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Introduction

Ha, I swear. Guadalupe is such a loser, I’ve been tearing her life apart piece, by piece since we were six, and she still doesn’t know about me. Oh, I never tire of watching her wonder why things go wrong. Why am I destroying Guadalupe’s life, you may ask? Simply because she has everything, that I don’t. What does she have that I don’t? In order to show you, I’m going to have to go into my family’s history. Ugh, I hate looking back, alright, here it goes:
My grandfather was an escaped convict from China, his name was Xia. Xia was wanted for his brilliant schemes aimed towards making unfair fortune, his work simply wasn’t appreciated in China. So, he ran away to a different country, this little communist island called Cuba. Of course it wasn’t a communist country back then, but it is now. Anyway he married a poor farmer’s girl, with no one aware that he was a wanted man. Well the couple had been married for four years and had seven children, one of which was Jay-Lee, my father. All was well until the Chinese government found Xia and sent him off to jail. Grandmother was devastated and was left to bring up seven children on her own. My father grew up in this chaotic, hectic family, waiting for his father to return all through childhood. Then when he graduated from high school, grandmother told him that Xia would not return, because he had died of a sickness in jail. Jay-Lee was very disappointed that his father would not return, but he went on with life. He married a beautiful American women during college, and had a child, me! Well it was only about three months later before Jay-Lee found another Cuban woman. He started to date her lying that he had no other wife. Well Jay-Lee’s first wife, my mother, found father and his girlfriend making out in the park, and demanded a divorce. Father and the girlfriend got married and stayed married for a full three years, and had two more children during that time. But then he decided that his wife wasn’t the right woman for him and he divorced her. He tried to go back to his first wife, but she denied him. I was four at this time and hardly knew my father or his other wife/ex-wife, I lived with my real mother at the time, but then a year later on my fifth birthday, mother got sick and died a week later. So, I was forced to live with my lying, cheating, father and yet another girlfriend.
I hated Cindy from the moment I laid eyes on her. She was way to pretty for any of it to be natural beauty, it was just all make-up; it was so obvious. Cindy was always sneaking me dirty looks, and hinting that she didn’t want me in the room. And she lured my father into having one more child, but it turned out to be twins, even though he already had plenty of kids to care for. Sadly father still hasn’t ditched Cindy. I hate her, she never pays any attention to us kids, but steals father all the time.
So that’s my family history. It stinks right? I mean, my father is a complete jerk and my real mother, the only family member I really cared about died when I was five. And to top it all off, my life is totally just doing extra activities so I can get away from Cindy. But Guadalupe doesn’t have a bad family history like I do, no her family history is perfectly straightforward, while mine is totally tied into knots.
Guadalupe’s grandfather, Pablo, was a simple civilian owning a grocery store before he switched over to becoming a human rights activist and landed in jail for thirty-seven years. Pablo died after twenty-two years in jail, he came down with a sickness but the jail refused him the medical attention he needed so he died. Guadalupe’s grandmother’s name was Julie, she was of African origin and her family had been in Cuba for generations. When she met Pablo her father refused the acquaintance because Pablo’s family had immigrated into Cuba not ten years earlier. So the couple ran away to the other side of the island and married there. After being married for seven years they finally had a child, Guadalupe’s dad, Miguel. Miguel was a smart man and made high into his career, of dancing, before later joining the Navy. Well, one day while at work he met a new recruit, Guadalupe’s soon-to-be mom. The two met and talked over some coffee, and then and there became friends. They knew each other for seven years before they got married and then another five years they were married before they had Guadalupe.
Guadalupe Ivelisse Yamile Suarez was, at the time I met her, the oldest of two other siblings, Maritza Adoncia Suarez, and a newborn named Clarita Estefania Suarez, but by the time she would reach the age of nine she would be the oldest of one more sibling: Miguel Pedro Suarez. Guadalupe was born to a family of high-expecting parents, who wanted the best of everything for their children no matter what had to be done to get the best. I wish my parents were like that.
Her parents wanted to give the best education to their children, the best food, clothing, home and wanted to give them the most indulgence into the arts as possible, that they might be able to leave the country someday. Guadalupe got chosen to be put into a Cuban dance program, based on her father’s previous experience in Cuban dancing. After a few weeks of learning the Cuban dance, it turned out that Guadalupe had inherited a lot of her father’s talents in dancing, she turned out to be a natural. It wasn’t too long before she was moved up a class because she was so good. But she had inherited her parents’ hardworking/smart genes and it was in her blood to accomplish anything she tried. As Guadalupe grew older and went up through grade school, she was always the top student in school, she also was the top student in dance, and pretty much anywhere else that she went.
Well it wasn’t long before Guadalupe met me and two other girls, us four girls were partnered together for a dance in class. We all went to the same school as Guadalupe, so when the four six-year-olds got to know each other, we became fast friends. Us little girls (and not so “little” later on) were inseparable told each other everything, and did everything together. We were all so young and naive, so unsuspecting, especially Guadalupe. She had no idea what would happen in her future: betrayal, and total destruction.


