The Book of Life Movie Novelization Page 2

  Carlos agreed. “But it’s more like a warm feeling you get when loved ones are with you.” He motioned toward all the other people in the cemetery celebrating their loved ones. “All of these families have lost someone. But, as long as we remember them, we can feel their presence with us for one night each year.”

  As he spoke, all through the cemetery faint images of skeletal family members appeared, happily visiting the living. Manolo and his family couldn’t see them, but they were there.

  “Carmen will always watch over you,” his father said.

  Manolo remembered a time when he was with his mother in a lush flower garden. She was sitting in the sunlight, humming a lullaby. “She always smelled like flowers,” Manolo said. “I remember her singing . . .”

  “She was a good woman, that one,” his great-grandmother said.

  “I miss her so much.” Manolo lowered his eyes and fought back a tear.

  “Just be still, and you can feel it,” Carlos assured him. “Your mother is here, along with all our ancestors. As long as we remember them, they are with us. The moment we forget them, they are truly gone.”

  Manolo closed his eyes. Images of Carmen and the ancestors swirled around him. “I can feel them,” he said, and Carlos smiled.

  An old woman approached the family at the gravesite. It was La Muerte, still in her disguise. “Kind people, may I please have a bit of your bread? I am so hungry.”

  Without even thinking, Manolo handed her the whole loaf. “I’m sure Mama would want you to have it. Right, Papa?”

  Carlos’s mustache turned up into a grin and he nodded. La Muerte smiled back.

  “Thank you, my dear. In return, you have my blessing: May your heart be always pure and full of courage,” she said.

  “What do we say, Manolo?” Carlos asked his son.

  Manolo didn’t need the reminder. “Thank you, señora. Thank you.”

  Joaquin, wearing his fake mustache, watched the old woman walk away from Manolo and Carlos. “Ah, Manolo. Always giving away stuff for free. Right, Dad?” He turned and saluted the lavish altar set before the large, ornate mausoleum of his father. Captain Mondragon was a decorated war hero.

  *****

  Back in the museum, Mary Beth filled in a detail for the story. “Joaquin’s father, Captain Mondragon, had passed away fighting the fearsome bandit known as Chakal.”

  *****

  In the cemetery Joaquin heard a noise inside the mausoleum. He whipped out his wooden sword, leaping forward. His mustache was blown away by a gust of wind. Suddenly, an old man stepped forward into the light. Joaquin jumped back.

  “Who’s in there?” he called.

  “Young sir, may I please have some of your bread? I’m so hungry,” the man asked, frail hand outstretched.

  But Joaquin wouldn’t give away his father’s offerings that easily. The old man would have to earn it. “This bread is for my father. And it’s delicious!”

  The old man, Xibalba in disguise, held out a golden medal toward Joaquin. “Perhaps you would consider a trade?”

  Joaquin scoffed at the idea “An old medal? Please.” He took a bite from the bread.

  “Oh, this is no ordinary medal, my boy,” Xibalba said. “As long as you wear it, you cannot be hurt, and it will give you immeasurable courage.” When he passed it to Joaquin, the medal began to glow.

  “Really? Deal!” Joaquin handed over the bread.

  “But keep it hidden,” Xibalba warned. “There is a bandit king who would stop at nothing to get it back.” A sinister light shone in his eyes.

  Joaquin looked at his father’s grave. “Bandit king? You mean Chakal?” He turned back to the old man, but he was gone. “Where did he go?”

  *****

  Back in their true forms, Xibalba and La Muerte met in the church bell tower above the cemetery. La Muerte was fixing a flower in her hair.

  Xibalba did not tell her he’d given Joaquin the medal. He said, “So then, if my boy marries the girl, I will finally rule the Land of the Remembered.”

  “And if my boy marries the girl, you will—” She reached out and touched Xibalba’s beard.

  At first he enjoyed the attention, but then her hand grew tight and she yanked on his beard. “You will stop interfering with the affairs of mankind,” she demanded.

  “What?” He was shocked. “I can’t do that! Come on, it’s the only fun I ever get.”

  She shrugged. “Then the bet is off.”

  Xibalba knew there was no arguing. He gave in. “Very well, my dear. By the ancient rules, the wager is set.”

