A Mixture of Mischief

by Anna Meriano

  “Leo.” Daddy jumped off the bed and tried to wrap her in a hug, but he held up his hands and stepped back when she flinched away. Instead, he knelt on the floor in front of her, eyes level with hers. “I’m not a brujo,” he said. “Everything I told you was the truth: I don’t have powers, my family doesn’t have powers.” Leo scowled and scoffed, but Daddy shook his head. “My father . . . wasn’t part of my life. He left as soon as he realized that none of his children—me, your aunt Rita, your uncle Alberto—had any magic.”

  Leo frowned at the ground. Now she remembered Abuelo Logroño saying that his children had no powers. When she’d first found out that all her sisters were practicing magic without her, she had worried that her own powers didn’t exist. She had spent months wondering why she didn’t have a birth-order power. And even after leading the spirits through the gate in January, she had worried that her power wasn’t nearly as strong or useful as the rest of her family’s abilities. But as much as she hated the thought of being left out of the bakery secrets, she had never worried that her family wouldn’t love her if she didn’t have magic.

  Poor Daddy.

  “Your grandma never told us much besides his name. I grew up totally unmagical in a totally unmagical family. Everything I told you—about meeting your mamá, about not believing the things she told me—all that is true.”

  Leo started to feel guilty for accusing Daddy of lying, but then he continued.

  “It wasn’t until Isabel was born that Álvaro showed up. I had never known him, but suddenly here he was, making a lot of fancy speeches about her birthright. I guess he expected us to be dazzled by the idea of magic, or if that wasn’t enough, then by his illusion spell.” Daddy’s frown turned into a crooked smile. “He definitely didn’t count on Elena and Lucero having powers of their own.”

  Leo smiled too, imagining Mamá and Abuela facing off against the old brujo. In her head, the two sides of her family posed on either side of a jagged red line like the characters on the cover of Alma and Belén’s comic, except instead of fighting over treasure or the fate of the world, they were fighting over a baby.

  “He wanted to test Isabel’s power and train her in the Logroño style,” Mamá said. “We tried to explain that we had our own way of doing things as brujas cocineras. We were never interested in our children’s following Álvaro’s path.”

  Leo wasn’t sure why there had to be two paths. “Because he can make himself invisible?” she asked. She thought of the way her own fingers had disappeared into the shadows; she hid her hands behind her back.

  “Of course not,” Mamá said. “This isn’t about what power he has. It’s . . . Just trust me, Leo, he’s bad news.”

  “Well, it sounds like maybe he just wanted to teach us different magic.” Leo raised her chin while Mamá and Daddy frowned at each other. “That doesn’t seem like a bad thing.”

  “It’s not an issue of different powers,” Mamá said. “It’s an issue of different philosophy. What he thinks power is for.”

  “He told me it was to protect people,” Leo said. “To protect humans from . . . I don’t know, monsters and things. Vampires and . . . what are sirens?”

  “Sirenas are mermaids,” Daddy said softly. Leo’s eyes popped open. Mermaids were real? And Abuelo Logroño wanted to fight them?

  “He called them monsters.” Mamá clicked her tongue. “They’re just magical folk, same as brujos and brujas.”

  “But mermaids,” Leo whispered reverently.

  “Magical humans like us, we recognize and respect that we aren’t the only intelligent species sharing this world,” Mamá fumed. “We don’t go bothering nature spirits or hadas that aren’t hurting anyone. Your grandfather is part of an old tradition and an old war that the rest of us stopped fighting centuries ago. Magical communities can govern themselves and have been doing it for years. Some of them want to live hidden among nonmagical folks, but most keep to themselves. The only conflict comes from folks like him who don’t want to let old prejudices die.” Mamá’s chest rose and fell, her face pink. “I’m sorry, Leo, I’m not angry at you. It just makes me so . . .” She huffed out a long breath. “I’ve raised this question with the Southwest Regional Brujería and Spellcraft Association before—they should be doing more to stop Álvaro and his type, watching him more closely. His ideas are dangerous. I was raised to use magic for love, and that’s what I want to teach my girls.”

  “You did. I just didn’t know anything about magical communities or . . . I didn’t know.”

