by Maya William
Melissa glares at the couple while holding the cell phone to her ear.
“You didn’t,” Rocker Boy calls out, shaking his head.
Melissa cocks her head to one side and raises her eyebrow in a silent warning.
They stare at her, determining if she did indeed make the call or if she’s bluffing.
“Vicente and Rodrigo, get your asses in here this instant!” Maria shouts from the other side of the hall.
The speed at which their backs straightens and how wide their eyes grow is priceless.
Now they’re in trouble!
“Tattletale!” the business guy sneers when passing Melissa.
“It was my ass or yours,” she explains.
The couple glares at her, and she sticks her tongue out at them.
They both gasp.
“Samantha, you, too. Samuel’s already waiting for you,” Maria says in a gentler tone.
The couple stares at me, their mouths falling open, eyeing me and then the hall where Maria’s voice came from.
With my head held up, I lead the way to the studio, where Maria greets us at the entrance.
“Perfect, Samantha, you already changed. Go and warm up with Samuel.” She indicates with a smile while moving to one side of the doorway to let me in. “The two of you. I can’t believe it!” I turn in time to catch Maria shaking her head at them. “I specifically told you, you were going to dance, and you show up ready to work the runway. Now, go and change; you’ve got exactly five minutes,” she warns them and points toward the bathroom located down the hallway.
“Why did we agree to help her if she’s going to treat us like five-year-olds?” Rocker Boy asks with his deep voice.
“’Cause you still behave like one,” Maria snaps back. “Now, stop bitching.”
Samuel chuckles, having heard the conversation. I find myself smiling, too.
“And we thought Maria was the nice one!” Business Guy shouts, his voice echoing through the hallway that leads to the bathroom.
Maria rolls her eyes and, instead of coming inside, decides to follow them.
She’s going to kill them.
“You can always trust Vicente and Rodrigo to bring out the worst in the Solis sisters.” Samuel steps closer and reaches for my hand. “However, you’ll help to balance things out and improve Maria’s mood.”
“I’m outnumbered,” I joke, chuckling at his exaggeration.
“Outnumbered? Probably.” He pulls me closer and wraps his arms around me. “However, the odds are in everybody’s favor since the outnumbered party is them and not you, beautiful.”
My cheeks heat up at his closeness. “What are you talking about? There are two of them and only one of me.”
“And you’re worth at least a hundred of them,” he whispers in my ear.
I pull away and study his face.
“I missed you,” he says. “I don’t have my beautiful partner to help me practice.”
His explanation and flirtatious manner make me laugh. “Well, Knightley danced with two girls today. Unfortunately, Anya didn’t want to share.”
He throws back his head with laughter. “Finally, something Anya and I can agree on. Because I don’t want to share either,” he says, bringing me closer to him again.
Well, if you put it like that, I might agree with Anya then.
“Holy shit!” Rocker Boy shouts from the entrance. He’s still wearing his outfit, minus his jacket and shoes. “I hope this is what your aunt referred to for warmup. Rodrigo will love it!”
Although I know it isn’t, I love it as well.
“Three and a half minutes, Vicente,” Samuel declares, eyes still on me.
“Oh, fuck me! You, too? Trust a freaking Solis to go after our asses.” He enters the studio and grabs what looks like a pair of high heels from the corner of the room.
“I’ve been taught by the best.” Samuel smiles at me. “Plus, it’s in my blood, man.”
“I thought you had our back!” Vicente grumbles and leaves the room. “Maria, your nephew’s not warming up with the ice queen! Well, technically he is, but they aren’t stretching, if you know what I mean!” he shouts at the top of his lungs.
The color rises in Samuel’s cheeks, especially when Rodrigo and Vicente’s laughter comes from the other end of the hall.
“That’s it!” Maria’s annoyed voice reaches the studio. “Samuel, you’ll dance with Vicente, and Rodrigo, you’ll dance with Samantha,” she declares. “Otherwise I won’t be able to get any of you teenagers to focus on paso doble.”
