September 1st,
Dear Diary, today was my first day at an American high school and it was...quite interesting to say the least. I have met more people today than I did in a whole year back home. They all wear fake smiles and overpriced clothes-it disgusts me. I gave up on being polite early on after I got called 'homo', 'freak', and 'bull dyke' too many times after I inevitably knocked into people. I can already anticipate that this year will be terrible. I absolutely can not wait for college. Once I get my letter from Harvard, Duke, or Brown I am out. I can imagine it: ivy-covered walls and smokey French cafes. That is, if I manage to fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze.
There was this one girl in my Physics class, though, that seemed nice enough (and oh so beautiful). I'll have to talk to her tomorrow to get a full judge of her character, of course. I hope she doesn't disappoint.
September 2nd,
Dear Diary, I did it! I got to class earlier today than yesterday (I think it helped that I vaguely knew where I was going as opposed to using the stupid map). She was already there, with her supplies and everything-she's such a good student. So I went up to her and we just...talked. It was really nice, actually. Apparently, her name is Madeline Williams, she's a junior, and she moved here two years ago with her mother from Montreal. We sat beside each other during class and even shared phone numbers at the end. Maybe this year won't be as bad as I anticipated.
There was the skirmish at lunch but...oh hell, Kat and Natalya aren't here to spy on me and I doubt Papa will care enough to look here, so I'll spill. I had just finished getting my lunch (with Madeline-we sit together now) when a pair of guys came up to us. They smacked her lunch tray right out of her hands and yelled "Maddie Will-suck! Dicks out!". I was astonished, so it took me a moment to notice that Madeline had just caved into herself and was looking at her shoes, picking non-existent fleece off her sweater. Now, you know me. I have my father's temper, so I told him to pick it up. His face was priceless. He even asked if I was actually talking to him. Hell yeah I was, so I told him "I want to know what gives you the right to pick on my friend." And the best part, I said (not even kidding),"You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant." Then he pointed out a zit that had popped out overnight. Think I lost that battle.
Once we were seated (Madeline and I shared my lunch as hers had been compromised), she told me who the bullies were. One an Alfred F. Jones, who had coincidentally called me a 'skank' earlier when I knocked into him. Apparently, he's on the football team-a linebacker-with Mathias Kohler (his quarterback), the one who smacked her lunch tray. She says that they used to be very nice. I wonder what went wrong. I pray they will change again and be beautiful once more.
September 3rd,
Dear diary, today was so boring. Nothing special happened at all. I met a few more people, sure, but no one noteworthy. I mean, we did have that 'pep rally' as Madeline told me it was called, where a few teachers and counselors herded us into the auditorium to talk about the "new year" and all that. When they talked about mental health, I swear I heard some kids say "somebody hug me". It was weird.
I'm pretty sure I also overheard Madeline say "why won't he love me" while looking at Ram. So I think she has a crush on him, but I'll have to look further into it.
The pep rally ended with the principal forcing us to repeat "THIS WILL BE A BEAUTIFUL YEAR" until he was satisfied. Between you and me, he creeps me out.
September 4th,
Dear Diary, today I met the 'F.J.I'. We were in lunch (as it seems to be the only place anything remotely exciting ever happens), when these three color-coded girls walked in. I hadn't seen them at all in the previous days so I'm guessing they have been ditching until now to make their 'grand entrance'. As they walked through the cafeteria to the one table that had been magically left alone, Madeline told me who each was.
First was Isabella Fernandez Carriedo-the girl farthest to the back. She was wearing a yellow flannel with a thick black belt, matching yellow miniskirt, matching knee-high socks, and simple strap-on heels. Her hair was in an off-center half-ponytail held with a simple yellow ribbon. The color clashes with her olive skin and chocolate-colored hair, but who am I to judge? I am literally wearing an oversized sweater and leggings in September. Apparently, her dad is a Spanish elite who makes all his money selling engagement rings.
Next was the abnormally pale girl-a senior named Julchen Beilschmidt. She runs the yearbook committee so I better be nice to her. Madeline told me that was about as much personality as you could milk out of her, but that her dad did pay for implants so that's something. It does show, though. She was wearing one of those shirts with holes in the sleeves in green whose neckline was showed so much cleavage she might as well have been shirtless. To cover the expanse of her neck was an emerald necklace. Thankfully her black skirt relieved my eyes from the color assault but her knee-high socks didn't help. Her shoes were cute though: black peasant heels.
Last was the 'Almighty': Francine Bonnefoy, surprisingly a junior. Her outfit was by far the best. She was wearing a red, shoulderless shirt with three chains in the front tucked into a plaid skirt. Her matching thigh highs (I will mention hers were the only ones with a design-diamonds) struggled to stay on her plush thighs, but I sure am not complaining. Her hair was in a high ponytail held together by a red scrunchie to complement her outfit. Madeline simply described her as "a mythic bitch", which was also the first time I heard her curse and quite frankly took me by surprise given her angelic face.
Upon reaching their table, she sat with her legs crossed and addressed the crowd-like a queen overseeing her subjects with her color-coded knights flanking her, staring down any possible dissenter. She smiled and spoke with a light French accent, "Hello, beautiful people of Hetalia High. Are we ready to make this a good year?" The cafeteria responded accordingly, the loudest hoots and hollers coming from the football players. Happy with the response, she and her crew turned to the table and everyone else seemed to return to normal.
I have to meet them.
September 5th
Dear Diary, it is finally Friday. I can't believe I have survived this long, but I guess this is only the beginning. Maddie (we're on nickname bases now; she calls me 'Anya') invited me over for a movie night, so I haven't much time. She rented "The Princess Bride" when I mentioned I had never watched it before. Apparently it's her favorite. I am hoping to get more details on the social elite of Hetalia High, now *that* would be beautiful.
