Guess it’s a good thing for you then, eh?” He patted Anton’s shoulder.

“What?” Anton asked, being the confused one now.

“I am no fool, Mendoza. You’ve had eyes for Anita for a long time now, right? With that crazy harpy lady gone, you can make your move!” The undertaker said. He started to close the door before Anton caught it and pushed it open.

“Understand this, old man.” Anton said, pointing at the undertakers pointy nose, “I respect Anita too much to make any real moves on her unless we are both comfortable. And on top of that, that’s need to know basis. And you don’t need to know.”

“Alright, fine! Whatever.” The undertaker sighed. “Mind if I borrowed you then? I could use help getting the casket to the body.”

Meanwhile, Anita stood before the church, looking up at the tall bell tower. She tilted her head just to the left, then just shook it and walked to the large doors. After she knocked, she pressed her ear against the wood, straining herself until she finally heard the pitter patter of light footsteps coming towards her.

Father Sabado was a kind man. Short, but kind. In one hand, he held the candle that helped light his way. He rubbed his eyes with his other.

“Anita Sanchez? What is keeping you awake at this time of night, my child? Not here to confess, I hope.” He said

“No. But, my Aunt Luisa has just died. In our chapel in the bullring.” Anita said, “I need your help though. I need help.” Father Sabado placed a kind hand on her arm.

“I understand. Have you told the undertaker, yet?” He asked, leading Anita into the church.

“Anton is taking care of him now.” Anita said. The father chuckled.

“He is a good man, isn’t he?” He said

“The best.” Anita nodded

Father Sabado led Anita through the church into a makeshift office and bedroom. From a drawer, clothes were pushed aside and he pulled out a large book. He dropped it on the desk, dust flying everywhere. Anita waved a hand, careful not to extinguish the candle she was now holding.

“Let’s see.” Father Sabado said, opening the book, “Luisa had come to me just near a month ago. She said she wanted things to be ready. In the event of her death.”

“Near a month?” Anita asked

“That was when the sickness was strangling the life of many a man, woman, and child. She thought she would be next. So she made plans.” The father said, nodding his head and flipping pages.

“But since she lived, you still have all the plans she made.” Anita said, nodding her head as well.

“Exactemente.” The father said

He finally stopped on one page. The top of it read the name “Luisa Castillo Gomez”. Scraps of papers, lists and letter, words of advice for everything, and a thick envelope holding all of the money needed. Father Sabado took the envelope, stepping aside for Anita to read everything.

It took a lot of work to plan a funeral. But Aunt Luisa took care of all the planning of it already. She even planned the time and hymns to be sung. There were names on one list of people to tell.

“She thinks of everything. But not everyone.” Anita said. The father placed a hand on her shoulder.

“She thought of you when she made these plans.” He said. “And one more thing.” He flipped the page, showing Aunt Luisa’s will. Anita smiled.

“What a piece of work, huh?” The undertaker said. The two men lowered the casket to the ground. Anton went to Luisa’s feet.

“Hey not yet! Amateur. The undertaker said. He stared down at the body, tapping a finger on his chin. “Need some nicer clothes for her. Think you can find some while I stay here?”

“I think I can.” Anton nodded his head. The undertaker took a seat on the casket, looking down at Aunt Luisa.

“Hello? Mercedes?” Anita said, knocking on the door. An older woman opened it.

“Sanchez. Should have known.” She said

Anita explained Aunt Luisa’s death and told what times the viewing and mass would be. She did this many times for the many people Aunt Luisa befriended, or whatever she was to them.

When she finally returned to the bullring chapel, Aunt Luisa was changed and settled into her casket.

“Father Sabado has the money.” Anita said to the undertaker.

“Señorita Sanchez.” The undertaker nodded towards Anita. Both her and Anton were left alone, with Aunt Luisa. Anton rubbed his face.

“You should have heard him. ‘Never leave a body alone. Rule number one’, blah blah blah.” He said. Anita tapped on the tip of his nose.

“He does have a point.” She said

It would be a few more hours until morning. Some would wake up and realize what news they heard in the middle of the night. They would get themselves ready to arrive at Casa Sanchez for the viewing. Anita and Anton would be dressed for the occasion as well.

They would talk and mingle with the strangers that seemed to know Luisa well. Anita would avoid every chance she could to talk in detail of how much she missed her aunt. She wasn’t even sure of how to describe her any more.

Anita and Anton met at the foot of the staircase. Like wallflowers, they sat and watched the crowds that spoke amongst themselves. Anita looked up the staircase, then turned back to face forward. She sighed.

“This is a pretty big house.” She said, “Too big for just one person to live in. My old room is a nice room, too. It’s view is great.” Anton turned to look at Anita, who continued looking forward with pursed lips. “And I’ll be all alone. Ay, if only I had someone to join me.”

“Anita Sanchez, are you suggesting we live together without being married first?” He asked

“Perhaps. Would that be a yes?” Anita asked, casting a sideways glance at him, holding her hand out.

“Yes. A very big yes.” Anton said, putting his hand into hers. They both smiled and leaned on each other.

A weight felt lifted off their shoulders. Finally together. Under one roof. No hiding, no secrets. Especially with the wandering eyes that wandered over the both of them. Anita Sanchez and Anton Mendoza. What a cute couple!

When the viewing was done, Aunt Luisa’s casket was carried through town to the church where the mass began. Sermons were spoken, and testimonials and stories of her life and times. Anita was the last to speak, standing before the casket, she looked out to the crowd.

“Aunt Luisa,” she said, “was no Sanchez. She didn’t know how a Sanchez lives and grows. But she tried. She did what she thought was best for me and my brother. While… She was wrong… I do admire the tenacity she had. She never gave up on me, or my cousin Junie. He was most distraught when he found out, he refused to leave his room. But he would say… That Luisa was one tough señorita. The type of tough he was in the ring that was what he admired most about her. So, here’s to you Aunt Luisa. Smart, wise, and tough. The afterlife gained one heck of a lady.”

Anton smiled at her. As she sat down beside him, he took her hand into his own. It felt good to do this so often. Anita felt the same, so she didn’t mind.

Everyone was led out to watch the casket be lowered into the ground. The stone had Aunt Luisa’s date of birth and death, and the words “wife, sister, daughter, and aunt, thought she would live forever, but can’t”. Anita shook her head, smiling at the words. Father Sabado cleared his throat to get her attention. Anita took a handful of dirt and let it drop down on the casket. She felt like crying, but like she was out of tears. She wanted to cry.

People mingled and watched as the earth slowly covered the casket, making a small mound in front of the stone. Anita and Anton were the last to remain. Anton placed marigold flowers around the mound. Anita knelt in front of it and closed her eyes. She stayed in this position for a few minutes before feeling a hand on her shoulder.

“Anita, it’s getting late. The sun is going down.” Anton said. Anita nodded and stood up. The two returned to the church where father Sabado was talking to the nuns. He nodded to them and they walked off.

“Anita Sanchez.” He said, taking her hand, “I know that now with Luisa gone, you will be the one to take charge of your family’s bullring. I implore you to allow that honor to befall Junie.”

“What?” Anita asked, a white hot energy suddenly radiating off of her.

“Oh no.” Anton said, backing away.

“Luisa was a wise woman beyond her years, but you. So young, so full of life. Why should a girl like yourself do it when a boy in your family is here in San Angel as well.” Father Sabado said

Anita was shaking. With anger, with sadness, you name it. Father Sabado took notice before he took his leave. Anita went to the railing in front of the altar. She banged her fists on it screaming and crying her eyes out. Anton took a chance and pulled Anita into a hug. She struggled in his arms, but eventually calmed down, breathing heavily, tears streaming from her eyes.

“Nita, easy.” Anton whispered

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Anita said, slipping out of his hands. She started fidgeting with her necklace.

“Anita. It’s going to be fine.” Anton said. Anita was silent, focusing on the feather on her necklace. Anton sighed.

“I am either seen as a woman, or a Sanchez.” Anita said. “Maybe it’s time to show I am both… No, not now. Not after that!”

“Will Junie Sanchez ever reveal himself to be Anita Sanchez?” Anton suggested. Anita sighed and shook her head.

“I believe if I knew where I was going, I’d lose my way,” she started singing,

“I believe that the words that he told me are not my grave,” Anita looked back at Anton. 

“I know that we are not the weight of all our memories, I believe in the things that I am afraid to say.” Anton cupped her face with one hand, rubbing away the tears that still streaked down her face.

“Hold on, hold on.” He sang. 

“I believe in the lost possibilities you can’t see,” he continued to sing, lighting a match.

“And I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be,” he lit a couple candles by the window before returning to Anita.

“I know that your heart is still beating, beating darling,” he placed a hand on her chest over her heart before pulling her into an embrace. “I believe that you fell so you can land next to me.” Anita wrapped her arms around Anton, crying into his shirt.

“Cause I have been where you are before,
And I have felt the pain of losing who you are,
And I have died so many times, but I am still alive.”

Anita pulled away, walking down the aisle, Anton following after. She opened the door, looking at the sunset.

“I believe that tomorrow we’re stronger than yesterday,” she sang, looking back at Anton.

“And I believe that your head is the only thing in your way,” She tapped on the side of her head to emphasize her point. She gently stroked his face.

“I wish that you could see your scars turn in to beauty,
I believe that today it’s okay to be not okay.”

Anita started to walk away from Anton again.

“Hold on, hold on.” He sang. He was surprised when Anita stopped in front of his mothers grave.

“Cause I have been where you are before,
And I have felt the pain of losing who you are,
And I have died so many times, but I am still alive.” She held her arms out, turning to face the church.

“Anita, I’m going home. Come back when you’re ready.” Anton said. Anita focused on the bell tower. She heard Anton walk away, and she walked toward the base of the tower.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” she grabbed at the brick wall and started lifting herself up to scale it.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” when she reached the first window, Anita ripped her skirt off, revealing the trousers she wore underneath.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” Anton looked back at the church. His eyes grew wide when he noticed something climbing the church bell tower.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” Anita slipped, dangling in the air. She gasped, but pulled herself up to find her foothold.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” Anton ran back, standing below the tower. Anita was almost halfway to the top.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” Anton ran back inside the church to find the staircase, leading to the top of the tower.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” Anita had reached the edge of the top of the tower. She would have to jump to reach it.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning,” she took that chance and grabbed the lip of the edge before pulling herself up.

“This is not the end of me, this is the beginning.” Anita looked down at the town. She gasped and looked back over the edge.

She made it.

“Wow.” She whispered

The view from up there was amazing. Anita turned around to look at the bell. She gently rapped her knuckles against it, hearing the low tone it emitted. A small door from the ground opened outward. Anton scrambled to his feet and clung to Anita.

“Are you okay?” He asked

“Yeah! I’m fine! I climbed a tower.” Anita said happily

“You did, wha?” Anton asked, staring at her. She laughed at his confused expression. He started laughing as well. Anita led him to the edge of the tower, where they both sat with their legs dangling in the air.

“That is one great view.” Anton said

“I know. Beautiful.” Anita nodded

“Yes you are.” Anton commented

“You sly dog!” Anita smacked his shoulder

“Feeling better?” Anton asked

“Yeah. It’s just the idea of running an entire bullring on my own.” Anita said, leaning against Anton’s side, “This is a lot of work for one Sanchez alone.”

“But you do have me at least.” He said

“You’re no Sanchez. But you will do.” Anita said

Something flashed in Anton’s head. A spark of an idea. A surprise bound to make Anita happy beyond all belief.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m no Sanchez.” He agreed

In the middle of the night, he composed a letter.

“Hey, brother,

With the death of Aunt Luisa, I have begun to realize how much I need you. This is more than a job for one Sanchez alone. I know you’re happy, I know you love your life, but please, come home Jorge. Brother and sister, reunited for their family’s heritage. I hope to see you soon.

Love, Anita”

Jorge walked through the streets of Spain, whistling a tune he had heard before. He stabbed through an apple and took a bite out of it, before tossing the vendor some money. He pulled the letter out from the armor he always wore and smiled.

He had been waiting for this for so long! 