  Leo wanted to use magic the way Mamá did, to make people happy and bring people together. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, magical or not. She kind of wanted to meet a mermaid. But when Abuelo Logroño had told her she could fight for good, it had felt more exciting and heroic than baking lucky cookies. It felt like something that would happen in a movie Daddy would want to see, not something he would think was boring.

  Abuelo Logroño had lied about magical folk, calling them dangerous monsters. Mamá had lied about them too, by not telling Leo they existed. She and Daddy had both lied about his family magic. When would grown-ups stop lying about everything important?

  “I got sloppy,” Mamá said. “Álvaro would show up when each of you girls were born, getting more and more insistent until we finally decided to keep him away with warding spells. That was when Alma and Belén were little, and we haven’t seen him since. I assumed he had given up by now; it’s been years since I renewed the spell.” Mamá sighed. “It couldn’t have happened at a worse time, with Easter orders coming in for next week, and us so shorthanded.”

  “I can handle a warding spell.” Isabel spoke from the doorway, startling Leo and both her parents. Marisol leaned over her shoulder, waving sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” Isabel added, pulling the door shut behind them. “But you were kind of . . . yelling. We came to warn you to keep it down so you wouldn’t wake up JP. And then, well, we couldn’t help overhearing. I’ve been reading about wards. You and I can do this, Mamá.”

  “I suppose,” Mamá said. “But then we won’t be able to open the bakery today.”

  “Why not?” Marisol asked. “If it’s that important, Leo and I can handle it, with Daddy’s help. We might not get all the shelves full, but we can still stay open as long as we have bolillos and conchas.”

  “And we wouldn’t have to be gone for the whole day just to cast a warding spell,” Isabel added. “We can be back before lunch probably.”

  Mamá chewed her lip. “You girls are right.” She scrunched her eyebrows at Leo. “Let Marisol start up the oven and swap the trays, okay, ’jita? Luis, you can help with that part. Use oven mitts this time, please.” Daddy looked offended by the advice, but Mamá ignored him. “We’ll get this done as soon as we can, and then we’ll be back at the bakery before you— Oh!” Mamá’s arms flew up in frustration. “But what about JP?”

  “Don’t worry,” Leo said. “I have an idea for him. Can I borrow someone’s phone?”

  Marisol tucked her phone back into her pocket slowly, but Isabel passed hers over.

  “I have to ask . . . do we really need to do all this?” Marisol said. “You’re sure we can’t just, I don’t know, talk to the guy? If he’s our abuelo?”

  Isabel frowned and elbowed her sister while Leo punched in the memorized numbers and sent her text. “But when else will I ever get a chance to do a warding spell?” she whispered.

  Daddy put one hand on Marisol’s shoulder. “My father,” he said, “is not someone we want you girls to have in your lives. It’s not just that he cares about power more than anything, or has a pattern of ignoring us when we try to talk to him. He knows how to manipulate people.”

  Leo thought about how proud she had felt when Abuelo Logroño had told her she had power greater than anyone else in her family. He’d made it seem special. But . . . there was also a hint of cruelty to his compliments.

  “We should do it,” she said. Isabel’s phone buzzed in her hand, and she smiled reading
the response. “Let’s get going. I have biscuits for breakfast, and Caroline’s going to meet us at the bakery to babysit JP in like an hour.”

  Leo felt a twinge of disappointment letting go of the idea of becoming a powerful hero, the only person strong enough to stand in the face of danger. But that idea sounded lonely anyway. She’d much rather face danger with the power of her family surrounding her.

  CHAPTER 7

  HONEYBEES

  The front doorbell dinged just as Leo handed JP a stack of dirty bowls to carry to the sink. Her cousin, who was unaccustomed to bakers’ hours and was half asleep on his feet, had insisted on helping, since Mamá and Isabel had to stay home to handle the “pest problem” Leo claimed to have discovered in the middle of the night. It was nice of him to want to help, Leo had reminded herself at least twenty times while shooing JP away from tasting raw cookie dough or burning himself on a hot cake tin. Still, she rushed out of the kitchen at the sound of the bell, excited to greet Caroline and Brent, both of them still wiping sleep from their eyes.

  “Hi, Mr. Logroño.” Brent yawned hugely, his eyes glued to the bakery shelves. “May I please have something to eat?”