  At the moment they shook hands, a great crash of thunder rattled the cemetery.

  *****

  In the museum Mary Beth placed the wood figure of Maria between Manolo and Joaquin and said, “And so the greatest wager in history began. Manolo versus Joaquin for the hand of Maria.”

  The children stared at Mary Beth with wonder.

  The goth kid could barely believe the story. “Wait, so these ancient gods picked three little kids to, like . . .”

  “. . . represent the whole world?” Sanjay finished.

  “Yeah, pretty crazy, right?” Mary Beth said.

  The goth kid wanted more. “Yeah, keep going, lady!”

  With a small nod, Mary Beth continued from where she left off.

  *****

  Manolo, Maria, and Joaquin were running through town, enjoying the day. Suddenly, Maria heard a pig squeal. She stopped and spotted the most adorable little fellow locked behind the walls of a large corral. He looked at her with big pig eyes.

  “You’re so cute!” she exclaimed.

  A knife-sharpening sound made her turn. She immediately noticed the butcher shop sign. Her eyes darted from the pig to the sign and back to the pig again.

  “Oh no, not on my watch.” Maria pulled out a wooden sword and announced, “We have to free the animals!”

  “Huh?” Manolo and Joaquin said at the same time.

  She gave them her best troublemaker grin. “Come on you guys, let’s do this!”

  “Hold on, Maria! Don’t!” Joaquin wasn’t sure.

  But Manolo was ready. “Yeah!”

  Maria lowered the sword on the corral lock, and with a crack the door swung open.

  In the center of town General Posada was presiding over a military recruitment program. His trained soldiers were there to help. The townspeople gathered around in the public square to hear General Posada’s speech. Carlos was watching the event along with Father Domingo and several nuns.

  “People of San Angel, please, I beg you!” the general said. “After the revolution, we need more volunteers to join this mighty brigade.”

  The soldiers standing there were weak and pathetic. Their wood faces were full of tiny holes, as if termites had had a feast. One wheezed violently and sawdust poured out of him just before his arm fell off.

  A nearby orphan grabbed the arm and hurried away. “Woo-hoo!”

  The general’s face fell at the sight of his raggedy troop, but he straightened his sombrero and finished his speech. “A heroic brigade to protect us from Chakal.” He unfurled a wanted poster with a picture of Chakal’s menacing face.

  The townspeople shouted out in fright. No one volunteered to join General Posada’s troop.

  Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to shake.

  Ignacio, the boy who had the churro cart, exclaimed, “Oh no, Chakal is here!”

  But it wasn’t their fearsome enemy. Instead it was a stampede of crazy animals, bursting through the square like the running of the bulls in Pamplona!

  “FREEEEEDOOOM!” Maria led the animals’ escape, riding the back of a pig like a horse.

  Manolo, holding the pig’s tail, was dragged behind, while Joaquin ran alongside, trying to keep up.

  Maria waved her small sword and cheered.

  The crowd panicked, and the general’s soldiers instantly held up their hands in surrender.

  “Maria! What have you done now?!” her fath
er bellowed.

  “Freedom is coming through!” Maria replied.

  “Stop!” General Posada ordered.

  Just then, Manolo lost his grip on the little tail. As he tumbled away, Joaquin tripped over him and they both crashed into the general, knocking him to the ground. The two boys kept flying through the air until they hit a fruit stand. Fruit rolled everywhere, and in the chaos, Manolo’s guitar was trampled.

  “Oh no! It’s the crazy warthog!” an old man shouted.

  Joaquin sat up and saw the warthog about to charge into General Posada. He leaped up, shouting, “Look out, General!” In a brave move, Joaquin knocked the general out of the way just in time. Joaquin was now in the warthog’s path. The warthog slammed into him, sending Joaquin skidding on the ground for several feet.

  To his surprise, he got up without a bruise or scratch. Joaquin noticed the glow of the old man’s medal hidden under his vest and smiled. It worked.

  One of the nuns, Sister Ana, was now in the warthog’s path. “Oh dear!” she shouted.

  Joaquin called to Manolo, “No retreat?”

