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This story is rated PG-13.
There is some language or violence that may not be appropriate for people under thirteen years of age.


Te Amo by CrystalNeonSummerSnow

Chapter 1: Pyrrhic Victory

" Hmm, this scene is worth a replay." my brother caricatured with the curl in his lips. He just had to watch that scene again.


Yeah, I won TDWT and the tape of my big finale fell into my ochre David King luggage by "accident". I swear, I'll get back at Chris for that one day. As usual, Damien got his scum-covered hands on it and found it a new truncheon against me. I bet you think the scene was when Zeke stole my money and almost died with it, but I'm lucky that my parents struck it big time while I was gone. I don't know how, but my mother's beauty salon/spa business went international and my father became an actor for Hollywood. So while I was packing my bags for us to move, Damien found the tape and decided to vex me one last time Toronto. No, that wasn't the visceral scene that sent chills down my spine.


Alejandro made me confess my love for him and he was mutual with our hearts. And just when I shared my first kiss with him, I stabbed him in the back like I did the rest. Big shock, I know. Yet, watching that scene over and over, the way he addressed me as mi amor, the way his lips dove into mine, and the way my backstab damaged him more than I thought, made my heart drop into my pettite hips. The intriguing parallel of when I lost my hair in my debut and he lost his hair in his debut didn't help either; that just made my heart sink lower. I actually thought that he was going to use me and I instead was the blackguard in the end.


Affronted, I chased him across my room and, of course, my mom walked in and thought he was the victim.


" Heather!"


" Yeah, yeah, I know, in the halls."


Damien smirked at the sounds of my cone heeled stripper shoes down the hovel-like halls. My mother turned the flickering candelebra lights off and crossed her arms.


" Heather, everyday all I hear is you blaming your little brother for your attitude and I am sick of it. When we move to California, what I'd like for you to do is leave these acts behind."


" Mom, you can't possibly believe that he's innocent all the time. I mean, he was using a tape from the show to torture me."


She shook her head; it was kind of wierd the way her finger-waved locks bounced around. She turned the lights back on and continues to scorn me for nothing.


" Look around, Heather. We can't keep living this life forever."


" Then why don't you use the money to fix up this compost?"


" Because we have to let your father keep his dream of being an actor."


I rolled my eyes. Move to America? The place of hypersexuality and speedballs? Yeah, I'd rather lose my hair again than move their. But I could tell by the slits in Mom's eyes, her mind was set. She just walked back into her bedroom while I looked around. I mean, if we were gonna leave Toronto, this house had to at least recive a makeover. Honestly, who would live in a place that looks like a fire took place? Not even hobos.



Damien ran out of my room snickering as usual. When they were all lulled into peace, I fell into my futon bed and finally broke down. I made a mistake, a Pyrrhic victory, and I couldn't fix it. Alejandro was officially out of my life, or so I thought....


Feeling insomniatic, I opened my Windows 7 Inspiron to check my e-mail. As usual, this guy named RiHispanic and I got into a chat room.

RiHispanic: You feelin' OK?

Me: Not really. I'm moving to Hollywood.

RiHispanic: The place of hypersexuality and speedballs?

Me: That's exactly what I thought!

RiHispanic: Two bright minds think alike, I guess. G'night.

Me: Goodnight.


RiHispanic? A mixture of "Rihanna" and "Hispanic". Sometimes, that name makes me laugh too. We actually have a lot more in common than you think -- our hard pasts, our disgust for anything poor or gothic, our love for Rihanna, ect. He actually seemed like the only person in my life that's sane. Still, RiHispanic seemed familiar to me, I just couldn't put my finger on it.


My first day of school in Hollywood was... startingly great. I'm guessing that they thought I was a stripper so, I kinda blended in. When we came to Latin class, our teacher turned around and squeeled,


" Oh good, we have another new student!"


I turned around and saw the other new student. Just guess who he was.

