64 The Prince of Spain

Roselle knew what her teacher was trying to do. He was trying to make her hated among her classmates. Well, too bad for him, she had the advantage. For starters, she couldn't care less if her classmates hated her. Secondly, she studied spanish vocabulary for HOURS with Celio the previous night. She was pumped and ready to teach this guy not to underestimate her.

She stood up with a smile on her face. "Okay. I'm not scared," she said, feeling slick and smug.

Professor Jimenez widened his eyes at that response, but the fear in his eyes was so well-hidden that you'd have to look for it to see it (and she WAS looking for it). He wrote down a series of two hundred words on the board.

"We didn't even cover most of those!" a student complained.

The teacher scoffed. "Don't just rely on the words you learn in class. If you're truly dedicated to learning a language, you have to go beyond the class." He smiled at Roselle. "Isn't that right, Ms. Reyes?"

She smiled. "Right."

Little did the teacher know that she HAD studied all those words. She was more than ready to show what she was worth.

* * *

After twenty minutes, Roselle finished the quiz on the board. The most difficult part was remembering the place of the accents, but she managed. She turned to her teacher.

"So?" She crossed her arms. "What do you think?"

Professor Jimenez dropped his jaw. "You . . . only got seven wrong," he said.

She smirked. "I guess we pass then."

Her classmates giggled.

The teacher clenched his fist. "Not quite yet."

Her smile faded. "But I passed!"

"Oh, Ms. Reyes. There's more to learning a language than just grammar. Are you so complacent that you think I would just let you pass a memory game? I think not."

"What are you saying?"

"Sure, you wrote down most of the words correctly, but can you pronounce them?"

Crap! That was her weakness: pronunciation! He just added that at the last minute to torment her, didn't he?"

The teacher pointed at a word: manzana. "Pronounce this."

She froze. "Main--main sana," she said.

He scoffed. Not even close. He pointed at the next word: libro. "This?"

"Libdo," she said.

"What's wrong, Roselle Reyes? Can't roll your r's? That's pretty ironic considering your name's got TWO of them."

As a matter of fact, she couldn't. Roselle SUCKED at rolling her r's. She sucked at spanish. "I . . ."

He gave a devilish grin. "Well, seeing are you couldn't even pronounce these basic words, you don't deserve to pass today. F."

"But--"

"You can all thank your good friend Roselle here for the failure today," Professor Jimenez said. "Maybe next time you'll hold your tongue before you speak."

Roselle took the walk of shame back to her lawn chair as she soaked up all the hateful stares from the class.

* * *

The following afternoon, Celio and Roselle studied pronunciation and conjugation for HOURS, but it never seemed to really work. No matter what they tried, no matter the angle, Roselle still couldn't seem to pronounce words right--ESPECIALLY words with the letter 'r' in them.

"This is hopeless." Roselle put her head down on the desk. "Why do I suck so much at pronunciation and grammar?"

Celio rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you're really good with vocabulary. It was really impressive how quickly you learned all those words."

"Yeah, but learning a language is more than just learning words. If I see them on paper I know what they are, but I can't really make or understand sentences." She gave him a sad look. "I hope you're not frustrated with me."

"Of course I'm not. I told you I was going to help you, and I will until the very end."

She smiled at him, causing him to blush and turn away.

Something on the desk piqued Roselle's interest: envelopes with some sort of royal crest on them. "Celio, where is this symbol from?" she asked, holding one in the air.

"That's the Spanish royal family's crest," he said.

She opened the letter.

"Wait, maybe you shouldn't open that."

Roselle couldn't decipher the letter at all. The spanish was too advanced for her. All she saw was the name signed at the bottom. She smirked at the treasurer. "Who's Larina?" she asked.

"She's one of the princesses of Spain."

"Is she your girlfriend?" she teased, nudging him.

He jumped back. "N--no! Of course not!"

"Then why is she writing you letters?"

"That's not mine. That's my roommate's."

Roselle gaped her mouth. "I didn't know you had a roommate."

"Yeah, I met him back when I was going to school at this university. We were roommates back then too. He's a friendly guy, but he's too lax and carefree. I'm staying with him temporarily while I'm tutoring you." He groaned. "If I wasn't cleaning this room, it would be a pigsty."