  Manolo replied in turn, as they had done so many times before, “No surrender!” He grabbed a woman’s red shawl and placed himself between the nun and the warthog. “Toro, toro.” With a bullfighter’s skill, Manolo swiftly deflected the hog.

  The townspeople began to cheer with shouts of “Olé!”

  Carlos watched his son at work. “He has the gift,” he said proudly to an old man standing nearby. The old man nodded as the fight between Manolo and the hog continued.

  “Olé!” the crowd shouted again.

  Carlos couldn’t stop grinning. “Great form, mijo.”

  Manolo leaped off a soldier’s shoulders, using the shawl to parachute in front of the doorway of a shop. He shook the red shawl at the angry warthog, calling, “Hyah.”

  The warthog charged at Manolo. Manolo spun the shawl and teased the hog until finally, the warthog crashed into the shop.

  “Olé!” shouted the townsfolk when they saw the warthog was stuck.

  “That’s my son!” Carlos said.

  The old man smiled as the town hooted and hollered for Manolo. The rest of the animals ran away and escaped.

  Sister Ana said, “Thank you, Manolo,” while the nuns sang out, “Gracias!”

  General Posada had been knocked unconscious when he fell. He opened his eyes slowly. “Oh my,” he said. “What did I miss?”

  Joaquin helped him up. “You okay, sir?”

  General Posada put his arm around Joaquin. “You have saved my life.”

  Manolo came rushing up, holding the baby pig Maria had seen earlier. “And I—”

  “Shhhhh. Quiet, boy. I’m talking.” General Posada cut him off.

  “But I—” Clearly the general hadn’t seen Manolo’s bullfight or how he had saved Sister Ana.

  “Quiet,” the general ordered.

  Manolo looked down sadly. The town square was a mess. Small fires burned. Barrels and carts were all knocked over. A pig was playing tug-of-war with a soldier over General Posada’s sombrero, which was also on fire.

  The general surveyed the devastation. “Whaaa—? That girl is in so much trouble.”

  Maria peeked around the corner of a building. “Uh-oh.”

  “MAAAAAARIAAAAAAAAAA ! ! !”

  Riding her pig, wooden sword dragging on the ground, she approached. “I’m sorry Papa, it’s just that I—” She stopped as she noticed something broken on the ground. “Manolo’s guitar!” Maria gave an apologetic look to Manolo.

  “Maria!” Her father’s face was red with anger. “This rebellious nonsense ends now! You are going to become a proper lady.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I said so.” That was that. “I’m sending you to Spain. The sisters at the Convent of the Perpetual Flame of Purity will straighten you out.”

  Manolo and Joaquin both exclaimed, “What?!”

  “But Papa—” Maria began to argue.

  “No, it is decided.” General Posada frowned at her. “Now go home!”

  Maria began crying and ran off with Manolo’s guitar still in her hand.

  General Posada turned to Joaquin and pointed to the statue of Joaquin’s father, Captain Mondragon. “Joaquin, you are so much like your father. This town could use a new hero.” He put his arm on Joaquin’s shoulder. “Come, you are like the son I never had! My boy, your father was like a brother to me.”

  As they walked away, the baby pig jumped out of Manolo’s arms and promptly peed on his foot. The townswoman took back her shawl.

  Manolo tried to follow Maria, but his father stepped in front of him.

  “Epa! Where do you think you’re going?” Carlos asked.

  “He can’t send Maria away!” Manolo said.

  “Well, fathers do what’s best for their children. Come along.”

  Manolo took one last long look over his shoulder, but Maria was gone. He sighed and followed his father away from the square.

  On the outskirts of town Carlos and Manolo stood on a high hill overlooking San Angel. The baby pig stayed close to Manolo’s side.

  Looking out at the town’s bullfighting ring, Carlos said, “Mijo, I saw how you fought that beast. You made our ancestors proud.”

  Manolo glanced at his father. “You think Maria was impressed?”

  Carlos grinned. “Maria and every girl in town!” Manolo smiled and Carlos went on. “People said I was the greatest bullfighter in our family’s history. But, it is you, my son, who will be the greatest Sanchez ever! They will write songs about you!”

  “And I will sing them!” Manolo said enthusiastically.