Chapter 2: Mrs. Jones's Solution

The class was antagonizing in a sort of pleasent way. It's hard for you to work when you have your almost ex-boyfriend surveying you with both smoking hot cinders of hatred and smoking hot cinders of love in the gems of his eyes, those brilliant, polished gems. His hair somehow grew back elongate and elogant, but the burns remained. As a single bullet of sudor grazed down my Asian cheeks when I was excused to head to the nurse, his gaze still haunted me.


It wasn't normal for me to be obsessed with a boy's adulation for me, 'cause, before, my heart was bulletproof, but seeing Alejandro out of the blue all of a sudden just made my heart seem like NASCAR. I mean, he was so stinkin' cute! As my footsteps grew apathetic and flimsy, I suddenly bumped into Jessica, the ditzy daughter of the school principal and winner of all girl sports; a total perfectionist.


" Hey! Watch where you're go-- Oh, sorry Heather. I thought you were someone else."


" No problem." I muttered.


She went back to pampering herself with Covergirl make-up. Honestly, why put paint on a car that's already rusted to the core? She may act like she's nice to me, but I could already tell she was a life-ruiner; a Playboy bunny with devil horns, and not to mention a worse and blonde version of me. My pace soon improved, so I just headed to my locker; I wasn't going to just walk to Mrs. Chavin and say, " Hey. Guess what? I'm feeling well, so I'm not in need of your service,". It'd be stupid and embarrassing. Pulling out my iPod, I just played my shuffled Lady GaGa playlist.


When I looked down at my feet, a dusty camp book was under my heels.


Hmm, must be Alejandro's... Nothing a few juicy secrets won't fix, I thought with my signature sinful smirk. Speed-reading through the pages only proved one thing -- boring didn't describe it; at least, not till I reached the last page.


" Alas, today my regin has collapsed. While I am writing this, I am in the hospital being treated for my burns and Izzy mentioned something about a potion she made that could make my hair grow back. Crazy as it sounded, I'd rather take that risk than suffer. Heather is such a heartless demon; they all are. Durring our last song, she put emphasis in the name 'Hera'. She's wicked, evil, and the beastiest tart you've ever met.


" Yet, somehow, I'm drawn to her at the same time. I don't know if it's because of the scent of her Heiress perfume or the way she loosens the scrunchie in her hair to wash those volumptuous locks, but I've started to fall for her. Even if she'll never be mine, at least I have a little something to remember her by."


A picture of me with a Sharpie heart? Aww, how incredibly... obsessive! I'd never fall for that creep! What was I thinking? I've been obsessed with him, too, so why resist! As I continued on, the feel of leather kicking at my leg came across.


" The book says do not read." he growled in his low baritone. It sent a huge snowstorm down my back the way his words tickled my earlobes. He grabbed my shoulder blades to turn me around and a smirk came across his face. Oh crap, I was blushing. He let out a crooked laugh and pushed me against the walls. I closed my eyes when he started to towel away the chips of cleadon paint in my hair.


" My, my, my, is that a blush I see across your face? And, what is that? It sounds like your heart is racing."


" Shut up and get your hands off me! Why would you even talk to me, anyway? Here, take your stupid book back. It's not like it was interesting."


I could still hear a silent scoff while I walked away. This was gonna be a long school year.....


Once the school bell ringed to end a long week, Ms. Domnick shut the door in front of me.


" Heather, I'm a little concerned about you; you've been very quiet lately. Is everything OK?"


" Well, I-Uhh..."


I was surprised about my Latin teacher; Ms. Domnick is actually very innocent with her watercolored dress and Selena-make up. We looked out the windows completely silent for a moment, until she patted my shoulders.


" You can tell me Heather, and if not, you should at least see the school guidence counsler Mrs. Jones; she'll help you."


I just nodded when she handed the flyer. A counsler? What else was new? When I was young, my parents always sent me to a counsler to turn me into a nicer person (just like shock therapy). I had a feeling that this one would be as null and mundane as the rest. While walking down the hallway, I ran back into Jessica. She simply smiled with rossa corsa lipstick tinted on her lips.