"So how does he know the Princess of Spain?"

"Well, she's his sister."

"Woah, so that means you're roommates with the Prince of Spain?"

"Indeed."

The sound of a key-turning was flickering in the doorknob.

Celio stared at the door curiously. "Is he back already?"

The door opened, and Vicente walked in with his football uniform.

Roselle jumped and pointed at him. "What are YOU doing here?" she asked.

He gave her a smirk. "I live here."

She took a minute to stare at him in awe. "You mean YOU'RE the Prince of Spain?"

"One of the princes, anyway."

Celio went back and forth looking at them. "You two know each other?"

Roselle sighed and sat back down. "Unfortunately, yes."

Vicente took his shirt off and changed nonchalantly like it was nothing at all.

"Why are you doing that when I'm here?" She covered her eyes with her hands.

He chuckled. "It's my room. You've seen it all before anyway, no?"

Celio's eye widened and he stared at Roselle for a moment. "Uh . . . Am I missing something?"

"It's not what it sounds like! Why did you have to say it like that?!" she exclaimed.

The prince wiped his face on a towel. "Celio, why didn't you tell me the girl you were tutoring was so beautiful? I wish I knew you were tutoring the lovely Roselle."

Celio glared at him and said something in spanish. Roselle didn't understand him, but Celio sounded angry and she was certain he used curse words.

"Alright, I'll back off," Vicente said. "Don't mind me, just continue on with your lesson."

"Okay, thanks." He turned back to Roselle. "Let's practice with your grammar a little. Try to say something."

"Um . . ." She cleared her throat. "Ellos son amigos [they are friends]."

"That was good," said Celio.

She smiled. "Really? I got it right?"

"Sure, if you're not trying to learn castilian spanish," Vicente interrupted. "You should use 'vosotros' instead of 'ellos'."

Roselle was disoriented from her lack of understanding. "What's 'castilian' spanish?"

"Spanish directly from Spain."

"Stop confusing her!" Celio said. "She's not learning castilian spanish. She's learning Mexican spanish. Professor Jimenez is Mexican."

Vicente slouched and leaned against the wall. "Yes, but he prefers castilian spanish straight from the origin country of the language. He'll be impressed."

"She's already confused enough as it is."

He chuckled. "That's because you're not teaching her properly."

"Excuse me?"

"You're sitting in a room with her as she learns with flashcards and books. She should be out going on adventures, talking to fascinating people. Not being cooped up in a room all day. Learning our language should be fun, but you're making it so boring and stressful."

Celio rolled his eye. "We'll get to that later. We can't just have fun all the time."

Vicente turned to Roselle. "You're the one who's being taught. What's your judgement?"

Without even having to think about it, she replied, "I think Celio is doing a fine job of teaching me. We never asked for your input. Stay out of it."

He shrugged. "If you say so. I have to tell you the truth though, no one ever truly learned a language without going out and really immersing themselves." He was very passionate as he spoke. "But what do I know? Celio is un genio [a genius], not me."

"Go away," Roselle said.

He sighed. "Very well." With that, the Prince of Spain left.

* * *

Celio and Roselle spent another hour and a half learning about grammar and whatnot when the treasurer's phone vibrated. When he checked his phone, he stood up, shocked.

"What's wrong?" Roselle asked.

"My mother . . ." He looked away from the phone. "My mother is in the hospital. She had a heart attack."

She clasped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry to hear that."

"I'm very sorry Roselle, but I think I have to go back to Mexico right away to see if she's alright." He got up and started packing his things.

She nodded. "I understand."

He stopped packing for a moment. "But . . . Your grammar and pronunciation . . . I can't let you fail again!"

She got up and touched his shoulder. "Celio, it's okay. You need to see your Mom. That's more important than anything else. I would do the same for my parents."

"Yes, but . . ." He groaned. "Stay here. I'll get someone who can teach you."

* * *

Celio left the room for a few minutes, and not long after, he returned with Vicente.

"I'm sorry, but he's the only person I could find to tutor you on such a short notice," Celio said, face-palming.

"Oh boy," Roselle said, face-palming as well.

Vicente smiled. "Guess I'll be tutoring you after all, Ro."