  “Wait, what?” Carlos asked, confused.

  “I will sing them?” Manolo echoed with less certainty.

  “Son, music is not work fit for a Sanchez bullfighter.”

  “But I want to be a musician,” Manolo protested.

  “No,” Carlos said. “You must focus. Your training begins at once. Your Grandpa Luis taught me when I was about your age.”

  “Wait, isn’t that when that bull put you in a coma?”

  “Ah, memories!” Carlos nodded. “My only son fighting angry, thousand-pound beasts! The family tradition continues.”

  “Yay,” Manolo moaned as he and the baby pig set out toward home.

  *****

  Mary Beth told the students, “And so the day came when Maria would leave to study abroad. The three amigos would be no more.”

  *****

  The train station was crowded with people who came to wish Maria farewell. A group of nuns sang, “Adiós, Maria.”

  “Adiós, mijita,” General Posada said as Maria embraced him. “Write soon.” Beyond his daughter, the general noticed Manolo and Joaquin standing sadly to the side of the others. He excused himself, barely able to hold in the emotion. “I’m going to go over there.”

  Maria hurried to her friends. “I’m going to miss you guys,” she told the boys.

  “We’ll be here waiting,” Joaquin said.

  “For as long as it takes,” Manolo added.

  Maria hugged Joaquin, then turned to Manolo.

  “Don’t ever stop playing, okay?” She held him for a long embrace.

  Stepping back, she pointed a finger at Joaquin’s chest. “And you. Don’t you ever stop fighting for what’s right.”

  Joaquin agreed.

  Manolo handed Maria a box with holes punched in the top. “I got you a present. You should probably open it now.”

  Joaquin was stunned. “Wait a second, were we supposed to bring gifts?!” He hadn’t brought anything.

  Maria gave Joaquin a small smile, then opened Manolo’s box. Inside was the adorable baby pig she’d rescued, all curled up and snoring softly.

  “I named him Chuy. He’ll look after you,” Manolo said.

  Maria tenderly lifted the little pig out of the box and snuggled with it. “Oh, I remember you.”

  “I figured you needed a litt
le part of town to go with you,” Manolo told her.

  Maria was touched. “Thank you.”

  “Seriously, no one told me about bringing gifts,” Joaquin groaned.

  Maria turned to him and asked, “Can you hold Chuy for me?” She then picked up a box of her own and handed it to Manolo. “This is to make up for breaking your guitar.”

  In the distance a train whistle blew and the conductor shouted, “All aboard!”

  The three friends’ eyes all went wide. She was really leaving. Maria took Chuy and said, “I gotta go.” She couldn’t look at the boys or she’d start to cry. “Don’t forget me.” And with that, Maria hurried toward the train. The wind blew off her bonnet, which landed on the station platform.

  “Maria! Your bonnet!” Joaquin gave chase.

  Manolo knelt to the ground and opened the box. Inside was his guitar, completely repaired. On the side was engraved, ALWAYS PLAY FROM THE HEART. He couldn’t believe it. He held the guitar close and looked out to the slowly moving train.

  Maria sat sadly in her compartment, with Chuy asleep on her lap, when she heard Manolo’s voice.

  “Maria!”

  She looked out the window. Manolo and Joaquin were running next to the train.

  “When you come back, I will sing for you!” Manolo called out.

  Joaquin ran faster, passing Manolo. He was holding up Maria’s lost bonnet. “And I will fight for you!”

  The train picked up speed, leaving them behind.

  Maria leaned back and smiled to herself. Chuy snorted, then went back to sleep.

  *****

  “It would be years before they would ever see Maria again,” Mary Beth said. The children were quiet as she revealed to them what happened over the next ten years as the boys waited for Maria’s return: Manolo unwillingly practiced bullfighting with his father every day—he wanted to play beautiful music, not face bulls in the ring. Meanwhile Joaquin trained to be a soldier with General Posada.

  “One, two, three! One, two, three!” General Posada made Joaquin march away from a marbles game with Manolo.

  Carlos kept Manolo so busy, he had to sneak away to play his guitar.

  Joaquin marched past Manolo’s hiding spot. “Hey, Manny!”

  “March!” The general prodded Joaquin forward.