That ditzy loser, I persumed with impressed annoyance, How can she be so good at pretending?


When I knocked on the door, a contralto voice softly modulated through the door crack,


" Come in, sweetie."


When I walked in, the room was actually.... flamboyant. The lady tapped her ballpoint pen on the polished wood desk. Mrs. Jones wasn't the most alluring woman, but she had a sweet smile; her locks were ash blonde and in a bun like most female consulers would. She grabbed a file from her cabinets and scrolled through student bios. She turned to me and asked,


" Heather Malone, right? One of the new students? Okay, I have to make a call outside, but I'll be right back, 'kay?"


She didn't hear me reply, but I just let out a soft-spoken "Kay". When she left, I then started to look around. Sure, she had the therapy couch like most consulers would have, but there was a little more color in the room. The walls were painted cerise pink and Van Gogh's painting were hanging there, too. She also had a lot of potted plants from dasies to sunflowers; it looked like Easter threw up in there. When her footsteps echoed, I quickly sat back in my seat. She showed up with the phone in her hand and a more wrinkled frown instead of a smie.


" Okay, even though it's the first week, I've noticed your Latin grade has been quite poor lately. Is there a problem in there?"


I couldn't say a word. That'd be the last thing I needed: some reprobate consuler wanting me to talk about the problem when the problem's wearing a Stauer watch and has the swagger of a Bboy dancer. All I did was shrug; I could tell she didn't believe me.


" Even if you won't tell, I've got a solution to bring your grade up -- extra credit."


" What do I have to do? Write a report in Latin?"


She laughed and shook her head. I'm surprised my retort didn't aggravate her; she must be use to that. She then handed me a sign-up sheet.


" Every year, Ms. Domnick hosts the traditional competition called Tango Wars and in that game, you and your partner have to tango to a traditional tango or at least a reggae song and beat the opposing team. If you participate, you get extra credit, but if you win, you'll get your grade bumped up a letter."


Dancing? I never really dance a lot, but I am good a Burlesque and tango; plus, my grade was riding on this, so I just put my cursive signature in there. She then walked toward the door while I was still gazing at the piece of paper. He was still on my mind....


I didn't know why, but I still couldn't get that low-life to disappear. Call me a freak, but I felt like he was a part of me. I was snapped back when Mrs. Jones said,


" Heather, you can leave now."


" Oh, sorry."

Chapter 3: Partners

Thoughts clouded my head once the dance studio came around the corner. Who was gonna be my partner?


I expected him to be a guy with slender legs and has the Renaissance touch. Hopefully, that guy would get that acursed Latino loser out of my head for one day. As I stepped out of my Alice blue 1950 Mercury, I also had a feeling that today would surely be memorable. The dancefloor was lit with the personification of possible fame ahead. Ms. Domnick arrived with another classic Latin dress and subtle make up. She flashed her pearly whites.


" Heather! I'm so glad you signed up! Counting you, only two people signed up."


" Two? Who's the other?"


I shouldn't have asked that. The metal doors slammed shut once my new partner came in. The clinking of leather grew loud; I heard a few strong breaths and then my body went numb. I didn't dare look into his sharp gaze, his body marked with the essence of hate; it would've just made me weaker; not like I wasn't anyway. My partner was behind me, and he would never give up on revenge, I could tell. Ms. Domnick looked at me in a bearing way.


" Heather, are you alright?" she canvassed in her squeaky voice.


I just warily shook my head; he must've laughed to see me suffer. Ms. Domnick gave us a bunch of reggae and tango CDs and reinformed us to choose one song to tango to. She showed us the basics steps and then left us alone. A small silence filled the air until Alejandro started reaching into his pockets. My eyes striked shut; my heart was once again racing like NASCAR. What was in his pockets? A knife? A lighter? Anything with the stench of revenge hovering above it?


Streams of sweat strolled down my apple-cheeks; my fist clenched so hard, my knuckles were ivory white as his laughs started to ring in my head. He put his hand on my shivering shoulder and said,


" I'm not gonna bite. Get a hold of yourself, amiga."