  Leo had promised Brent free bakery food for life after his help rounding up the pack of spirits in January, but Daddy hated to see the perpetually hungry sixth grader raiding the shelves, so Brent made a point to ask permission.

  “Help yourself.” Daddy smiled, “You too, Caroline. I hope Leo didn’t wake you up too early.”

  “There aren’t any cinnamon rolls yet,” Leo said, guessing what Caroline was looking for on the still half-empty shelves. “Thanks for coming, both of you. It’s just me and Marisol this morning, so we’re a little bit behind.”

  Brent widened his eyes over a huge mouthful of pineapple empanada. “Wha’appened?”

  The saloon-style blue doors between the bakery kitchen and storefront clacked open and Marisol appeared, ushering JP out ahead of her and looking frazzled.

  “Just a pest problem at home,” she said, wiping a line of flour off her cheek but leaving a streak of chocolate in its place. “Mamá and Isabel are dealing with it.”

  “Couldn’t y’all call an exterminator?” Brent asked. Caroline, seeing Leo’s tiny head shake, tried to quiet him by tugging his sleeve, but he was busy taking another bite and eyeing JP curiously. “Who’s this?”

  “That’s probably her cousin,” Caroline whispered. “The one we’re going to hang out with?”

  “You’re Leo’s cousin?” Brent’s mouth hung open, braces flashing, “But you’re so tall!”

  JP nodded and waved. Leo hoped introductions might work to change the subject, but instead JP said, “I was wondering why there wasn’t an exterminator around too. I figured it was because this is such a small town. Like how y’all don’t have food delivery apps.”

  Caroline let out a surprised laugh.

  “Actually, Brent,” Leo said sharply, “it’s something my mom wants to take care of herself because it’s kind of special and delicate. I think she has an old family tradition to deal with pests.”

  “That’s a weird family traditi— Oh,” Brent’s eyes lit up just in time to avoid getting his toes stomped by Leo in a desperate attempt to clue him in. “Um, yep, that makes sense. We’re just, uh, small-town folk who like to take care of pests ourselves. Like, uh, farmers.” Caroline raised her eyebrows, and Brent shrugged.

  “Anyway, hi.” Caroline smiled wide at JP. “We’re Leo’s friends. We’re not farmers. I used to live in Houston. You live in Austin, right?”

  “Yeah, but I was in Houston for a while too,” JP said, and smiled. He left Marisol’s side to get closer to Leo and her friends.

  “Cool!” Caroline squeaked. “Um, at least I hope it was cool. I hope you weren’t there to go to the medical center, like my family.” The tips of her ears were bright pink, which wasn’t totally unusual, but her shyness usually made her quiet, not squeaky and talkative.

  “I’m Brent.” Brent held out his hand; JP hesitated before shaking it. “I don’t live in Houston.”

  “Yeah, I figured you lived here,” JP said. He glanced at Leo, who couldn’t offer any explanation for why her friends were babbling. “I’m JP.”

  Caroline and Brent both laughed at that for some reason. JP was right about Rose Hill being small. New faces always created a stir of excitement, but it was funny to think of JP like a mysterious new kid in school.

  A customer came in, sending Marisol scurrying back into the kitchen and Daddy back to his seat at the cash register. Leo wanted to help, but she also wanted to make sure her friends weren’t going to scare her cousin when they were supposed to be entertaining him.

  “Your fanny pack looks useful,” Brent blurted. “And I like your T-shirt.”

  JP’s brow had furrowed during the conversation, but it smoothed into a smile when he looked down at the complimented shirt, which sported a dragon on the front.

  “Have you seen DragonBlood yet?”

  “Keep up your guard, friend of dragons.” Brent quoted the movie with his arm crossed over his chest like the dragon queen, hopping excitedly on his toes. “I’m kind of a huge fan. I’ve seen it three times so far.”

  “I’ve read all the books,” Caroline announced, her face pink all over now.

  “Yeah, but you weren’t even going to see the movie until I dragged you,” Brent muttered. Caroline’s mouth twisted in annoyance.

  Marisol reentered the front of the bakery with a tray balanced on each arm, and Leo rushed to help her before she spilled bolillos all over the floor. “Are your friends okay?” Marisol whispered. “They look like they’ve never seen an out-of-towner before.”