“We’re not teenagers!” Samuel, Vicente, and Rodrigo say at the same time, making me giggle.
“Well, Samantha behaves more mature than the three of you put together!” Maria snaps.
To my great disappointment, Maria splits us into two different studios, and Rodrigo kindly explains the origin of paso doble. It was originally a military march designed to be faster than the usual ones so that soldiers would march faster. That’s why it’s called the “double step.”
Rodrigo mentions that this dance uses free figures, making it easier than most.
The dance simulates a bullfight, where the male partner plays the part of the matador while the female plays el toro—the bull—or la capa—the cape. In a modern variation, the woman can be a flamenco dancer, which sounds more exciting and appealing to me.
He teaches me the basics, which also includes dancing in heels. Luckily, the shoes come with straps to hold them to my feet or, to be honest, there wouldn’t be a mirror intact with all the flying the shoes would be doing.
With my training being ballet only, I struggle to move naturally when he asks me to arch my back or stretch my arms behind me while curving them.
“I won’t do anything to you,” he jokes when he puts his hands on my waist and I tense. “I appreciate my life too much to piss off the ice queen.”
I huff, because he still doesn’t believe me, even after I explained countless times that I’m not Abigail or the ice queen, as he likes to refer to her.
“Excellent, you memorize the steps now. We still need to work on your lines. You look stiff as a board,” he states after I finish the choreography we worked on over the past hour. “You need to add passion to your moves.”
“I am!” I grunt, annoyed that it’s not showing.
“You’ll get there,” he encourages. “Let’s go through the choreography, then we’ll focus on putting feeling into your dance.”
One hour later, Maria stops by to check on us.
As I expected, she corrects the position of my arms and asks me to wear the long skirt Miranda loaned me.
When I put it on, I love the way its vibrant red contrasts with my black leotard, giving me a certain Spanish air.
I need a red rose in my hair to complete the effect.
Getting into the right attitude, I perform one of the moves Rodrigo taught me, enjoying the way the skirt flares with each turn, giving the dance an extra punch and raising my confidence.
“¡Aja Morena!¡Eso estuvo perfecto!” Rodrigo exclaims at my side “Don’t hold back; allow the feeling to come out!”
For a moment, I become a Spanish dancer, proud, tall and ready to tackle life’s challenges.
As if my arms are the horns of the bull, I pull them back with extra force and stop at the angle Rodrigo taught me. I quickly raise them with the same force, as if I’m the cape. I finish my lines with determination and sharpness, my back arching while my head whips, stopping together at the same time as the rest of my body.
“¡Muy bien!” Rodrigo cheers. “Time to turn this ice queen to a fire one, because this is about to get ¡caliente!”
I know this word! Things are going to get hot!
Rodrigo steps closer, and I don’t allow the Spanish dancer I channeled to be intimidated by him. Instead, I keep my head up high and my arrogant attitude on.
Oh My Big Guy, I’m Abigailing!
“I love the whole attitude change, but the guy still needs t
o lead!” Rodrigo warns, making me laugh and bring the whole Abigail attitude down a notch. “Perfecto,” he declares.
Maria applauds when we finish the choreography Rodrigo taught me.
“You’re learning this a lot faster than Samuel is,” she declares, signaling for us to follow her to her office. Inside, she points at the window that looks out on the other room where Samuel and Vicente dance.
I bite my lip, holding back laughter. Rocker Boy wears a long blue skirt and high heels while dancing the girl’s part. Although their dance shows the sharpness and the necessary force, they seem to be having a battle of wills.
“I’m the girl, not you!” Vicente declares. “You need to conquer me! Or do you want the shoes and the skirt?”
“I’m not doing that!” Samuel drops Vicente’s hand and walks backward.
Vicente places his hands on his hips. “Do I need to make a man out of you?”
His comment makes Samuel choke. Maria and Rodrigo laugh. Luckily, Vincente and Samuel can’t hear them.