It wasn’t like he could have dropped everything to come home. He was a famous bullfighter here in Europe! With the way he swung a sword, it was like an extension of his arm. He tucked the letter away and shouldered his bag. Jorge climbed onto the ship, running to the railing.

“Home, let me come home!” He sang, running toward the mast to spin around it. “Home is wherever I’m with you!” He ran to the bowsprit

“Home, let me come home!
Home is wherever I’m with you!”

Jorge climbed up the ship rigging to sit on the yardarm. He looked out to the horizon. In a few weeks, he’ll finally be back in San Angel. He sighed and closed his eyes, swinging both legs.

“Home, let me come home,
Home is wherever I’m with you.”

Chapter Text

In a few weeks, Anita had not yet revealed Junie to be herself, but had managed to once more regain the balance between both of the identities she held. With Anton around more often, and no worries changing out of costume at home, so much stress with just that was relieved!

Between practice and corridas, Junie had also become a teacher of young matadors. He would encourage them and say ‘maybe you’ll be the next Carmelo Sanchez’.

Anton was a fine soldier. Always on alert for danger, but always around for when Anita needs him. Thanks to his basic training, he had become handy with patching Junie up enough to survive the trip to Guillermo. He also became a great swordsman. 

They were a perfect match.

They were both very tired at the end of their match. Instead of one of them calling the end, they both collapsed in the bullring. Junie rolled over and around, stopping on top of Anton. Anton cried out at the sudden weight.

“Had enough soldier boy?” He asked

“Yes! I give in! I yield!” Anton moaned. Junie hopped up slightly, just enough for there to be an impact when he landed back on Anton’s gut. He laughed and stood up.

“Shows you. Matadors are better than soldiers, anyway.” Junie laughed. Anton pulled himself up, leaning backwards to pop his back.

“That’s not what you said the other night.” He responded cheekily. Junie glanced around the arena, relieved to see nobody there. He pursed his lips, spun around and punched Anton in the arm.

“You watch yourself, Mendoza.” He said, blushing profusely.

“You know, you never did tell me why you hate soldiers so much.” Anton said. Junie grabbed Anton, pulling his head into the crook of his arm.

“Want to know the truth, huh? Why Sanchezes and soldiers don’t mix?” He asked, dragging Anton on the chapel. He let go to close the door behind them. He rubbed the mustache off.

“Okay. Let me start off. I always loved to have a staring contest with the bulls when I was little.” Anita said

“Is this important?” Anton asked

“Do you want to hear the reason why?” Anita asked

“… Yes.” Anton said

——————————————–

Anita always did like to have a staring contest with the bulls. Such a peculiar little child she was. She glared and stared at the beast who glared and stared right back at her through the bars of his corral. Anita snorted in the bulls face. It blinked and shook his head.

“Ha!” Yelled the four year old, “I win!” The bull started to stomp and roar in his pen. “Shut up! You won’t have much to worry about soon, anyway.” 

Anita laughed and ran through the halls. Soldiers were walking through, so she ducked and dodged around them. Her small size really came in handy. She skidded to a stop when she heard a familiar voice call out for her.

“Nita! Mi bebita!” Carmelo yelled

“Coming Papa!” She yelled back, running in the direction of his voice. A soldier opened a door in the hall, not seeing Anita. He tripped over her and they both fell to the ground. Anita laughed about it and grabbed the man’s hand to help pull him up.

“I’m sorry, señor.” Anita said. He pulled his hand back and stood up himself.

“Mierda! Little brat! Always getting no our way.” He said. He raised a hand, ready to slap her. When he looked up, he saw Carmelo down the hall. He gasped and started patting the frightened Anita’s head.

“Run along you little scamp. I have business elsewhere.” He said before walking away, leaving a confused Anita behind.

Anita was lifted and spun around before being hugged. She squealed and laughed, realizing it was just her father. He gently lowered her down to the ground messing up her hair.

“Nita, what are you doing here? All of these men? Not safe.” He asked

“Mama isn’t feeling good. I wanted to be with you.” Anita explained

“And I love being with you, but I have work to do.” Carmelo said

“Can I come?” Anita asked excitedly. Carmelo chuckled and lifted her up to place her on his wide shoulder.

As they walked, Anita noticed that there were a lot of soldiers. They were using the bullring to train cadets and house supplies while their general decided their next move. It was only in Carmelo’s good graces that they have stayed here for so long. But they were overstaying their welcome at this point. Carmelo stopped at a portrait.

It was a brave bullfighter fighting the biggest bull ever. The curl in his hair proved just what family he came from.

“Is that a Sanchez?” Anita asked

“The first Sanchez, bebita.” Carmelo said, putting a hand on the portrait. “Do you know where bullfighting first came from?” He had told her the history before. Might want to see if she remembered.

“Uh, it started with animal sacrifices! Old gods needed a sacrifice, so humans had fun with it. Mad it a show.” Anita said, guessing.

“Very good Anita.” Carmelo nodded his head, “The first Sanchez was the best at what he did. He was the first to not use picadors, a tradition all Sanchez bullfighters follow today!”

“Wow! What do picadors even do?” Anita asked

“I have no idea!” Carmelo responded with as much enthusiasm as Anita, “But he never used them!” He walked down the hallway. “But the first Sanchez was said to challenge the gods with his skills. So they sent down a bull that was so big and strong, it broke out of its corral and destroyed the town.” 

He opened the door to the chapel. A soldier uncrossed his arms when he finally saw the man he was waiting for. He started to speak before Carmelo held up a finger.

“The first Sanchez fought the beast valiantly, and eventually finished it.” He continued, “And where it was taken down, the bullring was built around. With the help of the Gutierrez family.”

“Have you met him?” Anita asked

“In person, I met him briefly when I was a boy. But, I meet him every Dia de Los Muertos. And every time I come here, I know he’s here, too.” Carmelo reached up to a wooden beam in the ceiling. Anita looked at it. A name was carved into the wood.

‘Manolete Sanchez’.

“Señor, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” The soldier started

“I am not done yet.” Carmelo said to the man, lowering Anita to the ground. He knelt down in front of his daughter. “What I am saying, is that this is home. A Sanchez home, for Sanchezes like me, and you. Never,” he stood, glaring at the soldier, “Ever, let anyone take this place from you.” The soldier flinched. He closed his eyes and focused, plastering a fake smile on his face.

“Señor, as I have said before, we are not taking your bullring.” He said

“No, you wouldn’t say that, especially in front of my niña.” Carmelo pointed out, crossing his arms. Anita stood behind him, getting bored with this interaction. She noticed her favorite toy was behind the soldier. So that’s where Pepe went!

“The arrangement we had is still in effect.” The soldier said

“There is no war to fight. San Angel is no warfront town!” Carmelo yelled, “You and your men are better off held up elsewhere. I need this space for me and my family.”

“Out of the three, who actually bullfights?” The soldier asked

“The same one who can break your neck.” Carmelo growled. The soldier tried to laugh the comment off, but Carmelo was unwavered. The soldier pulled at the collar of his coat.

“Señor, if you are a citizen of this country and town, then it is your civic duty to house what officers you can for the greater good.” He explained

“Civic duty be damned! You said one month, it has been one month. If you are not gone by tonight, I’ll let loose all of our bulls into the ring where you train. Let’s see those fancy soldier moves protect you from goring bull horns.” Carmelo said. The soldier glanced behind him. Anita was playing with her toy bull.

“But would that be best,” he quickly knelt and pulled Anita next to him, “for your daughter?” His arm was firmly wrapped around her.

“Let her go.” Carmelo growled

“Don’t you want her to live a safe life?” The soldier asked, Anita squirming in his arms. “Because if you send us away, safe will be a word she would never know.” Anita pulled on the man’s arm and bit down on it. He pulled her hair back. “You little-” the tip of a blade was pressed against his throat.

“Let. Anita. GO!” Carmelo yelled

Nobody threatened his baby girl. No one would dare hurt her, especially in his presence. The desert around their town was vast.

The soldier released his grip on Anita. She kicked the spot between his legs, grabbed her bull, and ran back to her father. He pulled her up with one arm, while holding his sword to the soldier with the other.

“To make this decision fair, I should consult another Sanchez.” Carmelo said to the soldier, before looking at Anita. “Anita, do you want the bullring to remain under the name Sanchez, or do you want men, like this one, to take it from us?”

“Sanchez name! Sanchez name!” Anita said

“And there you have it!” Carmelo said cheerily, pulling the sword away to lean on it like a cane. “There is our answer. So I will repeat myself. You and all of your men will be gone by nightfall, or it’s a free for all bullfight to the death.” The soldier climbed to his feet, walking out of the chapel without another word. As soon as the door was closed, Carmelo sighed and Anita wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

“Did he hurt you? Are you okay?” He asked his daughter

“You are so brave papa.” Anita said, pulling away. She looked up at Manolete’s name. “You should put your name there, with papi Manolo.”

“Heh, maybe I should. Maybe one day, you’ll do the same.” Carmelo said, placing Anita on his shoulder. Anita gasped and stared at her father with big eyes.

“Can I be a matador when I grow up?” She asked

“Maybe.” Carmelo said, “Keep practicing and one day, you’ll be as good as me.”

About 9 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days later, Carmelo had his accident in the ring. Anita gained her baby brother Jorge, but also lost her mother. While Aunt Luisa was doing something important and boring in Casa Sanchez, she was taking care of her brother, showing him around the bullrings while carrying him around in a basket. She pointed up to the beam with Manolete and Carmelo’s names carved into it.

“All the great Sanchez bullfighters carve their names there.” She said, “And one day, my name will be there, too. And maybe you, too.”

She looked down at Jorge. While he looked interested in what she was saying, he was also chewing on his hand at the same time. She knelt down and ran a hand through his curls.

“I wish you could have met papa.” She whispered, looking up at his portrait. She couldn’t cry. She was out of tears.

There were footsteps outside. Anita opened the door to the chapel just a little. The soldier her father once confronted was looking through the rooms leading to the chapel. A thick bag was slung over his shoulder. Anita pulled herself back into the chapel and hid Jorge’s basket behind Maria’s statue. She stood in front of the altar, waiting.

“This place is crap. Full of crap. Maybe something in here.” The soldier said before opening the door. “Oh, it’s the Sanchez brat.”

“Señor, what are you doing here?” Anita asked. The soldier closed the door behind him and slowly lowered the bag he carried.

“Since the passing of your father and mother, I was wondering how me and my men could protect you. You are so little, niña.” The soldier said, looking down at her.

“What’s in that bag?” Anita asked

“Payment for the protection of the soldiers. You don’t want to starve us, do you?” He asked

“Please leave my home, and never come back.” Anita said. The soldier scowled at her. He pushed her out of the way, sizing up the statue.

Anita glared at the man. She climbed on top of the chest below Carmelo’s portrait, and took one of the swords that hung there.

“Oh thank you for that!” The soldier said, pulling on the blade. Anita fell off the chest, still holding the handle of the sword.

“Let go!” Anita said loudly

“Why? You are a little girl. What could you possibly do to me?” The soldier asked

Anita glared at the soldier once more. She pulled backward step no the sword, slicing his palm open. She stumbled backwards. The soldier, enraged, was ready to charge the small girl. She swung the sword to the right, hitting the man’s shin. Then she aimed higher and swun to the left, cutting into his hip. Both attacks had drawn blood. The man was down on his knees, glaring at Anita.

“I am a Sanchez. This is my home. And you are not welcome here.” Anita said

“You little-!” The soldier started. Anita raised her sword, leveling it to the man’s chest. Her grip was steady and firm. There was no way out of this situation.

“As I have said before, leave. And never come back.” She said

“This wasn’t even worth it.” the man sighed. Anita lowered her sword as the man stood up and walked out. She sighed and climbed on the chest to replace the sword where it belonged. She looked back up a the carved names on the wooden beam.

“One day.” She whispered

——————————————————

“I never heard or saw that man again. It was probably for the best. I might kill him now if I met him now.” Anita said, finishing her story. Anton nodded his head, looking up a the beam.