" Oh, since when did you get all buddy-buddy with me?"


" Never mind that, just listen. My father taught me the ways of Mexican tango while mother taught me chivalry and I taught myself manipulation and strategy. If we are going to win this competition, you have to follow my lead, or the judges will have to see you tango with yourself."


My thick lips stretched out a small frown, but he had a point. If he could be a greater adversity than me by using emotions and artifical lust for women, then I had to listen to him for once. He then pulled out what he was lookin' for -- his iPod. I let out a sigh of relief. He shuffled through his songs and inserted one bud in my ear. Soon, Te Amo by Rihanna started playing; for once, a reggae song with taste. He then took my hand as the sequins from my malaguena dress shimered under the lights.


His dancing was incredible; a true artwork of culture. His hands felt leathery against my creamy skin. As our eyes met, his head started lingering towards mine; I was too frozen with awe to pull back. His lips grazed across my forehead and I was completely frozen. All I did was sing the last part of the song to his enchantment.


" Te Amo, Te Amo

Don't it mean I love you...?"


His hair was soon breezing around my face in an erotic way; it felt like he would never let go. My fingers were tapping on his broad chest covered with his almost undone collar shirt. With my head on his shoulder, he slowly let go and a blush appeared on his face that time. As a crooked smile came across his face, has father came into the parking lot.


" Adios, bad girl." he kindly teased.


I smiled and waved my hand. Yet soon, a girl appeared from the velvet curtains. Oh great, it was Jessica. Only, this time, her face was anything but happy and optimistic.


" Wow, you're looking down today. Did the blouses at the Khaki Barn sell out?" I crispily smirked. It felt good to say that.


" Shut up! I know what you're doing: you think that you can just have Alejandro all to yourself like your some enchanting pixie, but I've known him longer than you have, and I also know about you. He was my boyfriend and he was the greatest thing ever; together, we were unstoppable, till he went to TDWT. I still had the school falling for my trick, thinking that I am soo sweet, when really, I'm more evil than both of you. And I know a dark secret of yours....


" When you were a little kid, your parents loved your little troll brother Damien more than you and he celebrated by torturing you. When you were in 5th grade, you were the June Phigg of the school and that made the pain evern more unbearable, so you got serious plastic surgery on your stomach, started buying clothes from places like Baby Phat, Seven Jeans, and Victoria's Secret, and then became a queen bee, sorta like myself, only you're totally pathetic. And while you were gone in TDA, your parents' jobs got horrible and your place looked like a ghetto welfare land and you decided to move here because their jobs got better durring the 3rd season.


" Now, you think that you can just waltz into America and think you're just as powerful as you were in Toronto, well lemme tell you this you B-cupped floozy, if you get your hands on him again, if you even think about him, then let's just say there won't be a word called 'secret' for you anymore."


Yikes, I thought, she could be Sierra's sister!


When I came home, Mom was alphabetizing her nail polish for her store (Tea rose? I didn't even know that was a color!). She took a small respite for a moment to ask about how my first day of practice was and I told her about Alejandro and all that, but not about Jessica...


I'd probably tell you guys that I told you so about her, but there's no need to. I just have this gift that can help me see who's real and who's Heidi Montag fake. As I got on my laptop again, RiHispanic and I started talking again.


RiHispanic: Hey, Heather.

Me: Hi.

RiHispanic: Are u OK?

Me: No, some blonde temptress named Jessica is threatening to spread rumors about me unless I stay away from Alejandro.

RiHispanic: What?! Why, I oughta get my hands on that witch. We're not dating anymore, so why should she boss you around like that?

Me: Wait, you know her? And if you do, why are you so offended by what she did? Does that mean--?

RiHispanic: It doesn't mean anything; I just hate her.

Me: Alejandro? Is that you?

RiHispanic: .... I'll talk to you about it at school 2morrow. Bye.

Me: (no response)

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