Samuel brings his hands up to his chest, palms outward. “No need for that, I assure you.” He steps closer, puts one hand around Vicente’s waist, and takes his hand with the other.
Their discussion ends when the door opens and a woman steps into the room.
“Baby!” she exclaims, stopping at the entrance.
The studio mirror reflects the image of the newcomer. My stomach instantly boils when I recognize Natalie, the woman who likes to ignore Miranda’s diet restriction by giving her alcohol and food with a high sodium content and whom David clearly hates. Her face contorts for a moment, eyes focused on Vicente’s back. His slim figure in the long skirt makes him appear quite feminine.
“Baby,” she repeats, this time through clenched teeth. “Who’s the whore?”
Vicente turns on his heel, puts his hand on his waist, and gives her a once-over. One of his eyebrows rises when his gaze reaches her feet. He’s clearly not impressed by her.
“Whore? Well, it takes one to recognize one,” Vicente answers. “But, darling, I’m not a whore, but a beautiful queen. Unlike you.”
Rodrigo chuckles, especially when Vicente speaks in a deep tone, making his voice sound manlier than Samuel’s.
Her mouth opens and closes several times, as though she can’t find a retort or logical explanation for what she heard or saw.
“Natalie, what are you doing here?” Samuel asks, bringing her attention to him.
“I came to invite you to dinner,” she explains with fake excitement; however, she continues glaring at Vicente.
“Um, Natalie, we’re working.” Samuel steps closer to her. “Vicente is helping me with a paso doble part we need to add to the performance.”
Natalie’s expression changes dramatically, and she stomps her feet in a very paso doble way.
Oooohhh, so that’s how it’s done.
“No! Today you’re going to have dinner with me!” She stabs a finger at Samuel’s chest. “For the last month, you’ve ignored me…”
The heat that’s been building inside my stomach spreads to the rest of my body.
How dare she speak to Samuel in such a manner!
“Bitch, please.” Vicente puts his hand up, palm forward.
“I told you to wait in the reception area!” Melissa comes in panting, her face flushed. “You’re going to get me fired.”
“Like I give a damn about your job!” Natalie turns to face her head-on. “Do you realize who you’re talking to?” She points at herself, jutting out her jaw.
“Natalie, stop it!” Samuel gets between them.
“Samantha and Rodrigo, please return to your studio,” Maria orders us. “I better step in before this turns into a catfight.”
Rodrigo gets a hold of my hand and drags me out of the office. We quickly pass the other studio as Maria enters it and slams the door shut behind her.
When we return to the studio, after witnessing the commotion, I can’t focus. I’m still trying to make sense of what happened.
“We can continue on Thursday, my fire queen,” Rodrigo suggests when he notices the change in my mood. “I can work with Vicente and Samuel on the choreography for what he plans for the party.”
I nod. “Thanks for your help, Rodrigo. I appreciate what you’re doing.”
His head jerks back, my words taking him completely by surprise. His brows furrow. “You really aren’t Abigail.”
My mouth twitches, and I laugh. “Took you this long?”
“You two are very similar. Evidently, you know how to dance, unlike her. Plus, your attitude is different.” He gathers his backpack and helps me carry mine. “Take the skirt and practice at home. I’d recommend you look at some YouTube videos to get some additional ideas,” he adds while opening the studio door.
Outside, Vicente walks up to the door, mumbling under his breath. “Faggot? She should know better than to call me that,” I make out through his whispers. “Esa vieja está loca.” He eyes Rodrigo.
Ha! I know what loca means: crazy.
Rodrigo shakes his head and moves closer to his partner to comfort him. Maria steps out of her office, followed by Abigail.
When did my sister arrive and what did she do this time?
“Sorry for what my sister said,” I say, fearing that whatever good impression I made during the past few hours with Rodrigo will disappear because of her.
“What?” Vicente frowns. “It wasn’t her; it was that Natalie witch. Your sister arrived, like, ten minutes ago to take you home,” he explains. “The whiny princess got away with her tantrum.”