“I guess Junie would never sign his name up there.” He said

“Never.” Anita said with a smirk. They smiled at each other and leaned forward for a kiss shared between them both.

“Don’t you have another lesson to teach the children?” Anton asked

“You’re right!” Anita gasped

Anton was pushed out of the chapel while Anita smeared her mustache back on for Junie. Before he left, he looked up at the beam. Someday. 

Meanwhile, across town, a man sold his horse and smiled, finally home again.

Chapter Text

The clouds that hung around the sun made the glowing orb look like a skull. And all of the clouds in the sky had prominent skull shapes, too. Junie smiled at the cheering crowds that stood on the sides of the road that he walked down. He waved at everyone. He reached the town square, where his date was waiting. Anita turned around, crossing her arms.

“You’re late.” She said

“I know, what are you gonna do?” He asked. Anita looked behind her, the crowds had dispersed.

“Sit down.” Junie said

A table had appeared. Anita and Junie sat across from each other.

“Sanchez. Swords. Bullfighting.” Junie said

“Sanchez. Anton.” Anita said

“Matador?” Junie asked

“Family.” Anita answered nodding her head.

“Bulls.” Junie sighed

“Papa. Legacy. Legend. Anton.” Anita said, crossing her arms.

“Bullfighting! Sanchez! Matador!” Junie yelled. Anita stood at her place.

There was a ring that floated between the two of them. Junie noticed it too, and also stood. When Anita raised her right hand, Junie raised his left. Both hands made contact with the glass of a mirror.

“Junie.” Anita said

“Anita.” Junie nodded his head. Anita took her chair and threw it at the mirror. Time slowed as it flew through the air. Junie lifted his chin and held out his arms.

“White handkerchiefs.” Junie whispered

The mirror shattered. Standing behind it was her bull toy Pepe, but he was the size of a bull. He walked up next to Anita and was joined by many more. They all stood at the starting line of the race through San Angel. A gunshot went off and all of the toy bulls ran away, leaving Anita behind.

Alone.

But she smelled coffee. It was good. She followed her nose and arrived at the bridge. She stopped at the end and heard something. A voice softly floated on the breeze.

“Hey sister, do you still believe in love I wonder.” It sang, “oh if the sky comes falling down, for you.”

“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” Anita sang, walking off the bridge. The water was soft and comfortable.

Her eyes slowly opened.

The smell of coffee was still hanging in the air, and the voice she heard was still singing outside her window.

“What if I’m far from home!”

“Oh, brother I will hear you call.” Anita replied softly, “What If I lose it all?” She hadn’t heard this song in years. She crept to the window, sliding on her wig.

“Oh sister I will help you out, oh, if the sky comes falling down,” Anita looked down to see a mop of curly dark brown hair sticking out from a metal helmet and skinny twig legs, metal armor covering his torso.

“For you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do.” She sang along with him. The man removed his helmet, bowing and looking up at Anita. She could not believe her eyes, looking down into the one eye of her brother.

“Jorge? Is it really you?” She asked

“Anita, I missed you so much.” He said

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed you way too much. Wait there!” Anita vanished from her window. On the level below her, Anton was leaning out the window, mug of coffee in hand.

“Nice outfit.” He commented

“Anton? My, how you have grown! Anita too, I’m assuming.” Jorge said with a smile.

“What is your accent?” Anton asked

“I have an accent?” Jorge responded

“A big one. Spain came home with you.” Anton nodded his head. Jorge patted his armor and pulled on the red and yellow sash that hung around it from one shoulder.

“In more ways than one. It is good to see you, Anton.” Jorge chuckled

“Back at you.” Anton lifted his mug before taking a swig.

“Oh Jorge!” Anita called out. Jorge looked up.

Filthy water was flung down onto him, soaking him to his core. Jorge froze in fear of what this disgusting liquid was. Anton looked away.

“Didn’t see that coming.” He whispered

“Don’t worry, it’s water! But that’s what you get for RUNNING AWAY TO SPAIN FOR TEN YEARS!!!” Anita yelled. Jorge shuddered and shook his head.

“But… I thought you’d be happy I’m back!” Jorge cried back

“Of course I’m happy. I’m thrilled to see you again! But right now, I’m furious you abandoned your family!” Anita yelled back, slamming the shutters on her window closed.

“But your letter!” Jorge said, fishing it out of his armor and shaking it off. Anton snorted in his coffee, coughing and sputtering. Anita opened the shutters up to look back down at Jorge curiously.

“What letter?” She asked lowly.

“No no! No no no!” Anton whispered, waving his hands to get Jorge’s attention.

“The letter you… sent me.” Jorge said. His eyes wandered down to Anton, who was shaking his head, fearfully.

“Hm. Uno momento, por favor.” Anita said, closing the shutters slowly. 

“Why did you write a letter and say it’s from Anita?” Jorge asked Anton

“I thought she needed you! She’s been going through hell recently. She needs her brother.” Anton explained. He gasped when he was pulled away from the window. Jorge flinched, hearing shouts and bangs and hollow humming thuds inside the house. A door opened, and Jorge went to see what was happening.

“Anita, please, put the guitar down.” Anton said, holding one arm out while rubbing his head with the other.

“I open my house and arms to you, and you go behind my back and do this!” Anita yelled, closing the door behind her with a kick of her foot. The guitar she held was being wielded like a sword.

“To make you happy! You needed this! Anita,” Anton took a chance and stepped closer to her, “I love you.” Slam! “AY!” Anton rubbed his head as the guitar hummed after it collided with it.

“Back off Mendoza. You’re staying out here. Think about what you’ve done.” She said. Anita opened the front door and threw the guitar on the couch. She locked it and spun around, facing Jorge.

“And you!” She hissed

“You’ve gotten taller! I love what you did with your hair! I love you?” Jorge said nervously. Anita punched the metal that covered his chest. She pulled back her fist, shaking it. She groaned and banged on the armor.

“Take off that armor and fight me like a man!” Anita said, “Stupid opera performer!”

“I wish.” Jorge sighed

“What?” Anita grunted, not letting up on her assault on the armor.

“Uh, I have something to confess Nita. I haven’t been performing in the opera.” Jorge admitted. Anita’s hands froze in the air when she heard that.

“That was your dream, though. You ran away just to do that! You love the opera!” She said loudly

“Well, you were right. Music… Is not work fit for a Sanchez bullfighter.” Jorge said with a small smile.

“You… Bullfighter?” Anita asked, eyes wide. Jorge nodded his head. Anita punched him in the face. He fell to his back on the ground. Images of hearts and skulls danced in his vision.

“How dare you give up your dream! HOW DARE YOU!!!” Anita yelled. She took a step back to look at Jorge and Anton. “Neither of you are welcome in my house. Stay out in the stables. Think about what you’ve done.”

“Nita.” Jorge moaned. Anita scaled the walls up to her window and climbed into her room. She ran back down the stairs, running to every window, closing and locking the shutters up tight.

Anton helped Jorge to his feet. He was still dazed from the punch his sister dealt him. He pushed Anton away, pointing at him.

“You did this. This is your fault.” he said

“But Anita-” Anton started before Jorge punched him out.

“You lied to Anita, you lied to me, and now I’ll lie… Down.” Jorge said before collapsing on the ground across from Anton. He laughed and sat up, looking down at Jorge.

“Welcome back, Jorge.” He said, “Good to see you again.”

Unbeknownst to both men, Anita was pacing back and forth. Her emotions kept switching between anger and joy. She grumbled and laughed, and held her plush bull Pepe close. She fell back on the couch, landing on her back next to Anton’s guitar.

“I can’t believe it. Jorge is home!” She said, before suddenly sitting back up. “But no. He’s been gone way too long. He’s not getting off easy. No. Not at all. I missed him too long. And he gave up his dream!” Anita stood up, leaving Pepe behind. She paced in front of him. “How could he? Just… How could he? But he’s a bullfighter now. He can’t meet Junie. He can’t. But how could he give up his dream, Pepe? How?”

The bull just fell to its side, landing next to Anton’s guitar. Anita sighed and rubbed her forehead. It was way too early for this. There should be coffee still in the kitchen. She picked Pepe up and sat him on the table across from her.

Jorge was dragged to the stables by Anton. His bag was held in his arms while Anton held his feet. They went around the house to the back where the stables were. Jorge’s feet were dropped so Anton could push open the door.

“Where did Anita learn to punch like that?” Jorge asked, pulling himself up to his feet. He rubbed the spot where fist met face. It was still sore. Just like his pride.

“Junie taught her a few things. They are pretty close.” Anton responded, not daring to look Jorge in the eye. The Sanchez walked in the stable and leaned on a post.

“Si, I’ve heard of Junie Sanchez, la Bestia. Amazing corridas have been held featuring him. But I have yet to meet him.” Jorge said, “Why doesn’t he stay in Casa Sanchez? He is a Sanchez, after all.”

“He…” Anton paused briefly in concocting his lie, “prefers to… Live alone. He lives in the inn at the edge of town. Yeah.”

Anton nodded, satisfied with the lie he told. He figured Anita would tell him as soon as she was ready. As much as he wished it was sooner, rather than later. Jorge seemed satisfied with what he was told, hoping to one day meet Junie. Maybe in the ring.

He walked further into the stable. Anton seemed to claim one pen for his own already. It looked like it was somebody’s bed for a while. Jorge stopped at the pen next to it. On the post in front of it was a small sign. A single familiar name stared right back at him. Curiosity peaked and made him wonder about the former occupant.

“Um, where’s Chamuco?” He asked

Anton paused in his fluffing of the hay.

“He died.” He explained “A lot of people were dying. A sickness… It took so many. It took Chamuco two days after Anita came back. Luisa did everything she could to cheer her up. But I knew. Then a few days later, Luisa died.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Anita left?! She never told me!” Jorge said

“It’s a long story.” Anton admitted. Jorge threw his bag into the pen and let himself fall on top of it, making himself comfortable.

“Good thing we have all day, then.” He said, “Now, tell me everything that happened since I was gone. Leave nothing out.”

Chapter Text

It took the rest of the morning and half of the afternoon for Anton to explain everything that had happened in San Angel. Nothing was forgotten or left out. Except for the real Junie Sanchez. He figured Anita would tell him when she’s ready. In their walking and talking, Anton led Jorge to the cemetery.

The young Sanchez put a hand on the stone over Aunt Luisa’s grave. It was horrible to think such a thing, but Jorge was glad the old woman died. He was relieved that the shadow that hung over the siblings finally lifted. He wouldn’t say that out loud, though.

“It was a good funeral.” Anton said

“And I would have thought, now that Aunt Luisa is out of the way, Anita would feel… You know… Better than how your letter described.” Jorge said, “And not the threatening with guitars, angry girl I saw earlier.”

“Amigo,” Anton put a hand on Jorge’s shoulder, “you had it coming.”

“Excuse me?” Jorge asked, sounding offended.

“You were gone for ten years. Ten. Years. And she’s been missing you ever since you left. Luisa had been struggling to run the bullring until your cousin showed up, and Anita had to handle all of that. Alone.” Anton explained

“… Oh. Right.” Jorge said

Guilt enveloped him as he realized he was a horrible brother. If Anita never talked to him again, he wouldn’t blame her. He let her down. Anton patted his shoulder.

“Would you mind? I just want a moment alone. Please.” Jorge said, turning sharply to Anton. He nodded his head and left Jorge.

As soon as he was gone, Jorge stepped closer to Aunt Luisa’s grave and made sure to step on every inch of it. He lifted his eyepatch, revealing the scarred white eye that turned down on the grave.

“You did this to me. And I will never forgive you for that.” He whispered. He let the patch fall back over his useless orb, then did a few dance steps before jumping off the grave.

He took in a deep breath and strode through the graveyard. His eye travelled from stone to stone. He picked up a few pebbles on the way before finally arriving at the one that still haunted him. Even in Europe, he couldn’t escape the shadow this grave left him in.

Carmelo Sanchez.

Jorge removed his helmet and knelt down, putting it next to him. He showed at least some respect by not kneeling on the grave. He lifted his head up to look at the inscribed name. 