Chapter 1
Welcome to My Twisted Life!

“Oh, and don’t forget to read chapters nine through twelve for tomorrow’s quiz.” reminded my Biology teacher, Mrs. Csomay just as the last bell of the day rang. I scribbled a few more quick notes, stood up, grabbed my books and walked out the door. It was Thursday, July 13, and school was almost out. I was so excited, no more school soon! Yay! I walked all the way down the hall, to my locker, number 492. I undid my lock, my code was (a number that when decoded mean betrayal in a different language). When I opened my locker, papers, textbooks, notes, pencils and notebooks came flying at me.
“Oh man!” I exclaimed, “Why does this always happen?” I knelt down to begin picking the “mount trashmore that had just fallen from my locker, when a girl walked up to me.
“Hey Guadalupe. What happened here?” she asked.
“Just the usual ‘locker avalanche’!” I joked,
“Here let me help you.”
“Thanks Sandra.” I said giving her a grateful look.
“So, you want to come over to my house after practice?” Sandra asked as she stacked up the History, Biology and Math textbooks.
“Sure, I’d love to.” I said, “You want to come over to my place before practice? We can bike there together.”
“No, I can’t,” Sandra apologized as she neatly placed a piece of paper into one of Guadalupe’s binders, “I have to go shopping for some groceries before dance.”
“Okay,” I said nonchalantly as I grabbed some notes and stuffed them into a notebook, “I’ll see you at eight then.”
“As always,” smiled Sandra as she stood up, grabbed her backpack and walked away.
Sandra and I had known each other since kindergarten, we both did dance and went to the same school so we saw each other a lot. The day Sandra and I met we were partnered together for a dance in class. I remember our first sleepover together, we stayed up until seven in the morning, and then we crashed. We had a lot of fun when we were little. Suddenly the bell signaling all students to go home broke me out of my trance as I remembered where I was. I had been standing there for the past five minutes and now the hall was almost empty. I looked down at my planner, I had Biology, Math, Government, Spanish, and Health homework all due tomorrow and I had an English project due in a week that I should probably get started on. I roughly jammed my books into my ripped-up backpack and walked down the hall. Once out of the school I hopped on my bike and rode all the way to my apartment that I shared with my roommate, Maria. When I got there, she wasn’t home, ‘she is probably out on a date or something, oh well’ I shrugged it off as I dumped my backpack on the couch and headed for the fridge. I didn’t eat lunch at school, because the food didn’t taste good, so I was usually starving by the time I got home. I grabbed some cheese and crackers and shoved them into my mouth. I looked at the only clock in our apartment, it said it was only 2:45, practice started at 3:30, and it took about fifteen minutes to bike there.
‘That’s about thirty minutes to get Health finished and some of Spanish started, and when I get back I can finish Spanish and work on all the rest’ I thought. I walked over to the kitchen table and grabbed my backpack. One look at the table and I knew that Maria had had some friends over. I got a washcloth and wiped the table and some counters, I scrubbed all the dishes and put them to dry in the drying rack; I gave the floor a quick sweep before sitting down to start on Health. The assignment was to read chapters seven, eight, and nine and to write a reflective essay on them. ‘Yippee, I love reflective essays!’ I thought sarcastically. Fifteen minutes later I looked up at the clock, it read 3:15, “I need to hurry up, or I’m going to be late.” I thought as I jumped up from the table and hit my leg, “Ow!” I ran to my room changed into a loose T-shirt and some stretchy pants,

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