Prologue
Arthur Kirkland - Point of View
[Diary Entry]
Day One, July 28
We were at my house. My somewhat modern, two-story house. It has portraits of our ancestors, who were apparently well known. By 'our', I mean my family. My family is very bizarre in my opinion, but like anyone cares, if that's for sure.
My name is Arthur Kirkland. I am of British descent, yet my siblings were not even close to British. Apparently they were adopted, which I got upset at my parents for because they adopted such, abnoxious children.
They would call me abnoxious back, on the other hand. The oldest one, Scotland, as so my mother would name him, hated me. He always seemed to bully me ever since he was adopted into my family. His name is Scotland because he told my parents that he was never named, and he only told him where he was born.
Next one is Wales. He is apparently the second oldest. Wales can be quiet around me and my parents, but if he was ever in public, he'd start strangling me until someone actually notices. He's more of an attention seeker, in my opinion. Then again, he has no name like Scotland.
The third oldest is Ireland. He usually cried a lot, and hated being seen with me around his friends. We never actually got together as brothers, but my father told us that we soon will be. I don't clearly understand him, as I thought he would have red hair like most Irish people. He apparently has dark brown hair with a good-looking complexion. He had a small amount of freckles, but he seemed okay if he wasn't crying all the time.
My mother was calling for dinner. She has blonde hair like me, and blue eyes. She would always wait for another child who would have her eyes, because she never had a chance to, as I have my father's eyes. Mum, as I call her, and the only one who calls her that, has said at least once that she was very feminine as a teenager, but she still is sometimes.
Father, as I call him, was strong. He is very intelligent, and as a kid, he took everything seriously, and he still does that. A lot of women liked him and approached him if my mother wasn't next to him, since he always forgot to wear his wedding ring. He never got mad at us kids, but if it was necessary, then yes, he would get mad. My father apparently got mad at Ireland once for getting low grades in school, and made him quit playing American video games our cousin gets for us every year, for a whole month.
Now today, was crazy for me. My mother was calling us for dinner, and Wales and Ireland ran to the table. Scotland was walking slow, because he never got enough sleep last night. I spent my whole day writing in this journal Mum gave me yesterday. I once said that journals were like diaries, and that diaries are for girls, but I regretted it when I starts writing in this.
My brothers always forget how old I am, and think I'm only nine years old, since I'm a little short for my age. I'm only eleven, and I'm starting middle school. Kids in my neighborhood think there is no such thing as "middle school" in England, but there actually is. In some parts of England, though. Ireland was starting 8th grade in the same middle school I am attending, and Wales and Scotland are now attending high school.
Such lucky twits.
Arthur stopped writing and put his pen, that has a small unicorn on it, on the coffee table.
"Hey, what is that?" Scotland says, grabbing Arthur's journal. "Hah, you write in a diary?"
"It's a journal," Arthur replies, trying to grab it from Scotland. "And don't even try to say journals are for girls."
"I know," Scotland says. "But you're too old to write in one of those."
"Mum wants me to write in it, and fill it," Arthur said, glaring at Scotland.
"Whatever," Scotland replied and throws the journal at Arthur's face, and leaves the couch.
Arthur approached the dinner table, sitting next to Scotland and grabbed the plate of scones. His father is reading a paper, and Arthur was curious about it. What was he reading?
"Arthur," His father said and looked at him.
"Yes?" Arthur said after he took a bit out of his scone.
"I have a letter from the school you're attending," Mr. Kirkland said as he gave Arthur the paper.
Arthur started reading it. "New people in my class?"
"Yes," Mr. Kirkland said. "One of them is very interesting."
The person he was talking about, Arthur froze. The new person was a transfer student from America. It stated that his name was Alfred F. Jones, and had messy blonde hair and glasses. Arthur started imagining what it would be like to meet him, since he has never met a real American in his whole entire life.
The letter also stated when school started. 'In two weeks?!' Arthur thought.
"In two weeks your child will be starting school. Good luck!," Scotland read on the paper.
"Oh my," Arthur said, and ran upstairs, everyone else unaware why.
Arthur ran to his room and sat on his bed.
"Do I really start school in two weeks?" Arthur said to himself.
"Yes," Flying Mint Bunny said, one of Arthur's imaginary friends since he was seven.
"Another thing, am I really going to meet an American?" Arthur asked Flying Mint Bunny.
"Sure thing," Flying Mint Bunny. "After all, it was your wish."
Maybe today wasn't that bad. I'm meeting an American boy in two weeks. What could possibly happen?