“Papa.” He said, “It has been many years since I have last spoken to you. I have become a bullfighter, like you. It wasn’t what I had planned, but sometimes, things don’t happen like that. Right? Are you proud, papa? Proud of what I have given up to live your dream?”

His question was received with silence. Of course it was.

He chuckled. Tears were streaming out of his eye. He stood, clenching the pebbles in his hand, still laughing, still crying. He threw the pebbles at the grave with a yell.

“You foolish man! You foolish, stupid, savage man!” Jorge yelled, “And I!” He paused looking down at his hands, “I’ve become just like you.” He sighed and calmed down. He looked down at his hands. Rough and strong, years of work had taken their tolls on him. He looked up at the stone.

“I’m tired of being what you want me to be,” he sang slowly, “Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface.” He put a hand on top, staying to the side of the grave. “Don’t know what you’re expecting of me, put under the pressure of walking in your shoes,” his hands slowly clenched into fists, both of them hanging on the stone.

“Every step that I take is another mistake to you,” he sang. He looked down at his feet, he noted pe at the grave. he slammed them on the stone then stomped on top of the grave, yelling at the name that followed him everywhere he went.

“I’ve become so numb, I can’t feel you there,
I’ve become so tired, so much more aware.
I’m becoming this, all I want to do,
is be more like me and be less like you.”

He stomped closer to the stone, treading on the grave, and punched the rock. He shook his hand and fell to his knees in front of it. He looked up the sky and closed his eye. 

“I’m tired of being what you want me to be.” He whispered, his vision returning to the stone in front of him.

“I tried everything. I tried to escape.” Jorge said with a shrug, “But bullfighting just kept dragging me back in. It’s fun, I’ll admit it, but it’s… A dark kind of fun.” He picked up his helmet and put it back on, “Papa… I hate you.”

Jorge sighed and walked away from the grave. He meandered back through the town. His thoughts drifted between several subjects. The bookstore having librettos, how to get Anita to forgive him, finally meeting Junie. When he returned to Casa Sanchez, he looked up at the window that led to Anita’s room. A dim light was shining behind it. Anton was leaning on the wall below it.

“I’ve been thinking.” He said, looking at his friend.

“About what?” Jorge asked

“The proper way to apologize to a girl like Nita.” He replied, leaning his head back on the wall. Jorge raised an eyebrow and started leaning next to him.

“I see, and… By the way,” he said, “I’ve been thinking too.”

Anton looked at him and regretted it. The expression Jorge wore was dangerous, scrutinizing. It felt as he could see right through Anton. He looked forward out of discomfort.

“Uh, about, about what? If I may ask.” Anton asked

“What are your… Intentions, for my sister?” Jorge asked

The question had been in the back of his mind when he first about them becoming an item. Now, after seeing how they were living together, the query had arisen once again. Anton inhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes to focus what it was that he wanted to say.

“I… Love Anita. I do, and… I don’t ever intend on doing anything to her against her will. Not after what that Posada boy did to her.” Anton said. “She is a brave, strong woman. And… And if I could…” His voice trailed off, leaving Jorge wondering. He leaned forward trying to catch the expression on Anton’s face. Just what it meant.

“And if you could?” He repeated

“If I could, I would ask Anita… To marry me.” Anton admitted. Jorge chuckled.

“Now what in this grand world is stopping you from doing that?” He asked. Anton sighed and pulled on the collar of his uniform. Jorge pursed his lips, knowing exactly what he meant. He looked up at the window chewing on his bottom lip.

“She doesn’t like soldiers.” Jorge finally said

“I know! I know. I just don’t know, you know?” Anton said throwing his hands in the air and pacing in front of Jorge.

“No.” He said, pulling on his goatee.

“No?” Anton asked, stopping.

“No, it must be grand. Magnificent! Even for just a moment, make her forget your faults, and fall in love with you all over again.” Jorge said, holding out a hand to his sister’s window. He groaned and lowered his dramatic stance. “But first, we need to get her to forgive us.” Anton looked away and twisted his nose. His eyes grew wide with an idea.

“I may know someone who can help.” He said

“Who?” Jorge asked, genuinely curious. After all, who could help two musicians apologize to the girl they both loved?

“You might not remember him from our youth,” Anton said, “Ricardo Rodriguez.”

Chapter Text

There was the sound of glass breaking, a cat screeched shortly after. You would think in such a pleasant place like San Angel, there wouldn’t really be a “bad part” of town. There was a place where the shadows of the buildings were dark, trash kept piling up with nowhere to go but rot in place, trees made the shadows darker and vines called the walls, it was a place Anton visited many times when he needed advice, or new music.

“This way.” Anton said, taking confident steps through the garbage. Jorge followed at a slower place, not really wanting to step on anything gross. Did something just move?! Jorge held his leg in midair.

“On second thought, do we really need Ricardo’s help?” He asked nervously, “Just how helpful is he with our plight?”

“Essential.” Anton said, moving forward.

Jorge tried hopping on one foot to follow after. Something crashed behind him, and with a shriek, he ran, holding down his helmet.

Ricardo was Anton’s confidant and friend. The one who always gave him the best advice. And the right music he needed for any occasion. He was startled by hands that quickly grabbed his shoulders. He felt Jorge trembling with every step they took. Anton sighed and shook his head.

“Are we there yet?” Jorge asked. He jumped when he heard loud sobbing.

“Yes.” Anton replied

They arrived at a small one story building. A light was visible through the window, and the wailing sobs were clearer the closer they got. Anton and Jorge had to watch their steps walking through empty bottles that lined the path. When the door was pushed open, a short fat man with a big brown bushy beard was crying, holding a bass.

“Ricardo, who was it this time?” Anton asked

Jorge closed the door behind them. It looked like they entered the kitchen, dining room, living room, and bedroom. Such a small little shack. How was this man useful?

“It was that Selma. Broke my heart, and left me for my brother! That fiddler is second string to me!” Ricardo yelled, “But I miss her Anton! I miss her so much!” He pouted his lips and rubbed the bass. The name Selma was carved on it. Anton rolled his eyes.

“Ricardo, we need you. Anita, she needs something big.” He explained. Ricardo’s eyes grew wide.

“We?” He asked. He turned to the stranger who looked to tall to be standing in his house to begin with. One eye, old armor, curly hair.

“Who are you?” Ricardo asked

“Jorge Sanchez.” Jorge introduced himself. Ricardo nodded his head. “I’ve been told you can help us with our predicament.”

“From Spain, right? I recognize that accent anywhere.” Ricardo said

“Ricardo!” Anton snapped

“Right! Follow me!” Ricardo led Anton and Jorge into another room. Bookshelves lined the room, filled to the brim with sheet music, scores, librettos, everything a music lover needed. Jorge felt like crying at the beautiful sight. Ricardo immediately went to one book and hefted it out. The cover read “Apology Songs collected by G. Santaollala”.

“If Anita is mad, I can guarantee something here is going to help.” Ricardo said

“It better.” Jorge said

Anita was no cook. Anton was better. But at least her meal smelled good, and looked good. And once a piece was in her mouth, she realized it tasted good too. She did wish for company, but Jorge and Anton had to be punished for their actions. Especially Jorge. With her meal done, she readied herself for bed.

“Hey, sister. Do you still believe in love, I wonder.” Came a soft voice from below her window. Anita rolled her eyes and pulled her wig on. She waited for the voice to sing something else.

“Malinconia, Ninfa gentile, la vita mia consacro a te,” The voice sang. Anita raised an eyebrow. He was trying to get her attention. She figured he would come up with a grand gesture of sorts to make her forgive him.

“It’s too late to apologize. It’s too late.” Anita sang back, shaking her head, “I said It’s too late to apologize. It’s too late.”

“I think we might have her attention.” Jorge whispered. Anton nodded, strumming on his guitar. Jorge sighed and braced himself. This part was when he would be sung to.

“Weep for yourself, my man,
You’ll never be what is in your heart.
Weep, little lion man,
You’re not as brave as you were at the start.”

Anita opened the shutters and looked down at her brother being sung to, looking guilty as ever. Good.

“Rate yourself and rake yourself,
Take all the courage you have left.
And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head.”

They both looked up at Anita and sang together to her.

“But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really messed it up this time
Didn’t I, my dear?
Didn’t I, my,”

“La la na na, la la la la la na na na na na!” Anita sang back to them, repeating her song. Ricardo started strumming his bass along with Anita. Anton looked at him incredulously.

“What? Feeling the music, man!” He said. Anton huffed and changed the tune, playing his guitar hard and loud, getting the sound to change to his style.

“I don’t mind spending every day,” he sang,
“Out on your corner in the pouring rain.
Look for the girl with the broken smile,
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile,
And she will be loved,
And she will be loved.” 

Anita smiled. She was happy Anton was trying hard to get her forgiveness. She had to make it hard for him though, so she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“We’re the men who can’t be moved,” Jorge sang, “Cause if one day you wake up and find that you miss us three,
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth we could be
Thinking maybe you’ll come back here to the place that we’d meet
And you’ll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street.”

“I’m covering my ears like a kid,” Anita sang loudly, interrupting them,
“When your words mean nothing, I go la la la!
I’m turning up the volume when you speak,
‘Cause if my heart can’t stop it,
I’ll find a way to block it, I go
La la, la la la la la na na na na na
La la na na, la la la la la na na na na na.”

“Dang! She’s good!” Ricardo commented

“Almost too good.” Jorge said, pulling on his mustache. He opened up the book of songs, flipping through pages quickly. He stopped on one song and walked forward. The book was passed on to Anton and Ricardo, who began playing to it.

“I am sorry, Nita I am sorry, hear my so-AAGH!” Jorge’s song was interrupted by Anita throwing her bull down at him. Anton and Ricardo burst out laughing.

“A Sanchez never apologizes for themselves! You need to try harder, Jorge!” Anita yelled down to them, her air of playfulness gone. Anton she was ready to forgive, but not Jorge. He groaned, squeezing the soft bull toy. Slowly he loosened his grip, walking back to Anton and Ricardo.

“She’s playing with us.” He said, smiling. Anton nodded his head. He figured that was the game. He held a hand up to Anita.

“I know you’ve forgiven us. I don’t like being played in this fashion.” Anton yelled

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t forgiven all of you, anyway.” Anita said, crossing her arms, a smile on her face.

“We could have had it all!” Anton sang. Jorge nodded his head. He knew what to do next. Where this was going.

“Rolling in the deep!
You had my heart inside of your hand!
And you played it, to the beat.”

“If your lips are moving,” Anita sang, “if your lips are moving,
If your lips are moving, then you’re lyin’, lyin’, lyin’, babe.”

“Nevermind, I’ll find someone like you.” Anton sang back, turning away from Anita. “I wish nothing but the best, for you too.
Don’t forget me, I beg, I remember you said:-
Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.”

“I know you’re lying,” Anita sang back, “cause your lips are moving,
Tell me do you think I’m dumb?
I might be young, but I ain’t stupid
Talking round in circles with your tongue!
I gave you bass, you gave me sweet talk,
Saying how I’m your number one
But I know you’re lyin
'Cause your lips are movin
Baby, don’t ya know I’m-”

“Drop a heart, break a name,” Jorge sang, “We’re always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team.”

Anton and Riacardo played loudly on their respective instruments. Jorge slid on his knees looking up at Anita.

“We’re going down, down in an earlier round,” he sang,
“And Sugar, we’re going down swinging!”

Anita crossed her arms, annoyed. She rolled her eyes at her brother.

“I’ll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it!” 

“Shatter every window 'til it’s all blown away!” Anita yelled her song, slamming her hands on the windowsill, “Every brick, every board, every slamming door blown away!”

Jorge and Anton were startled by the intensity of Anita’s words. They consulted their book. Jorge knew this was targeted at him, though.

“Til there’s nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday.
Every tear-soaked whiskey memory blown away!”

“Anita, hear me out.” Anton yelled

“Blown away!” Anita sang out loudly. Anton rubbed his ears. Anita retreated into her room, while she really just sank below her window out of sight. Anton groaned, but went back to splaying his guitar. With all his heart.

