I had a wonderful burst of inspiration in Language Arts class today when we were supposed to be doing test prep (ugh, state testing is awful), I was on my iPhone looking at Hetalia Headcannons (I'm a rebel :D). I'm saying this now-the characters might be a bit OOC, since this is my first Hetalia fic. I only own Alice, Arabella, Jazmine and the plot. All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Now, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, may I present the first chapter of 'A Missing Truth'.

Chapter 1

On school days, I always wake up to an American radio station that only plays American pop and country music, due to the fact that I can't reprogram my alarm clock. It was amazing that I could hack into the DGSE (I could, never said that I actually did), but I couldn't reprogram a simple clock. That day, I was awakened by Rebecca Black's 'Friday'. And it wasn't even Friday.

"Ugh," I muttered and slapped the top of my alarm clock. The annoying pop song stopped and I sat up in my bed, blinking at the darkness of my blurry room. A few seconds later, my lamp lit up the room. My glasses were snatched off my nightstand and sitting on the bridge of my node. School didn't start until 7:30, but I always woke up at 5 on the nose. I never minded getting up early though, I loved seeing the sun rise. My joints cracked and popped like Rice Krispies as I walked over to my bathroom to begin my morning routine. I flipped on the bathroom light and turned on the faucet.

After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I finally looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was the color of carrots, and was in its usual tangled, frizzy, mess of curls. I had very pale skin, not hipster porcelain skin, but like vampire pale, like I had never seen daylight. There was a light spray of freckles across the bridge of my nose and my cheeks. I'm rather tall for my age, since I'm only fourteen and 167 cm tall (five feet and six inches for all you Americans) and I'm on the thin side, because of my height. The most unique part about me, in my opinion, is my eyes. They're an intense ice blue, framed with rather hispster-like black glasses, that are very good for glaring at people.

My messy curls were eventually tamed into a low ponytail. The next step of getting ready was changing out of my pajamas. The tank and sweat pants were chucked into my laundry basket and replaced with a grey cardigan with my school crest, a white button up blouse with a tie, a white knit beenie and a pleated navy skirt. I clipped my gold lion pendant with a blue gem inside its mouth around my neck. It was a gift from Mom and it's the only thing I have from dad, even though he left before I was born. Mom never told me why he left. I was putting on my knee high Converse when my phone began to ring. I plucked it off my dresser and tapped the 'Accept Call' button.

"Âllo?" I said in terrible French, putting on my other shoe. I pressed the phone to my ear and started walking downstairs to the kitchen.

"'Ello Alice," a British accented voice said smoothly in English.

"Hey Jaz," I said with a smile. Jazmine Machiavelli was three years younger than me and a new student from London. She came to St. Joan's about two or so months ago. She's very... different. Jaz usually wears ripped-up skinny jeans, multiple ear piercings and Doc Martens with the school uniform. She isn't afraid of the popular crowd and even openly mocks them. She's hated the majority of St. Joan's, but she's one of my closest friends.

"Am I still driving you to school today? 'Cause I was planning on walking today."

"Nah, it's fine, walking sounds good too. I'll meet you at that Starbucks across the street from St Joan's before school starts, kay?" I said, grabbing my messenger bag off of the coat rack next to the stairs.

"I don't even like coffee," I heard Jaz mutter, but then she said, "Fine, see ya there." She hung up and I slipped my phone into my pocket. I walked into the kitchen and saw that my mom was already up. She was an early riser like me. I sat down at the table and she set a plate of fruit and eggs and a cup of orange juice in front of me. "Thanks Mom."

She flashed a grin in response as I started to eat my breakfast. My mother doesn't look very much like me. Her fiery curls were cut in a neat bob and she had bright green eyes. Like me, she has some freckles on her cheeks, but they add to her appearance. In my opinion, Arabella Rose should be a candidate for mother of the year. She puts up with my fangirling, which is no easy task. She helps me with my cosplay, provides inspiration for my Fanfiction-she even bought me Vocaloid headphones for Christmas! And they actually work! She really is the best mom ever.

"You're welcome sweetie," she said with a faint Scottish accent. We haven't been to Scotland in years, and Mom was loosing her accent. I think she just keeps it for the memories. "Is that Jaz girl giving you a ride to school?" Mom asked while I ate.

My eggs were soon finished and I gulped down some of my orange juice. "No, I'm meeting her at the Starbucks across from school," I told her, getting up and putting my dishes in the sink.

"Okay, be careful." She kissed my forehead and gave me a hug. "Love you."

"Love you too Mom," I replied and went out the front door. I walked in silence for a while, observing my surroundings, then pulled out my Vocaloid headphones that Mom gave me for Christmas. They had rhinestones and a lace outline on the part that goes over your head and the butterfly wings were clear with the black Swallowtail pattern. The part that actually covered your ear lit up around the edges and had a picture of a silver electron pattern on the sides. The microphone was detachable and currently stuck in the front pocket of my bag. I plugged the headphones and listened to Magnet by Miku and Luka. I tried to do a song with the Vocaloid software, but I just didn't have the right skill. I'm better at dancing or singing to the music than actually composing.

I felt someone jerk me off the main street from behind and into an alley. Their grip was tight on my arm as I tried to break free, but it was no use. I tried to yell, but the attacker clasped their hand over my mouth. I looked over and saw Jaz waiting at Starbucks across the street with an impatient expression on her sharp features, her hands stuck in the pockets of her jeans, her leather jacket slung over her shoulder. I tried to catch her eye, but failed. The last thing I remember was the feeling of dropping down a bottomless pit.

AN-Anyone recognize Jaz from my SotINF fics? If you do, virtual cookie to you! (::)

5/8/2014-Now edited

Review!

-MJ2001