  Leo nodded, emptying her tray into the clear bolillo bin and stacking it on top of Marisol’s. Soon Brent and Caroline would realize JP was just her dragon-loving older cousin and stop gawking.

  In the meantime, she took advantage of their interest, following Marisol back into the chaos of the kitchen. When she returned to shelve a tray of cinnamon rolls, JP and Caroline were talking excitedly about a Houston taco chain, and Brent was sulking, though he perked up at the sight of Leo’s warm treats.

  “I happen to think there are plenty of great local restaurants right here in Rose Hill,” Daddy pointed out, giving Leo a wink from the front counter.

  “Are there?” JP asked. “I’ve only really eaten stuff from the bakery.” He realized his mistake when Daddy dropped his jaw in mock outrage, and he scrambled to backtrack by saying that of course nothing in Austin or Houston could compare with Amor y Azúcar.

  “We have other good places too,” Brent said, worming his way between Caroline and JP. “The Flores’s place has the best enchiladas, and there are spicy noodles at the gas station,”

  “Pho,” Caroline corrected.

  “And Honeybees!” Brent added triumphantly.

  “Honeybees?” Leo asked. “Is that the new place? Is it a restaurant?”

  “Yeah, you haven’t seen the signs?” Caroline asked. “They’re advertising all along Main street. Opening Soon: Honeybees Café and Sweet Treats.”

  “Hmm . . .” Daddy leaned over the counter. “I hadn’t seen those, no. I wonder why the owner didn’t run that past the business association first.”

  “How come?” Leo asked.

  “Well, we already have a dessert bakery in town.” Daddy said. “Stores in town try to avoid competing with each other—it’s better for everyone that way.” His smile didn’t quite cancel out the worry lines between his eyebrows.

  “Is it bad to have more than one bakery?” Caroline asked. “Houston has lots of the same types of restaurants.”

  “But Rose Hill doesn’t have as many hungry people,” JP said. “So every person counts. And anyone who buys a cookie from Honeybees isn’t buying one from here.”

  “But who would want to buy a cookie from some new store instead of an Amor y Azúcar cookie?” Leo demanded.

  “Excellent point.” Daddy nodded. “I sure
wouldn’t want to go up against this beloved town institution.” He patted the old cash register. “Excuse me, ladies and gents.” He hopped off his stool and headed into the kitchen, pulling his phone out as he went.

  Leo bit her lip. Daddy whistled behind the blue doors, but Leo wasn’t fooled by the cheery tune. His eyes were still worried about the competition of another Rose Hill bakery. She would bet he was going to call Mamá.

  Leo looked at the half-bare shelves, the empty register. “I’d better get back to work,” she said.

  “Sorry for bringing bad news.” Caroline twirled her butterfly ring around her finger nervously.

  “I can stay and help,” JP offered. “I want to learn how to use the big mixer.”

  “Oh no.” Brent’s face fell. “We were going to take you to the library while Leo works.”

  Caroline tapped the backpack hanging low and full over her shoulders. “I brought books to return, so if you want to check anything out, you can use my card.”

  “And there’s a room just full of board games, plus a big graphic-novel section.” Brent bounced in excitement. “We can play Catan.”

  JP looked at Leo, who breathed a silent sigh of relief as she waved encouragingly. “You should go,” she said, reminding herself to bake something special for Caroline and Brent to thank them for such a perfect idea. “We’ll be fine. I’ll join y’all at the library just as soon as my mom gets back. The mixer will still be here tomorrow.” And it would be safer without her cousin messing around with it while she tried to work.

  “You can ride on the back of my bike,” Brent offered, his face as pink as Caroline’s.

  Caroline hung back as the boys left to unlock the bikes. “Leo, one thing,” she said, shrugging the straps of her backpack off and letting it thump onto the tiled floor. “I made something. For your mom, to thank her and Paloma for helping me with my magic lessons.” Caroline dug through the bag as she talked, stopping to stack a few thick library books on the floor with care. She pulled out a foil-wrapped bundle, peeling back the silver to reveal the tip of a green candle. “It’s for good luck in finances, buying and selling, that sort of thing,” Caroline explained. “Maybe it will turn out to be useful for this Honeybees problem.”