She got away with it? And, worse, Abigail’s the one taking me home! Big Guy, nice way to ruin my day.
“Well, guys, see you on Thursday then.” I walk over to Rodrigo and give him a hug, then another to Vicente. He tenses when I wrap my arms around him. “Thank you. I had tons of fun.”
When I pull back, Vicente eyes me as if my touch froze him in place.
My icy touch.
Maria chuckles at Rodrigo and Vicente’s reaction.
“Thanks, Maria. Should I come in tomorrow?” I ask, not sure if she still needs my help.
“You should take a couple of days off, since I’ve scheduled a whole day of practice for Saturday and Sunday.”
“Okay,” I sigh and eye my sister.
“Ready?” Abigail asks when I walk away from Maria.
“Yeah,” I reply shyly.
She raises her hand and opens it. The car keys dangle from her finger. “Your turn to drive.” She offers them to me. “Time to check if Archie still has his magical tutoring touch.”
He most certainly does!
Greedily, I take the keys in case she decides to take the offer off the table.
Time to show the ice queen I’m not a terrible driver.
“By the way, Abigail, what did you do to Rodrigo and Vicente?” I ask once we step out of the studio, remembering their reaction to me.
She throws her head back in laughter and leads the way to where she parked the car. “Nothing you wouldn’t do.”
She really doesn’t know me, at all.
Once we arrive home, we eat dinner while the family discusses additional items needed for Joy’s party. My interest spikes when they mention a dance-floor pool cover, which will be rented for the party, optimizing the garden space and providing a dance area.
Yeah! I won’t be dancing at Joy’s party. What if it breaks? Nu-uh, sorry. Not risking it, Big Guy.
After dinner, I ask to be excused and go to my room to work on my homework.
While pulling my notebooks out of the backpack, I find my long-forgotten cell phone. I take it out to charge it but stop when I notice seven missed calls: two from Samuel, the rest from Darcy.
Prepared to call her, I sit on the bed and unlock my phone.
My head jerks back when I see the excessive number of incoming text messages from Bennedick, Legolas, and Darcy. The blood goes to my feet as I read the first sentence Darcy sent, one
that nobody ever wants to hear.
“Houston, we have a problem.”
Now what, Big Guy?
Confessions and Holy Help
“Gorgeous, are you all right?” Bennedick asks after my silence extends for at least five minutes.
Their news was too big for my brain to process.
“Give her some time to recover,” Legolas suggests, grabbing Bennedick’s hand after it passes in front of my face, like, seven—eight?—times.
When Darcy told me yesterday, I thought she was overreacting. Honestly, I believed she meant twenty extra people. But now I know who didn’t overreact.
Yeah, Big Guy, that would be me!
“Are you sure about the number?” I ask, hoping with all my heart the number changes.
“At the moment, we know for certain those people know and plan on go–” Legolas’s cell phone interrupts him. He diverts his gaze to read the message and holds his breath for a few seconds. “Potter texted me, and the number’s even bigger now.”
Decrease, Big Guy, I meant decrease! How can this be possible?
“How the hell did that happen? It’s only lunchtime.” Bennedick steals Legolas’s cellphone. His mouth falls open as he reads the message, which tells me Legolas didn’t lie.
“We need to find out who the blabbermouth is and put an end to this,” Darcy says, determined.
“And how do you suppose we figure that out?” Legolas raises his eyebrows.
“There isn’t a lot of science behind it.” Darcy pulls out her cell phone and types. “Just a simple, small message to the right people.”
She sets her phone down. Almost instantly, it beeps with a text message.
As she checks it, Bennedick stands and walks over to her. His eyes narrow while he steals a glimpse at his sister’s phone.
“The snitch?” He shakes his head.
Darcy slaps his arm. “Just because she’s the editor of the school paper doesn’t mean she’s a snitch. Plus, don’t forget her amazing contacts in the geek society” She smirks. “She’ll work her magic, although Sammie and I are around ninety percent sure who Blabbermouth is.”
I nod. Portia!