I'm so proud of myself; I only needed a dictionary for one of those Spanish words—ceiling because we barely went over that one! (Read and you'll know what I'm rambling about). Enjoy (:

The CDs, Oliver, Mya, Jason Lee Parker, the mysterious red-headed punkette, the kiss, my amnesia—I had to toss them all to the back of my mind for the finals coming up. Okay, so I still had to deal with my amnesia but I tried my best not to let it affect my every single step. I looked over my exams schedule in my planner. All the subjects hadn't needed much previous knowledge, so I was somewhat at the same level as everybody else. Pre-calculus and Spanish on the other hand required every single lesson I had ever received in each subject—which I could not remember a single one. And that's where the amnesia thing came back to haunt me.

"¿Liliana, que es la fecha de hoy?"

My head snapped back up at the Spanish alteration of my name, but I had no idea what the words following meant. Or maybe I did but she spoke so quickly, who could follow her? Then again maybe I could, if I remembered how to. I sighed and shrugged.

"She's asking what date it is," Oliver whispered beside me.

Without looking at him I smiled to show my thanks. "Hoy es el 13 de diciembre, 2009."

"¡Muybien!" Sra. Carter glowed and wrote it on the top corner of the board.

I frowned; I knew I didn't know how to say December, even less 2009. But as I stared at the board I knew it was el pizarrón.

The clock reloj.

The desk mesa.

The books libros. And everything else under the ceiling—which was el techo by the way.

I wanted to stand and shout "My Spanish's back!" But I knew there was more to it.

"Way to go! I see you've been studying on your own, huh." Hearing Oliver's compliment reminded me why I was in this hardcore class in the first place. It was the only class everything was just… bueno. Somehow speaking in another language obliged us to let go of anything going on beyond these four walls, or paredes. It was a far reach but when I applied for it, I knew there was no way around it. We needed this class together; it had the capacity to save us someday. Somehow.

When I glanced at him, he no longer appeared like a strange and older version of himself. I didn't need to do that double take I'd been doing for the last few months. He just looked like Oliver, because I now remembered the day he showed up with his new hair-do a year and a half ago. The one that attempted to cover the boy I'd grown up with for some sort of male version of his girlfriend. If it weren't for that minor detail, I would have said he looked awesome, smokin' even, but because I knew the reasoning behind it I never passed a chance to remind him I hated it.

I slowly raised my hand and asked to go to the bathroom which I also skillfully knew how to say in Spanish, and used my head trauma as an excuse.

The moment I stepped in the bathroom, I rushed to the mirrors and starred at myself.

I remembered. I remembered everything. Especially the day when I'd started forgetting.

Oliver was gone for the weekend with his family on their annual weekend trip before school starts. I always went with them, ever since the third grade when Oliver suddenly decided to invite me. It was as much an Oken tradition as it was a tradition between Oliver and me. Those weekends always made it in my Hall of Favorite Summer Memory for each year. But this year was different.

Out of courtesy, Oliver asked me if I was coming and out of courtesy I said I wasn't. He didn't try to change my mind, and I didn't try to come up with an excuse. These last few years had been different. I knew it, he knew it, heck even his parents knew it. And neither of us looked forward to another awkward weekend of pretense as if things were the same when we knew they weren't. So I simply didn't go.

But it wasn't that easy. You don't just toss aside tradition and move on. I was angry—a habitual emotion to my brain by now, and it knew exactly how to unleash it by skateboarding.

I've been a skateboarder since the fifth grade and a competitor since junior high. I don't just "do some trick" and then "lose my balance". Especially not with a trick I had invented and perfected for the last two years. No, I had lost my concentration. Or, to be more specific, it was eaten up by that same anger I had been in the process of releasing. The same anger which had brought me so high in the air flung me back down as I made eye-contact with its source—its dark-haired, pink-lipped, double-initialed, female source. She looked up just in time for me to screech when I realized I had lost contact of my skateboard.

To onlookers, I was lucky she was there to help me out. To me, she was the reason I got into this position to start with.

I hastily turned the faucet on and splashed water over my face. Today was December 13th, and I remembered it just as I remembered the day before that and the one before that. I bit my lip till I punctured it as I fought back tears while I realized the wicked trick my brain had pulled on me.

December 13th, the day I started remembering because it was the day I annually tried to forget. The national anti-Valentine's day if you want. That day Oliver's beanie covered his eyes to a point of unrecognizable. That day, even the Spanish walls couldn't make things bueno. That day, three years ago, Oliver broke up with me.

I know, I know, I'm weird. I go from ridiculously long chapter to ridiculously short. I think this is the shortest chapter I've ever written, while the previous one was the longest lol. I'm sorry, but yeah… I will attempt to update even sooner so you don't go crazy with anticipation :/ Meanwhile you can review (: xoxCamy

PS. Just in case you don't know, bueno means good. (: Now you're not missing out!