“They say before you start a war,” he sang,
“You better know what you’re fighting for.
Well, baby, you are all that I adore.
If love is what you need, a soldier I will be…”

Anita rubbed her eyes. This was getting to be too much for her. This game wasn’t fun anymore. But Anton continued his song.

“I’m an angel with a shotgun,
Fighting 'til the war’s won,
I don’t care if heaven won’t take me back.
I’ll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe.
Don’t you know you’re everything I have?
And I wanna live, not just survive tonight.”

There was silence. Nobody made a sound. They waited for the other to make a move. Anton rubbed the back of his neck.

“I think I went too far.” He whispered. Jorge rubbed his mustache. He heard something from his sisters room.

“What do we do now, then?” Ricardo asked. Jorge shushed him.

“Steady feet, don’t fail me now,” Anita sang softly, “I'mma run 'til you can’t walk. Something pulls my focus out,” Anton and Ricardo started to play along with her. She stood up, looking down at her boys, and Ricardo.

“And I’m standing down,” she sang, “Stop and stare,
I think I’m moving but I go nowhere.
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared.
But I’ve become what I can’t be.”

“Oh, can you see what I see.” Anton sang back to her. She leaned on her windowsill, looking down at Anton. Jorge backed away.

“Anita, I am no Sanchez. So I can say this.” Anton said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to see your brother, and I should have told you before I wrote the letter. I just wanted to make you happy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Anton.” Anita said with a smile. Anton beamed and started plucking at his guitar for one more song.

“When life leaves you high and dry,” he sang,
“I’ll be at your door tonight if you need help, if you need help.
I’ll shut down the city lights,
I’ll lie, cheat, I’ll beg and bribe to make you well, to make you well.”

Ricardo began strumming his bass along with Anton. Unsure of what to do, Jorge stood back. If his sister was happy, he was happy.

“When enemies are at your door I’ll carry you away from war,
If you need help, if you need help.
Your hope dangling by a string,
I’ll share in your suffering to make you well, to make you well.”

“Give me reasons to believe,” Anita sang with Anton, “that you would do the same for me.” Jorge decided to join in the chorus.

“And I would do it for you, for you,” the three sang,
“Baby I’m not moving on,
I love you long after you’re gone.
For you, for you,
You would never sleep alone,
I love you long after you’re gone.
And long after you’re gone gone gone.”

With the music done, Ricardo cheered and applauded everyone.

“That was amazing! We should do it again sometime!” He said, to the amusement of the Sanchezes and Mendoza. Anita smiled down at everyone.

“Anton, I forgive you.” Anita said, “Come on inside.” 

“Yes!” Anton whispered, running to the front door to go into the house. Jorge raised his eyebrows and looked up at his sister.

“And what about me?” He asked

“Not yet.” Anita responded

“But-” Jorge started

“Not yet. Go to the stables and think about what you’ve done.” Anita yelled, slamming the shutters close. Jorge groaned. Ricardo patted his back.

“It’ll be okay, man. Give her time.” He said, before walking away. Jorge stared up at the window of his sisters room. He stayed there, watching the lights inside dim as the occupants settled down for sleep.

He wanted to make up for the lost years they could have spent together. He wanted Anita to forgive him. He has to figure something out.

“Gonna wait on the corner, where I played with you,” Jorge sang softly, “Gonna wait here all day and night, I’m not gonna move.”

Chapter Text

Of course Jorge slept out in the stables. He was given no choice. He would try to see Anita as often as he could, try to get her alone to talk. She would avoid him like the plague. Keep her eyes down and anger up.

He deserved it, no doubt about that.

At least Anton showed sympathy for Jorge. He brought him food from their table and blankets on cold nights. He was a very nice man. It was a shame he and Anita were so close. Otherwise, Jorge didn’t know what he would do with that Mendoza, alone.

But they would talk, and sing. Discuss future plans for a future event. Jorge’s big ideas for it were so much for Anton to handle. So of course, Jorge showed him what he needed to do.

Every night before he went to sleep, Jorge would camp himself out below Anita’s room, singing songs. Mostly lullabies. And he would never know that they made Anita cry after hearing his heart and soul put into every tune.

A week finally passed since Jorge returned. Junie had a corrida. Out of curiosity, Jorge decided he would watch. Junie figured he would.

“I’m not sure if I should go.” He said to Anton in the chapel. He was pacing back and forth in front of Carmelo’s portrait, fiddling with his necklace.

“He’s watching from a distance.” Anton reassured him, “Unless he see’s you up close, I don’t think he’d recognize you. It took me a while before I realized who Junie really was.”

“Ugh.” Junie groaned. He dipped his fingers in the ink that made his mustache and rubbed it in his hands. He then patted some more on his face, making himself look dirty. He nodded, then pulled on his hair.

“It’s getting long. I need it cut.” He said

“Why not let it get long? That way, you can wear a short wig.” Anton suggested

“Maybe.” Junie shrugged

They left the chapel, Anton to join his father, Junie to the entrance of the ring. He wanted to get this match over with quickly. The bull he fought was slow. All of the “venga’s” and cape waving in the world couldn’t make it go fast enough for Junie. 

It was an interesting corrida for Jorge to watch. He hated to admit it, but that Junie might be better than him. He was a beast, as the rumors said. Especially finishing the bull.

He didn’t bother collecting the flowers when it was all done. Didn’t greet the adoring fans. As soon as the bull was dead, he was gone, Jorge raised an eyebrow at this. Interesting.

Although Junie was nowhere to be found, Jorge did manage to catch up with Anton, asking  to speak in private in the most private place he new. The chapel. Anton feared they would catch Anita mid-Junie. Luckily, there was no trace of either of them.

“Anita hates me.” Jorge said, turning away to the statue of Maria.

“No!” Anton said, “No she doesn’t!”

“I deserved it. Ten years I’ve been gone and she’s been stuck here with Aunt Luisa.” Jorge said, kneeling in front of the statue.

“And me!” Anton added. Jorge glanced back at him briefly.

“She’s not mad, just disappointed. You gave up singing.” Anton said. Jorge went rigid as he turned around. Anton regretted his words instantly.

“Don’t say that don’t you DARE say that!” Jorge stood, stomping up to Anton. The Sanchez towered a head taller over the Mendoza. “I did NOT give up singing! I would never give that up!”

“Then why did you start fighting?” Anton asked. There was a hint of fear in his voice. Jorge heard it, and so backed off, calming himself down a little.

“I thought there was an audition for an opera in Panploma.” Jorge explained, “But… I had fun, and… It payed well. Kept a roof over my head, and food in my belly. Then I was invited to fight all over Europe.”

“The necessity became the hobby, which became the career.” Anton nodded

Jorge nodded his head and pulled his helmet off to run a hand through his hair. He looked up at the portrait of his father. He always hated that scowl.

“I wish my real hobby became my career.” He sighed. Anton came up to him and turned him around.

“I know we have an arrangement already, but how about another one?” He asked. Jorge raised an eyebrow at this.

That night, Anita had trouble falling asleep to silence

The morning after, she awoke smelling something really sweet. She climbed out of her bed and stumbled into the hallway.

“Anton! What’s for breakfast? It smells amazing!” She yelled

In front of her was a small sugary stick on a plate, but no Anton. Anita picked it up and looked it over. One bite, and she was in love. The sugary stick was gone in less than a minute.

She saw another plate in front of the attic door. 

This was a trap. But it was also free sweet food. What was the worse that could happen in her house anyway? When she picked up the second small plate, she noticed the door was slightly ajar. Anita rolled her eyes and sighed.

“May as well.” She whispered

The attic was as dusty as always. The door to the roof was open, the sweet smell came from the outside. Anita climbed out and saw a plate. It was sitting next to Jorge.

“You!” She said angrily. Jorge winced at the loud noise.

“I know, I know, but first.” He said, holding out the plate as a peace offering.

Anita slowly closed the distance between them and snatched the plate away. She stuffed her face with the delicious food.

“They’re called churros. Really popular back in Spain.” Jorge commented, “I think everyone here would like them.”

“I know I do.” Anita nodded her head in agreement. Jorge smiled at her.

She growled and turned away, finishing off the rest of the churros. Jorge sighed and pulled out Pepe the bull from behind him.

“I thought you would want him back.” He said

Anita grabbed one of the toy hooves and looked at her brother. Pepe wasn’t the only thing she wanted back. She pulled her toy back and set down the plate on the roof.

“How could you give up your dream?” She asked, not looking at Jorge.

“I did what I had to survive. I needed the money, and it started getting… Fun. In Europe, I made the savage sport into an art!” Jorge explained. Anita was looking away, at the town. Jorge sighed.

May as well put the rest of his plan in motion.

He scooted himself closer to Anita. He started humming their song. Anita pushed on his armor.

“No! I don’t want to hear that song.” She said

“Oh… Then… Maybe a new one!” Jorge said, standing up. Anita looked up at him as he walked in front of her.

“I know I took the path that you would never want for me,” he sang, kneeling down. Anita huffed and looked away. “I know I let you down, didn’t I?” He stood and looked out at San Angel. “So many sleepless nights where you were waiting up on me,” he looked back at Anita. She might not have looked at him, but she was still listening, “Well I’m just a slave unto the night.”

“Now remember when I told you that’s the last you’ll see of me,” Jorge stepped closer to her.

“No!” Anita scolded

“Remember when I broke you down to tears,” Jorge winced at her tone.

“Every day since you were gone.” Anita grumbled. Jorge sighed and walked to the edge of the roof, not looking away from his sister.

“I know I took the path that you would never want for me,” he held his arms out. “I gave you hell through all the years.”

He leaned back and closed his eye, feeling gravity pull him to the ground below. He smiled when he felt himself stop. he looked down at Anita holding onto his sash.

“So I, I bet my life, I bet my life!” He was pulled up, and started dancing around the roof, getting close to the edges. “I bet my life on you!” Anita chased after him, trying to keep him safe.

“Jorge!” She said, trying to keep her face stern, despite this dancing being kind of fun.

“I, I bet my life, I bet my life,” Jorge took her hands and spun her around before he fell into the attic, “I bet my life on you!”

Anita jumped down, but Jorge couldn’t be found. A letter was at her feet, though. A trail of them continued through the attic. They were all from her.

“I’ve been around the world and never in my wildest dreams,” she heard Jorge sing, “would I come running home to you.” She heard something moving around. Continuing down the trail seemed to lead her to it. She stopped in front of a portrait of a younger Carmelo.

“I’ve told a million lies but now I tell a single truth,” Anita moved the portrait. Jorge was behind it, holding the same pose, a cape over his shoulder. “There’s you in everything I do.”

Anita snorted back a laugh. Jorge suddenly hugged her and held her close. she wanted to be free, but couldn’t find the will to fight back.

“Now remember when I told you that’s the last you’ll see of me,” he sang to her, “Remember when I broke you down to tears.” Tears began streaking down Anita’s cheeks. It was a good thing Jorge wore that armor.

“I know I took the path that you would never want for me,” Anita slowly lifted her arms to hug her brother back, “I gave you hell through all the years.”

Anita was suddenly lifted up over Jorge’s shoulder. She squealed in surprise. Jorge started carrying her through the attic and into the house.

“So I, I bet my life, I bet my life,” he continued his song through the trek, “I bet my life on you!”

“Jorge!” Anita laughed as he brought her into the bullring. He set her down in the audience.

“I, I bet my life,” he jumped down into the ring, “I bet my life,” he unlocked and opened the corral, “I bet my life on you.”

He walked into the center of the ring and pulled the cape off his shoulder. Behind him, the bull snorted and meandered into the ring as well. Jorge didn’t look back. He only stared at Anita.

“Don’t tell me that I’m wrong,
I’ve walked that road before,
And left you on your own.”

Anita felt the tears start flowing anew.

“And please believe me when I say,
That it’s left for yesterday,
And the music that I’ve played,
Please forgive me for all,” he bowed deeply to his sister, “I’ve done.”

“Jorge!” Anita yelled as the bull started to charge. Jorge smirked and with one giant leap, he back flipped over the bull.

