Disclaimer: Hey, I don't own anything except my main character. So hush it, bub.
A/N: Again, something to distract me from writing my Rus/Pru story. Sorry. This just randomly popped into my head while reading a friends story, and I just had to write it down. I'm sorry.
I do apologize for any AU-ness, OOC-ness, and any possible grammar/spelling mistakes.
Oh, BTW, this is a Hetalia school story, just not Gakuen Hetalia.
My life is currently hell.
Well, yeah, sure. That is a great way to start a story, especially one written by a teenager. I mean, most stories start with a poem, or something that isn't a totally biased statement. But really.
My life is currently hell.
Sorry. It seems like we've got off on the wrong foot. Hello. My name is Swift. Yeah, bad name, I know. My parents wanted to keep up the tradition of naming their children Native American names, like Running Bear, but I don't think that happens a lot anymore. I'm what you'd call a weird melting pot. Most of my features scream Native American, save for the near platinum blonde hair that comes from Russian ancestors, where my dark blue eyes descend also. I'm also pretty short, even for my American heritage. Probably the only thing that I truly like about my appearance is that my skin is neither too dark nor too pale. It's right in the middle.
I'm currently attending some weird boarding school/private school/college that apparently accepts students that could be too young to even attend a school like this. Oh, and did I mention that it's internationally known?
I don't really know why, but it's so weird that the school acts like a high school sometimes. It has an elected student council, accepting of all ages, but to separate it from normal high schools, it includes dorm rooms. And school uniforms. Blegh.
First of all, I hate petticoats. And I hate skirts. But, we have to wear them almost everyday until that one glorious day when we can wear casual clothes on weekends. Yay.
Yeah, but the main story here is about what happened when the principal called me in to say that I had to sign up for a club, or else my student world would end immediately. Possibly it was because I had no friends, and I had no friends because during my first week here, I punched a snobby rich girl in the face. And broke her nose.
No, this story is not about my visit with the principal. It's about the club that I, unfortunately, joined. The Student-Run-United-Nations. And pretty much all the countries were represented by a foreigner from their homeland.
At least they could all speak English.
A/N: I need ideas for the name of this weirdo school. I'm stumped. D;
Stay tuned, and watch for more from our other stories!