Chapter 1
July 1, 1867:
"Almost got it…" America said to himself. He stood on tip-toe while he decorated. It was a busy time for him. Independence Day was coming up; his birthday! He had to be ready for big the day. His whole house, inside and out, was completely decked out in red, white, and blue. Star-spangled banners were everywhere. Deliveries of party food and gifts had been pouring in all day. The boxes were scattered all over the place. At the moment, America was standing on top of a huge ladder in his massive party room, putting up the finishing touch: red, white, and blue streamers that would hang down from a giant chandelier, and stretch out to the walls all around the large room. The streamers were so thick, that it was almost like the room was covered with a patriotic tent top, instead of a flat ceiling. America was struggling to get the final streamer to stick to the chandelier.
"Just a little more…" he whispered. Suddenly, the door to the great room flew open with a 'BANG!' A loud voice echoed around the room.
"ALFRED!"
"WHOA!"
America's concentration was broken, and he was knocked off balance by the shock of the noise. He felt the ladder under him shake. His arms few outwards in an attempt to regain his balance, but they got tangled in the web of streamers. The ladder tilted and slipped out from under his feet. It smashed into the floor like a felled tree. America was not far behind. He landed on the floor next to the ladder, pulling his precious streamers along with him. America's hands had instinctively grabbed for something to stop his fall, but of course the only thing they got a hold of were the surrounding streamers that his arms had become caught in. Great for decoration, but useless as life lines, the entire streamer mass was torn from place and brought down by America's weight. As he lay dazed and buried beneath a giant bundle of patriotic cloth, he could vaguely hear the shrieking of the voice that had caused his downfall.
"OH - SWEET - SUGAR - MAPLE - WHAT - HAVE - I - DONE?"
Quick footsteps were then heard. America groaned in pain as he tried to sit up. He could feel the streamers being pulled off of him.
"Alfred! Alfred, are you alright? I'm so, so sorry!
America recognized the voice, but barely. Its owner usually wielded it in a calmer and quieter style. Now it was loud with worry and running a mile a minute.
"Here, let me help you get up!"
America looked up briefly to see his living mirror image: his twin brother, Canada. Canada wrapped America's arm around his shoulders and lifted him up. America grunted in pain and annoyance. He pushed Canada off of him and tried to steady himself on his own.
"Cut it out! I can get up by myself!"
Normally, America would have been tickled pink to see his brother. However, at this moment he was extremely annoyed by the interruption, the fall, the pain, and the fact that results of his decorating genius now laid in a heap on the floor. As he untangled himself from the streamers, he took out his frustration by roughly refusing any kind of assistance the Canadian offered.
"Are you sure you're not hurt? You shouldn't be moving around so fast. What if you—"
"Shut up! I'm fine!"
Canada finally backed away.
"I-I'm sorry," his voice returned to its reserved tone. "I'm sorry for intruding like this. Please don't be mad. I can see you're busy, so I-I'll just come back some other time."
Canada turned for a quick retreat. He did not want to be around his brother if he was upset. He was surprised when America grabbed him by the back of his shirt.
"Wait," America said with a sigh. "Just calm down, will ya? I'm not mad." He rubbed his shoulder and groaned again as he spoke. "A little banged up, but not mad."
"I'm sorry."
America tried to shrug it off.
"Ah, don't worry about it. I've been through worse." He turned his attention to the pile of streamers on the floor. "Oh man! It took me all day to get those up."
"Sorry."
"Will you stop saying that?" America snapped as he bent down to gather up the mess.
"But I feel terrible!" Canada confessed. "This is all my fault. I knew I shouldn't have burst in like that, but I was so excited about—OOPH!"
America shoved a giant wad of streamers into his brother's arms.
"If you really feel that bad about it, you can help re-hang everything," he suggested as he put the ladder back in place.
"Oh, erm, sure," Canada stammered. "I could do that."
"Great!" America said and began rolling up his sleeves—trying to be positive about it all. "If I got them up once, I can do it again!" he grinned as he spoke. He relished challenges. "You can toss them up to me, ok?"
"A-alright."