“So I, I bet my life, I bet my life,” he sang as he fought the bull, “I bet my life on you!” His moves were graceful and playful, nothing like Junie’s ferocity and tact. “I, I bet my life, I bet my life,” with a swish of a cape, he swept to the side of the beast, “I bet my life on you.”

He spun around and stabbed the bull in the shoulder. It went down against the wall and struggled to stand. Jorge jumped on top of it to deliver the final blow to the neck. The bull was finished. Anita ran down the the metal fence. Jorge stood on the dead bull just below her.

“Jorge.” Anita said

“Nita.” Was his response. He was just happy to see her smiling at him. She slapped him across the face.

“Ow! I deserved that.” Jorge admitted

“Oh, you deserved that and more.” Anita said. She started to walk down the aisle to leave. Jorge was downtrodden. This didn’t work out the way he wanted. He sighed and jumped off the bull, going back to the stables.

“Hey!” Anita yelled. Jorge looked back at her. “Where are you going? Anton should have breakfast ready. Let’s go home.”

Jorge started to cry with a smile on his face. He turned around and climbed into the audience to join his sister.

Home at last.

Chapter Text

How do you make up for lost time after ten years went by?

The question was shared between both Sanchez children. There were so many questions they wanted to ask each other. By night fall, a solution was reached.

Anita came up with a game where her and Jorge would ask each other questions. Jorge was having fun answering while he was cooking in the kitchen. Anton sat on the sofa watching the exchanges.

This was going wonderfully.

“Alright, my turn. Where did you learn to make these sweet little beauties?” Anita asked, holding one of the sugary sticks.

“Like I said earlier, they’re called churros. And they sold them in Spain. They were so good, I had to get the recipe!” Jorge chuckled

“Hm. Churros. Churrrrrrros!” Anita said, rolling her r’s.

“That better not be making fun of me.” Jorge said, hands on his hips.

“Oh, of course not mi preciosa hermanito.” Anita smiled, using the same kind of inflections Jorge used. He rolled his eye.

“My turn, and you better answer me!” Jorge said seriously, pointing a fork at his older sister. Anita laughed and took a seat next to Anton. Her outstretched arm draped itself around Anton’s shoulders.

“By all means.” She said. Jorge inhaled deeply, eye darting between his sister and friend.

“Are the two of you… Sharing… One bed?” Jorge finally spat out the question. Anita almost choked on her churro. She leaned forward and pushed at Anton.

“No! No, we don’t.” Anton answered, patting Anita on the back.

“Yes! No! We don’t!” Anita nodded her head before coughing up a last piece of the churro. “Anton sleeps in the old sewing room.” She wiped her mouth and stood up. 

“And you sleep in Aunt Luisa’s old room.” Jorge nodded

“And you will sleep in our old room.” Anita said

“Yes!” Jorge whispered victoriously. Although Aunt Luisa’s room was the biggest with it’s own bathroom, their old room had the best view of the town. A sight he missed waking up to.

“Now, I am so curious,” Anita said, moving to stand in front of her brother, “have you broken any hearts back in Spain?” Jorge’s eye widened. He gulped down a lump in his throat. He should have expected this question.

“Not exactly.” Jorge said, looking away. Anita chuckled and twirled a lock of curls in her fingers.

“Come on, big bullfighters like you get all the girls to fawn over you.” She said. “Junie certainly had girls screaming for him, throwing flowers and a few… Unmentionable things.” Anita didn’t notice the sly look that crossed her brothers features. He grabbed her hand and twirled her around.

“I will answer that if you answer my next question.” Jorge said, dancing and guiding Anita out of the kitchen, dipping her low, “Anton can’t be the only man wanting you. Any other suitors come knocking at your door?”

Anita braced herself as she pushed away from Jorge, landing flat on her back on the floor. Anton groaned and rubbed his face.

“Don’t get her started.” He whispered, “After Romero Posada’s birthday a few years ago, she hasn’t been too open to the idea of suitors.”

“Didn’t stop them from trying.” Anita grumbled as she stood up. She started pacing and rubbing her arms. “It’s every few weeks I get some love letter or bouquet. Ugh, it’s so annoying!” Her hands moved up to start fidgeting with her necklace. “And Rome stopped, at least. The worst, though! The worst!”

“Who’s the worst?” Jorge asked, ready to find them and show them what for. Anita spun around and pulled her hands together behind her, a smile on her face.

“No. Answer my question.” Anita said. Jorge sighed and rubbed his face. He walked out of the kitchen to sit next to Anton.

“The girls did like me, there was cheering, screaming. There were a couple girls who I liked back. They were nice. But… Their brothers and boyfriends…” He explained. Anton suddenly looked surprised as he figured out what he said.

“Jorge Sanchez, do you…” He started

“Of course he does.” Anita said, plopping down on the other side of Anton, “Even when we were kids he liked both pretty girls and pretty boys.”

“Heh, yeah. We both did.” Jorge said with a smile. A blush started creeping onto his cheeks. Anita leaned forward in her seat to look over at him.

“I’m assuming the people of Spain weren’t fond of your preferences.” She asked. Jorge leaned forward to look at her.

“Not exactly. At least they came to my corridas.” He said

“The Great Jorge Sanchez.” Anita said, leaning back. Jorge stood to walk in front of Anita.

“Well maybe he and the Beast of San Angel should do a corrida together.” He suggested

“Maybe.” Anita said, a smile planted on her face.

She grabbed Jorge’s hand and pulled him to sit in the small space next to her. He struggled and tried to stand, then Anita sat on him. The both of them laughed. Anton laughed and moved to get out of the line of fire. Jorge pulled himself up and rubbed his knuckles through Anita’s hair roughly.

“Stop it!” Anita yelled. Jorge only laughed and continued the attack. Suddenly, Anita grabbed his hand and threw him over her shoulder to the ground. He laid on his back in shock.

“Sorry sorry! Mierda, sorry Jorge.” Anita said

“Are you kidding?!” Jorge asked, sitting up, “That was amazing!” He stood and spun Anita around. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Junie taught me a few things.” Anita said

“I really need to meet him! Maybe we can show me a few things, and I can show him a few things.” Jorge said, tugging on his mustache. Anita smiled.

“I think you’d really hit it off with him.” She said, speaking through her teeth. Anton looked at the Sanchezes, then at the clock.

“It is getting late. Maybe we should all get some sleep.” He suggested. Anita nodded her head and winked at Anton.

“It was a long day.” Jorge nodded in agreement

“A great one though!” Anita hugged him around the center. He twisted and turned in his grip to hug his sister back. They both let go and smiled at each other. 

“Buenas noches, Nita.” Jorge said

“Buenas noches.” Anita said. Jorge started to leave them, when he quickly spun around.

“By the way, who is the most annoying suitor?” He asked. Anita pursed her lips.

“Orli.” She replied

“Espinosa? Hm. I liked him and his sister when we were kids.” Jorge said. He shrugged and left his sister with her boyfriend.

Both her and Anton watched as Jorge walked out of the room. Anton was about to speak. Anita held up her hand. Wood creaked as Jorge climbed the stairs. A door was opened and closed. Anita let out a sigh and took off her wig, running a hand through her real hair.

“I can’t tell him.” She said

“You should tell him. If anybody would find out about Junie, it’s your brother.” Anton explained

“No, it’ll be like Aunt Luisa all over again. Once was enough.” Anita said, looking away.

“It won’t be like that again. It can’t be. Luisa was an old woman, anyway. She was on her way out.” Anton explained

“Yes it can. He won’t understand. Nobody will.” Anita whispered

“Why can’t you just tell people who Junie really is?” Anton finally asked

“Because I’m scared!” Anita said loudly, turning on her heel to face Anton. She covered her mouth, afraid of Jorge coming down or listening to their conversation. Anton was surprised at the revelation. Anita sighed.

“It’s a scary thought, being yourself in front of people. What would they think? What would they say?” She said, turning away from him. “I was always that strange little Sanchez girl nobody really understood, or liked.”

“Not everybody feels that way. Besides, this isn’t about revealing yourself to the town, it’s your brother.” Anton responded. Anita made no motion or sound. Anton let out a yawn and with one parting glance, started to leave.

“Anton.” Anita said, looking at him. “Thank you, mi amor.” Anton smiled.

“Buenas noches, amor.” He said

Anita walked over to the sofa and took a seat. She stroked the wig she removed, thoughts darting in her mind. The two of them were young. Just entering their twenties. But she looked up to the ceiling as one single idea solidified.

She knew what had to be done.

Chapter Text

Junie swung one leg while the other secured his body on the branch he was lying on. He always wanted to climb the tree at the edge of town. When he finally did, he didn’t realize how he would have to wait for his prey. Junie smiled when he started hearing guitar strings being strung below him. He pulled himself to sit up and look down. Anton was teaching someone how to play. Junie slowly crept down the branches until he was just above Anton.

“And hold your hands like this, and you’ve got C major. See?” Anton explained

“Si!” Junie yelled jumping on the branch.

Anton yelled and fell to the ground in shock. Junie laughed so hard he was afraid to fall out of the tree.

“Junie Sanchez that wasn’t funny!” Anton yelled

“I thought it was, actually.” The kid said. Anton sighed and stood up, dusting himself off.

“Smile Anton. It’s beautiful today.” Junie said, sitting on the branch. Anton nodded his head.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” He said. Junie sighed and smiled at the man he loved. His eyes turned to the kid. For this wasn’t the first time he’d seen him.

“Boy, why not play a pretty song, like,” Junie started to hum a tune. Anton looked at him flatly.

“Junie, Juan is still learning. He told me himself how he wanted to learn to pla-” Anton started before Juan started to play the song Junie hummed. This seemed off. Junie started to climb through the tree.

“Oh, there’s a river that winds on forever,” he sang along, “I’m gonna see where it leads.” He reached the top of the tree, holding onto the highest branches. “Oh, there’s a mountain that no man has mounted,” he glanced down below him, “I’m gonna stand on the peak.” He reached a hand out to the sun, looking at the distant horizon.

“Out there’s a land that time don’t command.” He slowly started his descent, giving the sun a final look, “Wanna be the first to arrive.” He turned his focus down to the branches surrounding him. “No time for ponderin’ why I’m a-wanderin’, nowhere the bushes lay.” There was a clear path below him. Junie inhaled deeply and took a chance. He leapt.

“To the ends of the earth would you follow me?” He landed on his feet on a branch. “There’s a world that was meant for our eyes to see.” Grabbing and walking through the leaves, he looked out of the tree at San Angel. “To the ends of the earth would you follow me?” He swung on the branches he held above his head to let himself fall further through the tree. “If you will have a say my goodbyes to me.” Junie landed on his feet below the tree. He was sure that would have gone badly.

“Junie, what are you doing?” Anton asked, coming around the tree to him. Junie grabbed his hands.

“Dance with me.” He said

“What?” Anton asked. Junie leaned in closer.

“Dance with me.” He whispered

Junie led Anton in a slow dance, not a waltz. It was a nice moment. Especially with the music Juan was playing. Anton was annoyed that Juan lied to him, but he was overjoyed by the fact that Junie set this all up for him. Junie spun him around. He stopped dancing and held a hand out to San Angel.

“Oh, there’s an island where all things are silent,” he sang, pulling back his hand, “I’m gonna whistle a tune.” Junie reached his other hand out to the desert surrounding their little town. “Oh, there’s a desert that size can’t be measured,” he pulled his hand back, “I’m gonna count all the dunes.” Junie started to dance with Anton again. And again, Anton was happy with all of this, but at the same time, he wondered why Junie was doing this for him.

“Out there’s a world that calls for this girl, headin’ out into the unknown.” Junie continued, dropping Anton into a dip before pulling him back up, “Wayfarin’ strangers and all kinds of danger,” Anton felt himself be let go of when he was spun around, “please don’t say I’m going alone.”

Junie was kneeling in front of him.

Juan was playing his guitar, the sun was shining beautifully in the sky, and Junie was kneeling in front of Anton.

