Elena of Avalor. Ángela stared at her, entranced. The majority of Disney’s princesses were white-faced girls of northern European descent; even Merida, Ángie’s favourite, had a milky complexion. Ángie tended to gravitate towards the more modern princesses – Merida, Jasmine, Mulan, Tiana – not just because they were more badass than their swooning earlier counterparts, but because they were more diverse. Although she was too young to explicitly notice the ethnicity of her television heroines, the relatability of the modern princesses was a big draw factor and they were that much more relatable when they looked like her. Finding Disney princesses she shared a physical resemblance with always seemed harder for Ángela than it did for the blue-eyed, blonde-haired international students at her school.

Elena was different. Her crimson gown was ruffled and decorated with flowers, her cola-brown hair flowed beautifully over her shoulders and she had wide, dark eyes, just like Ángela. She was so awestruck that she didn’t even notice the change in her mother’s voice when the latter made her observations about Elena’s nationality. A Spanish Disney princess would surely be superior to all of the others. Ángie bounced up on tiptoe in an attempt to stare at the BlueRay over her mother’s arm, greedily absorbing the cover art. Elena was swinging up to the camera on what appeared to be the rope of a great ship. In the background, multicoloured flying jaguars grinned from the clear blue sky.

“Si!” She bounced on her heels, taking hold of the hem of her mother’s shirt. “I want to watch Elena with you! As soon as we get home!”

A trip to the Disney store, a Spanish princess, and now a movie with her mother. Could anyone say best day ever?

Ángela bounced impatiently while the queued. She insisted on holding the BlueRay and studied the front and back avidly, only reluctantly passing it over when the man behind the till asked to scan it. She whipped it back as soon as it was done and clutched it tightly all the way back to the car, leaving Croe to carry the bag containing the Merida merchandise. From Madrid to home wasn’t long, but it felt like it was taking forever. Ánge speculated aloud to her mother about what kind of princess Elena was, pulling all the favourite bits from the other princesses. Merida’s way with weaponry. Elsa’s magic. Jasmine’s attitude. Mulan’s intelligence.

The car had barely parked by the time Ángela flung the door open, charging up the gravel drive towards the house hugging the BlueRay to her chest. As she ran past the fountain, she habitually held her hand out to catch the spray. Her fingers were still damp as she charged up the front steps and hammered on the door with the knocker. Alvarez, the family butler, pulled the door open just as Croe stepped up to it.

“Alvarez, look!” Ángie waved the box at him as she jumped past. She stood up on tiptoe and held still for a second to give him a better look. “Elena is a Spanish princess!”

“How lovely, señorita.” Alvarez replied professionally, holding out his hand to take Croe’s bags.

“We’re going to watch Elena right now.” Ángela told him, reaching out with her free hand to slip it into her mother’s.