Canada put the pile on the ground and held the ladder steady as America climbed with a few streamers over his shoulder. Once he was standing on the top of the ladder again, Canada bent down and started untangling the pile of streamers that his brother had left behind. He sat on the first step of the ladder to make sure it stayed still while he sorted out the mess. He could hear America high above him, humming something patriotic as he re-attached the decorations. Canada smiled. America always tried to act so cheerful. Still, Canada worried about his brother. He figured that America was probably overworking himself over his birthday this year. Not much time had passed since his brother's civil war, but America had been working almost none-stop trying to reunite his country. Preparing for his birthday would be especially important to America now because it was the one holiday that both the Northern and Southern States should be celebrating together. Canada wished that he could do something more to help his brother than put up streamers. Because Canada had always been the more mature and level-headed twin, he felt sort of responsible for his brother. He didn't like to see his reckless brother get hurt, yet he had never been able to do much more than worry about him from a distance.
Despite the fact that they lived so close together, the North American brothers didn't get to see each other often. Ever since America had rebelled, England had tried to discourage Canada from spending time with his twin. However, England's efforts to keep the brothers separated weren't exactly successful because America still came over to Canada's place whenever he felt like it. Canada wanted to respect his father figure's wishes, but even he had moments of weakness. Every now and then, when England was not around, Canada would sneak away for a visit with his brother. The visits between the two were always short, though. Put America and Canada together and it would not be long before they would be driving each other crazy. Yet for some reason, that would not stop them from wanting to see each other again.
The brothers had a strong bond even though their personalities were complete opposites. Sometimes, they frustrated the living daylights out of each other, but that didn't change the fact that they were still brothers. Other than that one major rough patch in their history in 1812 (which was really just another disagreement between America and England that Canada had gotten dragged into), they got along fairly well. They still had their disagreements, but at some point in their lives they had both realized that, geographically speaking, they were stuck with each other whether they liked it or not. Therefore, they figured that they might as well attempt to keep peace.
"So why are you here anyway?" America interrupted Canada's thoughts with his sudden question. "You usually send a note before you come for a visit."
"Eh? Oh, I almost forgot!" Canada dropped the streamer he was working on and looked up at America. "Something incredible just happened back home! I had to tell someone about it, and you were the first person I thought of. I couldn't wait to send a letter, so I rushed right over."
"Give me a break!" America snorted. "Nothing big ever happens at your place. How exciting could it be? Oooh, I got it! England finally kicked all the Frenchies out, didn't he?"
"No!" Canada replied with slight anger. He hadn't even made his big announcement yet, and already his brother was belittling it! Right when Canada was working up the nerve to chew his sibling out, the subject was changed.
"Hey, does England even know you're here? Wouldn't want you to get in trouble for fraternizing with the 'bad influence' again."
Canada could just hear the grin on America's face when he added that last part. It was almost as if his brother was proud that England considered him to be the family black sheep. One of the reasons England had been trying to keep Canada away from America was because he had been afraid that America's dominating personality would influence the meeker Canadian. In a way, it already had. The Revolutionary War had not exactly been an enjoyable experience for Canada, either. While England and America had fought, Canada had felt caught in the middle. He had ached for England's pain when America finally split from him. Yet, somewhere deep in his heart, there was a tiny part of him that was happy for his brother. A tiny part that had been cheering him on the entire time. A tiny part that realized that he wanted a little more freedom as well. Just a little. Was that too much to ask? Canada had to smile to himself now because he knew that because of that small part of him that maybe his brother had brought out, things were about to change.
"I…I don't need Arthur's permission to come over here anymore," Canada said slowly.
"Hm? Why not?"
"Because I…well, I'm on my own now," Canada spoke softly. He finally said it. It was the first time he had said it out-loud. Those words sounded so strange coming out of his own mouth. It still seemed unbelievable.
"What?"
"I said that I'm my own nation now," Canada spoke up a little louder. Whoa. Now that really sounded weird. Canada almost felt like he was speaking a different language. "That's what I wanted to tell you."
America stopped working. For a second or two, he was silent. Canada didn't know what he was thinking. Maybe he was taking it in. All of a sudden, Canada heard him give a little laugh and saw him continue his work.