“Junie?” Anton asked

“I know, this isn’t anything like you were expecting.” Junie started, “But hear me out. I am stubborn, I have a temper, and lord knows I am not the girliest girl in the town. In the world. But you.” Junie took Anton’s hand. “You are kind, patient, and a loving individual. You’ve saved my sanity and my life on more than one occasion. You brought back my brother. You have been with me through hell and high water. And it hurts… To even imagine a life… Without you. It’s not easy to live a life with a Sanchez. But you have done wonderfully so far. How about keeping it up for a few more years? Anton Mendoza, will you marry me?”

Both Anton and Junie were in tears by the end. Anton knelt down with Junie and reach out for his other hand. There were no words to be said. Anton laughed and just nodded his head through his tears. Junie smiled and started laughing too.

Junie scooped Anton up and spun him around in a tight hug. They held each other and kissed deeply, enjoying every second as if it were their last. They stopped together and collected their thoughts. So much happened in so little time, after all.

“What do I tell Jorge?” Anita asked, rubbing off her mustache.

“What do I tell Jorge. We had a plan for me to propose to you. It would have been spectacular!” Anton said

“Is that so?” Anita asked with a raised eyebrow. “How much work went into it?”

“A lot.” Anton admitted. Anita stepped back and crossed her arms. Her smile only grew.

“Then I guess I can wait.” She said. This surprised Anton. He had to do a double take to realize what his fiancé just said.

“What?” He asked

“You already had a plan, so why waste it. Let’s keep this our little secret, then. And don’t forget, I proposed first.” Anita walked closer to him to give Anton a little peck on the lips before walking off.

Almost a week later…

Anita played with a curl hanging by her ear. It seemed to have grown longer than the rest of her hair. She was sitting on her sofa, reading a book by the candlelight that kept the dark home alight in the night.

There was a knock on the front door.

Anita put her wig on. Her hair was almost long enough to not use it, though. When the door was opened, Anita just stared. Anton stood before her, wearing a brown traje de luces, with matching sombrero, with his guitar in hand.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

Anton rolled his eyes and came into the house. Anita laughed and collapsed on the couch. She looked back at Anton and started laughing again. Anton sighed and crossed his arms. The laughter subsided, finally. Anita rubbed at her tears.

“Are you done yet?” Anton asked

“Why are you wearing that?” Anita finally asked

“It will make sense later.” Anton said with a smile. Realization hit Anita.

“Oh, this is your proposal.” She said. She stood and dusted herself off, readjusted her wig, and wiped the rest of her tears away. She took a deep breath, composing herself.

“Continue.” She said. Anton rolled his shoulders and twisted his back.

“Anita Sanchez, are you ready for a great night?” Anton said loudly

“Yes but why are you shouting?” Anita said loudly back.

“Alright!” Anton shouted. He focused on his guitar and plucked out a tune. It was slow. Nice.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he sang,
“We’re looking for something dumb to do.
Hey baby,
I think I wanna marry you.” He started walking around Anita.

“Oh yes, very direct.” Anita said, mockingly.

“Is it the look in your eyes,” he continued, ignoring Anita’s comment, “Or is it this dancing juice?” He did a little two step and spun around. “Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry,” he leaned in closed to Anita, “you.”

He picked up the pace with his strumming and ran outside, Anita followed. They stopped with a good view of the church.

“Well I know this little chapel on the boulevard we can go oh oh oh!” He sang

“No oh oh oh.” Anita sang back, walking away.

“No one will know oh oh oh,” Anton tried, following after.

“No oh oh oh.” Anita sang, giving Anton a smirk and glance over her shoulder.

“Oh, come on, girl.” Anton wrapped an arm around Anita and started leading her in a different direction. “They think we’re all trash, got a pocket full of cash we can blow oh oh oh,” they stopped at the entrance to their favorite bar, “Shots round the floor!” Everybody cheered, raising their glasses. “And it’s on, girl.”

Anton ran away. Anita chased after him, staying on his heels no matter where he went.

“Don’t say no, no, no, no-no,” he sang walking up a stack of crates, “Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah,” they both made it onto a roof. “And we’ll go, go, go, go-go.” Anton stopped at the edge and leaned back. “If you’re ready,” he fell and landed in a cart full of hay, “like I’m ready.” Anita jumped down to join him. The cart took of for it has hem still in the hay.

“Cause it’s a beautiful night,
We’re looking for something dumb to do.
Hey baby,
I think I wanna marry you.”

The cart stopped at the theater, a place rarely visited by either of them. Anton was the first out, but he helped Anita climb out.

“Is it the look in your eyes, or is it this dancing juice?” He pushed the doors open. A choir was set up on stage, along with a small band, with Jorge the conductor.

“Who cares baby,” Anton and Anita walked to the stage and climbed up, “I think I wanna marry you.” Anton nodded his head and Jorge cued the choir of children to start singing along. He put his guitar down and started dancing with Anita.

“I’ll go get a ring let the choir all sing like oooh,” he sang

“Oooh.” The children sang

“So what you wanna do?” Anton asked

“Oooh.” The children added, Anton spun Anita around and let her go.

“Let’s just run girl.” A trap door opened beneath Anita, dumping her into a pile of pillows.

“And if you wake up and you wanna break up that’s cool.” Sang one of the children, looking down at her. Jorge reached down to pull Anita back on stage.

“No, he won’t blame you,” he sang, holding a hand out to the open doors. The children were already filing out to go into the cart.

“It was fun, girl.” They sang. Anita ran and climbed in as well.

“Don’t say no, no, no, no-no,” the children sang to Anita as they rode on,
“Just say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah,
And we’ll go, go, go, go-go,
If you’re ready, like he’s ready.”

They stopped at the bullring and all piled out. The children ran in all directions into the audience of the arena. Jorge pulled Anita along with him into the special booth.

“Cause it’s a beautiful night,” came the echoing voices from all around,
“We’re looking for something dumb to do.
Hey baby,
I think I wanna marry you.”

Anton was in the center of the ring, a red cape on his shoulder. He pulled it off when the corral opened up.

“Is it the look in your eyes,” he looked back and winked at Anita, “Or is it this dancing juice?” When the bull came out, Anton moved and danced around it, like Jorge, “Who cares baby, I think I wanna marry you.”

The bull was smaller than what Jorge and Junie were used to handling, but it was still a lot of work for Anton to handle. Every time he looked to the audience, he remembered why he was doing this.

“Just say I doooooo-ooo uhu,” he sang loudly to Anita, dodging the bull. “Tell me right now baby,” he was faring pretty well, but he wasn’t the best matador. “Tell me right now baby, baby.”

The bull was close to getting him. Jorge wrapped an arm around his sister to keep her calm. They were kicking up a lot of dust. It was getting harder for everyone to see.

“Just say I doooooo-ooo uhu, whoa!” he sounded more desperate as the bull got smarter to his tricks. “Tell me right now baby! TELL ME RIGHT NOW BABY!” Jorge and Anita both jumped into the ring when the cloud of dust filled the space. Anita was scared for Anton. But nothing was moving in the cloud. It was quiet just for a moment.

“Oh, it’s a beautiful night,” came Anton’s voice, with the children in the audience singing along, “We’re looking for something dumb to do.” Anita looked into the audience and saw lanterns being lit all around the ring, “Hey baby,” Anton emerged from the cloud in front of Anita, “I think I wanna marry you.” He waved his cape around them, blowing the dust away.

Jorge stood next to the dead bull. Something was carved into the dirt, too. Anita backed away to try to make out what it said.

“Is it the look in your eyes,” Anton sang, following her, “Or is it this dancing juice?”

Anita gasped when she realized what was carved into the ground. A giant “Marry me?” starred her in the face. Anton held her hand and smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Who cares baby,” Anton lowered himself to one knee, “I think I wanna marry you.” Anita was speechless. This was nothing like she expected, but it was better. So much better.

“So? Anything you want to say?” Anton asked

“Of course.” Anita said. She started wrapping her arms around him. “Get over here!” They both fell to the ground laughing and kissing. Jorge started laughing as well.

It was about time.

Chapter Text

It took weeks to make arrangements with the church, with Ricardo and his brothers to play music after, calling on the butcher, baker, and tailor for their respective needs from each, and to send out the invitations.

But there were a few details Anita dreaded to address.

“Junie can’t be Anton’s best man.” She told Jorge, flipping through a small black book as she sat on the sofa. It was the towns directory.

“And what is his reason not to?” He sighed annoyingly. It was suspicious to him that he has never met Junie face to face. He also noticed Anita never seemed to be around when Junie was in a corrida, but he decided not to press that matter further.

Not yet at least.

“He hates weddings. Always makes him cry. He never wants anyone to see him cry.” Anita explained. She examined the page she was stopped on, then shook her head. Jorge remained silent until he watched his older sister repeat the process.

“What are you doing?” He sighed

“A bride needs bridesmaids and a maid of honor.” Anita explained

“What about our cousins?” Jorge said, picking up a fat stack of rsvp’s. He rifled through them to find the women amongst them. “What about… Marcella?” 

“Ugh, that girl wouldn’t know the difference between a bull and a horse.” Anita said, stopping on one page. “Esme Silva?”

“Looks pretty, but don’t forget to count your fingers after you shake hands with her.” Jorge remarked

“Why can’t you be best man?” Anita asked suddenly

“Oh, Anton offered. But I was just thinking Junie would be a better idea. He’s been with you two longer than me.” Jorge said, crossing his arms. Anita snapped the book closed and ran her fingers through her hair beneath her wig. Won’t be long until she didn’t need it anymore.

Why couldn’t this be as easy as bullfighting?

“Let’s discuss other things, hm?” Jorge said, pulling the book away. “Are you using mama’s dress?”

“Of course.” Came her mumbled response

“And the flowers. Did you order them from the florist yet?” Jorge asked. He was surprised by Anita standing suddenly.

“I need a walk.” Anita said

Too many details, too many things to do. Anita actually wished Aunt Luisa was still here to help her, Jorge, and Anton. 

It was the first moment she actually felt the heartache that came with missing someone long gone… For Aunt Luisa. She looked down at her hand and reached up to knock on the door she stopped in front of.

A young woman with light brown hair opened the door. She smirked, her bright red lips glistening in the sunlight as she leaned on the door jamb. Anita moaned, trying to look away.

“Anita Sanchez.” She said

“Gabriela Espinosa. How is your brother?” Anita asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mourning the loss of you. But otherwise, fine. He enjoys discussions with my new father-in-law.” Gabriela explained. She nonchalantly pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, revealing the bright ring she was now wearing. Anita’s eyes widened at the sight of the stone.

“No way.” She said. Gabriela chuckled. She stood and dusted herself off.

“What do you want? A cup of sugar? Fabric for a cape? A new casket?” She asked. Anita moaned and clenched her fists.

“I don’t have a lot of friends. And I’m marrying Anton soon.” Anita started

“Not interested.” Gabriela said, a smile on her face. She started to close the door. Anita was a fast and slid past her into the house.

“You don’t have to stay for everything. Just stand next to me for the service, leave, and the end.” Anita explained, while Gabriela was still shocked at the fluidity of Anita, “Not the maid of honor, just a bridesmaid. I know we weren’t really friends.”

“Of course! Especially with the way you were teasing me!” She responded

“What? No, you were teasing me!” Anita yelled. The girls had a back and forth argument of who was making fun of whom. Nobody was getting anywhere with each other.

Anita froze when she saw a man walking through the house towards them. A face she would never forget. The one who was always trying to take the bullring from her family. The one who tried to steal from her family after her father died.

The señor.

“Señorita Sanchez.” He said smoothly. Anita scowled. “Why the angry face? You should be happy. You’ll be wed, and a real man would be in charge of your family’s bullring.” 

She was going to kill him. Anita was going to kill that man, bury him in the desert, and say the wolves got him. She didn’t care if he was a soldier as well, or the high rank he carried. The man was nothing but trouble from the start. 

Her nails dug into her palm as her fists clenched tighter. She thought she would draw blood.

Gabriela stepped between them.

“Señor, Anita was just leaving.” She said. Anita exhaled and turned away.

“Running away?” The señor asked, quirking one eyebrow up. Gabriela backed off just in time. Anita spun on her heel and punched the señor squarely in the nose. He was thrown back and collapsed in an unconscious heap.

Dios mio, that felt good.

“Thank you for your time.” She said to the stunned Gabriela before walking out of the house. Gabriela surprisingly came after her.

“Look, I know we didn’t have a real friendship growing up. But I would be lying if I didn’t say my father-in-law didn’t have it coming.” She said, walking with Anita. The Sanchez sighed.

“So… What I said before?” She asked

“Deal.” Gabriela said, holding her hand out. Anita stopped to look at it.

“Just keep that… That!… MONDRAGON… Away from my wedding, and out of my life.” She said

“The wedding I can guarantee, but the life, I don’t know.” Gabriela said

“Good enough for me.” Anita said before shaking her hand. Her smile faltered as her mind wandered. It wandered over things that had been and needed to be settled.

Jorge walked into the chapel, where Anita was wearing Junie’s clothes. He raised an eyebrow at the sight.

“You asked me here to show me your traje de luces?” He asked

“No.” She said, shaking her head. She smeared on Junie’s mustache and pulled his wig off. Junie sighed, watching the realization appear on Jorge’s face.

“No more secrets. Let’s just start over.” He said. Jorge walked around Junie, looking him up and down. He stopped and stood in front of him.

He laughed.

“You think this is funny?” Junie asked, appalled at the action.

“No! It’s just that I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!” Jorge said. Junie was surprised at first, but slowly he smiled.

“Well, we haven’t met face to face.” He pointed out. Jorge rubbed a bit of black off of Junie’s face and smelled it.

“Dye?” He asked

“Ink holds up better.” Junie said, nodding his head.

“So this is why Junie can’t be the best man. I believe this brings new meaning to the word bridegroom.” Jorge commented

“You goofball!” Junie laughed and pushed on his face, laughing. Jorge laughed and ran his hands through Junie’s hair, messing it up like Anita did to him.

Anton watched from outside the door. He nodded his head and walked away to Casa Sanchez.

Chapter Text

“This is it. The big moment. I wish you were here. Oh, I wish.” Anita said to her father’s portrait. Jorge opened the door and walked into the chapel.

He found his sister in her wedding dress. She resembled the portrait of their mother. She spun around and pushed a few stray curls out of her face.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He said. Anita smiled at him. “How are you feeling? Scared? Nervous?”

“Excited.” Anita said, “I wish mama and papa were here, though.” 

“Yeah, papa.” Jorge agreed, giving the portrait an uneasy glance. “Do you have everything?”

“Something old, my dress. Something borrowed, Marcella’s pearls. Something blue, the ribbon around my bouquet.” Anita listed off, fixing Jorge’s tie.

“And something new?” He asked, eyebrow raised. Anita knelt down and pulled a coin from her shoe.

“One new peso.” She said before putting it back. They two just stared at each other.

They were children when Jorge left. Now, look at them. Jorge pulled Anita into a tight hug. He glanced at his father’s portrait. Her hero, his frustration.

How could he tell Anita the displeasure the very image gave him? He looked away and pushed Anita back, looking into her eyes.

“I have a little something for you.” Jorge reached into his pocket to pull out a white folded napkin. When he unfolded it, a dried up bull ear was visible.

“Your first?” Anita asked, taking the napkin and ear.

“My first.” Jorge nodded. Anita folded the napkin around the ear again. She looked up at her brother.

“I wish I was there. I should have been there for your first corrida.” Anita said, “But then again, if I left, I never would have become Junie, met Anton, none of this would be happening.” Anita looked away rubbed at her eyes, feeling tears welling up in them.

“Are you ready?” He asked, tears in his eye as well.

“Yes!” Anita said

Jorge held out his arm, bowing just slightly. Anita chuckled and took it. He led her from the chapel to the street. A carriage was awaiting them. Jorge noticed a white cat down the street behind them fighting a black cat. 

Anita started watching as well. The white cat was chased away, leaving the black cat alone. It licked it’s paw and looked up at the humans watching him. It sneezed before walking away.

“Is that a good sign?” Anita inquired

“A very good one.” Jorge chuckled. He bowed and opened the carriage door, holding a hand out. “My lady.”

“Gracias señor.” Anita curtsied, letting him help her in. 

She didn’t realize just how nervous Jorge was for her. Being in different countries taught him many customs, including superstitions. There were many he heard of when it came to weddings. The ones he remembered were the bad omens. He sat across from Anita in the carriage and closed the door. The driver urged his horse onward to the church.

“Are you sure about the pearls?” Jorge asked

“Yes. I like them. They’re pretty.” Anita said, turning to the window. “Besides, Marcella would have cried a river if I didn’t accept them.” 

Jorge looked out the opposite window. They were starting to slow down near a pig pen. Jorge stiffened then pulled the blinds down quickly.

“What was that about?” Anita asked, looking at him. Jorge saw another pig pen on their other side. Jorge quickly reached over to close that blind as well.

“Nothing! Nothing, nothing you want… To see anything… Bad.” He said, sitting still in his seat, looking down at his hands. Anita pulled his chin up to look him in the eye. It was a flat look she gave him.

“Jorge Carmelo Sanchez, what is the worst thing I could see on my wedding day?” She asked, give a tug on the blind to let it roll up. Outside, just in the distance, a rainbow was visible in the blue sky.

Then, the moment finally came.

They arrived at the church.

Jorge climbed out of the carriage first. The driver climbed down. Jorge noticed the cross hanging around his neck and smiled. He looked behind him. Then he looked back in the carriage.

“Nita?” He whispered, surprising her.

She looked scared. He climbed in next to her and wrapped his arms around her.

“You two have wanted this for a long time.” He said softly

“What do we do after?” Anita asked

“Have a wonderful honeymoon by the sea, then you could come home, Junie could keep bullfighting, Anton can keep soldiering, you’ll live your lives happily. You’ll write your own stories and end them when you’re ready.” Jorge explained

Anita looked into his face, tears in her eyes. She sniffled and hugged her brother tighter. after a moment she pulled away and rubbed her eyes.

“Ready?” Jorge asked. He climbed out of the carriage and held a hand out to help her out.

“Are you?” Anita asked, letting him help her. He laughed. And together, they walked into the church.

“There you are.” Gabriella said once they arrived. She passed Anita her bouquet of marigolds, then walked down the aisle herself to the altar, standing opposite of señor Mendoza, Anton’s best man, and the groom himself, wearing formal attire fitting a soldier, his back facing them.

The wedding march was played on the organ. Everyone stood to watch Anita and Jorge walk down the aisle. Even señor Mendoza looked impressed. Anton finally turned around and was awestruck by Anita’s appearance. He looked as though he may cry.

Father Sabado read a passage from the bible and spoke of the beauty of love and marriage. It was wonderful and nice.

“Anton Mendoza, do you take this woman to be your wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health?” He asked

“I do.” Anton nodded

“Anita Sanchez, do you take this man to be your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness android no health?” He asked Anita

“With all my heart, I do.” Anita said. She leaned forward and whispered into Father Sabado’s ear. He nodded his head.

“And now the rings.” He said, “The couple would like to share a few words, as well.”

A young cousin on Anton’s side of the family came forward carrying a small pillow with two rings on it. Both bride and groom picked up each other’s rings.

“Anita Sanchez, you are a strong woman who I know could take me down with one look. I love you, and would love to be by your side, through thick and thin, he’ll and high water. So with all my heart I say… With this ring, I three wed.” Anton said, slipping the ring onto Anita’s finger

“Anton Mendoza, you are the ice to my fire, the ear to my yells, the matador to my bull. Whenever I need a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand, you were always there. Now, my heart soars knowing that you aren’t going anywhere for a while. We’re the best team ever. And with this ring, I thee wed.” Anita said, slipping the ring onto Anton’s finger.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Father Sabado said

Anton and Anita kissed. Everybody cheered. Ricardo Rodriguez and his brothers started playing their instruments. Anita felt like she couldn’t stop smiling as she walked down the aisle with her husband.

Her husband.

“In the middle of the night,” Anita sang along with the music, “when the angels scream,” they walked out of the church as the congregation filed out around them, “I don’t want to live a lie that I believe.” Gabriela and all of the unmarried women bunched together at the bottom of the steps in front of them. “Time to do or die.” Anita turned around and gave Anton another kiss.

“I will never forget the moment, the moment.” She sang, “I will never forget the moment.”

The bouquet was thrown into the air, and the women scrambled to catch it.

“And the story goes on… on… on…” Anita turned around to walk down the steps with Anton. Everyone gathered around them as they started dancing. “That’s how the story goes.” The crowd formed a heart around the young couple. “That’s how the story goes.”

“You and I will never die.” Anton sang, “It’s a dark embrace.” Anita leaned forward to put her head on his chest, “In the beginning was life, a dawning age.” Jorge tapped on Anton’s shoulder to cut in. “Time to be alive.” He nodded his a head and passed Anita to her brother. He stepped back to watch.

“I will never forget the moment, the moment.” He sang, “I will never forget this night we sing, we sing…” Anita pulled Anton and Jorge together to dance with both of them. It felt more like they were just spinning together quickly in a circle.

“On… on… on…” They sang, “That’s how the story goes.”

Anton and Jorge suddenly realized they were alone. They looked around, but couldn’t see Anita. It was like she vanished into thin air.

“Fate is coming, that I know!” Anita sang loudly, leaning out a window of the bell tower. “Time is running, got to go.
Fate is coming, that I know.
Let it go.”

Anton and Jorge run to the church doors, but they were locked. Anita was climbing the steps to the top, but they still heard her singing.

“Here right now!” Came her voice, “Under the banner of heaven, we dream out loud.” Both men stood at the base of the tower and realized just what their girl wanted them to do.

“Do or die, and the story goes.” Anton sang, grabbing onto the bricks and pulling himself up

“On… on… on…” Jorge said, climbing with him. Anton wondered how it was so easy for his wife to do it. He slipped and Jorge caught him, pulling him up to find new foot and hand holes.

“And the story goes on… on…” Came Anita’s singing voice, urging them on like a siren at sea. It only made the men climb faster. They helped each other reach the top and climb over the lip. Anita stood in front of the giant bell, lanterns lit and lining the roof surrounding them.

“This is the story.” Anton sang. The three ran to each other, hugged, kissed,  danced, and sang all together, their voices mingling and matching with one another’s.

“Fate is coming, that I know,” Anita sang 

“This is the story!” Jorge sang

“Time is running, got to go,” Anton sang 

“This is the story!” Anita sang

“Fate is coming, that I know,” Jorge sang 

“This is the story!” Anton sang

“Let it go.” Anita sang. They all held each other’s hands and spun around in a circle. Anita’s wig fell off, landing beneath the bell behind them.

“Here right now,” they sang together, “Under the banner of heaven, we dream out loud!” Tired, but happy, they all collapsed in a laughing heap, “Dream out loud!”

“Fate is coming, that I know,” Anita sang softly, taking Anton’s hand.

“Time to do or die.” He sang

“Time is running out.” Jorge said, taking Anita’s other hand. 

“Time to do or die.” She sang

“Fate is coming, that I know.” Anton said, taking Jorge’s hand

“Time to do or die.” He sang

“Let it go…” Anita sang

For a moment, they just laid like that. Listening to the music and crowd below them. Anita sat up to pull her stockings off. When she threw them behind her, they landed in a bunch. Anton and Jorge sat up and moved to sit on both of her sides. They watched as the sun began it’s descent in the horizon, but did look at each other, one single truth shared amongst them.

Nothing is going to stay the same now.

Things might for a while, but at this time in their lives, nothing was going to be permanent anymore. Anita hoped and prayed that troubles wouldn’t stay for long for the rest of her life. Sitting with her two boys made her realize how much she had changed in the years.

Her’s was once the story of a little girl finding herself, realizing what was important most to her. Family, honor, history. Perhaps she will reveal Junie is her, perhaps not. The future is always in the air.

The tale of the girl is ended, but the legend of the woman has only just begun…