"Very funny," America chuckled. "Now what did you really want to tell me?"
The reaction stunned Canada. He had come all this way to share his historical moment with his brother and America didn't believe him! He probably should have seen that coming, but still...
"That was it."
"No way," America replied again in a "You're not fooling me," tone.
"I'm serious!" America's scoffing and skeptical attitude was beginning to really aggravate Canada. "Why would I joke about that?"
America got quiet again. He looked down at Canada with a confused expression.
"You really mean it?"
"Yes, of course I really mean it," Canada said as firmly as he could manage.
Before Canada knew what was happening, his brother was on the ground in front of him. America had dropped what he was doing and had slid down the ladder like lightening. Luckily, Canada had been quick enough to jump back so his brother wouldn't crash into him when he landed. As soon as America's feet had hit the ground he had turned and grabbed his bewildered, Canadian counterpart by the shoulders.
"When did this happen?" America demanded to know.
"T-t-today," Canada choked out with a wince as his brother's grip tightened. He hadn't expected his brother to freak out like this. America was shouting at him, but Canada couldn't tell if it was from shock or anger.
"Today?" America shrieked. "That's impossible! You're telling me you became a country all in one day?"
"N-no, not exactly," Canada tried to remain calm. Maybe America would calm down too if he stayed composed. "It's been something I've been working on for a while."
"And I missed it?" America exclaimed with disappointment.
"I…uh…" Canada wasn't sure how to respond.
"Mattie!" America whined. "You should have told me! I could have helped you out!"
"Er…how…I mean—Wah!"
America began to forcefully turn Canada around in a circle and look him over.
"Hm. Guess you didn't need my help. You don't have a scratch!" Canada tried to speak up here, but he was silenced with a hearty slap on the back. "I'm impressed, Matt. You must have totally dominated!" America rattled on while Canada made a few more weak attempts to correct his brother's assumptions.
"Ah, Alfred. I-I think you have the wrong idea—"
"Well, I gotta say, I always knew you had it in you, but I never really thought you would let it out."
"I'm sorry, but could you let me—"
"Shoot! I can't believe you got in a war with England and I missed out!"
"Al, you didn't really—"
"Wait a minute!" America suddenly grabbed Canada again. His face was anxious. "You didn't hurt England too bad, did you?"
"No! No! It wasn't like that!" Canada was glad that he finally had a chance to talk. "There wasn't a war, or fighting, or anything like that."
America released Canada. He looked as if his brain was having trouble comprehending Canada's explanation.
"What do you mean? If you didn't fight England, then how did you—"
"I asked him."
America stared blankly at Canada.
"You asked him?"
"Um-hm."
Silence.
"Seriously? You just asked him?"
"Yeah."
"And he actually said yes?"
"Well…not exactly," Canada clarified. "Not the first time, anyway. The first time I brought it up, he said no." (Actually, England's exact words had been much stronger, but Canada, being even more of a gentlemen than England was, decided against repeating them out-loud.) "But I kept negotiating with him, and he finally said yes!" Canada was quite proud of his diplomatic persistence.
"You're kidding!" A huge grin appeared on America's face—partly because he was happy for his brother, but mostly because he thought the whole account was extremely humorous. Asking nicely for permission to strike out on his own would be so typical of his brother. But what really amazed America was that England had given in!
"I can't believe that actually worked!"
"I know, eh? I can't believe it either!" Canada was just as amazed as America.
"You lucked out, Bro! The old man must be getting soft." Immediately, America's mind began coming up with ways he could tease England about this the next time he saw him. Oh, how the "Old Softy" would get it! Canada just shrugged, unaware of his sibling's mischievous thoughts.
"Perhaps, but when you think about it—"
"Wait!" America held a hand up to shush Canada. "Something's missing here."
"What?" Canada questioned, but America didn't look at Canada. He was in deep thought. Finally, he turned to his brother with a dead serious look on his face and gave him the answer. It was spoken barely above a whisper:
"Fireworks."
"Pardon?" Canada ventured nervously.
America grabbed Canada and pointed a finger dramatically to the sky.
"WE NEED FIREWORKS!"
End of part 1. I'll add more details on the history behind all this later!
