I look myself up in the mirror. I'm clad in a smart, crisp, blue blazer and blue tapered pants. The neat, blue and white stripy tie is hung slightly askew around my collar. I reach out to adjust it, and boy, do I look smart or what?
Let me explain things, today's my first year at senior high. It's going to be pretty hectic for me because I've got four totally weird brothers, and two of them, sadly, will also be in the new posh school of mine.
Don't get me wrong; I don't hate them. But I'd much rather not be associated with them in public. It's something too embarrassing, really. They're not exactly what I'd call normal. I'll show you why.
The oldest brother in my family is this 24-year-old guy (who turns 25 this year!), whose hair is so untidy, you'd think he has never tried brushing it down before. Knowing him, he probably never has. He's obnoxiously loud half the time, and he's a bit thick in interpreting unsaid words. And he plays the sax. His name is Denmark, and he's a University student. Shocker, I know. What's even more shocking is that he majors in two distinct areas; mathematics and physics. He loves numbers, and I guess that's why he manages the bills really well.
Second in hierarchy is this creepy brother I have. Creepy as in scary. Really, really scary. Because he's got these really piercing blue eyes and when he's eyeing me with that look of his, it's like he's see into my very soul. They say that eyes are the windows to our souls, but every time my brother looks at me like that, I'd wish I'd never had eyes to begin with. Scary. I know. He'll be 24 this year and his name's Sweden. He's just started college. He majors in biology, he's more into the botanic side of biology though – funny how a hulking guy like Sve would actually like pretty, dainty flowers.
Next up, is Norway. He's just as bad as Sve, only weirder. At the age of 17-going-on-18, Nor hasn't grown out of his love for fairytales yet. He's got these lethal blue stare that can paralyze you on spot. And when he smiles, it's probably the end of the world. I mean, I don't smile much either, but I do it when I feel like it. Nor never smiles. Even if he gets the biggest piece of chicken. And I think the only reason he ever pays attention to me is because I'm one of the two unlucky brothers who are younger than he is. Heck, I'm younger than everyone. That sucks. Seriously.
Then there's Finland. Fin's still 16 this year but his birthday's just round the corner, he's in the second year already. This brother is really off the rails. He's so effeminate that he plays the flute. I find that sissy. I mean guys are supposed to play something cool, like the drum or electric guitar or something. Nor plays the violin, and that's feminine too. Sve plays the piano, which is ok except he has this weird quirk where he likes to make sad situations even sadder by playing tragic songs. But that's not my point, what I'm trying to say is that Fin is seriously girly. He even has this high-pitched squeaky voice that proves my point exactly.
Yup, I'm definitely the only one normal in this totally whacked out family. Tragic, isn't it?
"Ice! You done yet?"
That's Finland calling. I guess it's time to go. My first year at Stonecross High. I'm anticipating my new school. It's really big and mighty, I remember it when I went for Sve and Den's graduation. It's some kind of family tradition; we all trudge through the same school. We leave our family trail wherever Denmark goes. So he's always pressured to do well so that the other smarts in my family don't get dragged down.
I think you might have realized that I've never mentioned words about my parents. I used to have them, and then something happened. But I don't just rant to anybody about my family history. It's dark and musty. I can't remember what happened, it's all hazy in my memory. They say you can forget things if you really try, I must have tried really hard because I can't remember nuts about it. Though, from what my brothers tell me, it's bad.
To make a long story short, my parents disappeared off the face of the earth. And at that time, Denmark's 18, he had just received his official freedom, which makes him available as an official guardian. So everything was shoved under his responsibility, though most of the time, it's Sve who looks after us. Den's childish. Worse than me. I swear.
ooOoo
I quickly make my way down the stairs. I'm bubbling with anticipation. I can't wait for my first year, though I'm not quite sure why. I've always been an introvert and no one makes the effort to know me. I'd probably suffer another three good years as the lonely, white snowdrift haired boy who skips out on physical education and talks to birds in the yard. I don't really care.
I skip down the stairs in my smart dress code. I'm excited as hell, but of course, two of my brothers won't be there to send me off. Den and Sve are off at Uni, but they did leave a scrawled message on a post-it.
"Good luck on your first day, Ice. Don't make a fool of yourself." Was written in Sve's neat scrawl handwriting, like slanting vines.
Denmark's handwriting portrays who he is: messy. It's not that bad, but it's obviously worse than Sve's. "Hey Ice! The youngest bro in the family's finally in Stonecross! Send old Mr. Hartfey my regards. I'll get you that parrot you want as a congratulatory gift tonight!"
I grin. Cool.
ooOoo
Nor, Fin and I, have just reached the school grounds, and the school is looming overhead. It's huge. I swear it even looks like a mansion. The driveway is large and a giant fountain is sprouting water in all directions. It's a huge common area where the other school buildings are linked. There's a small drop off corner for parents who send their kids to school. The building's all brick, stone and weed. Just like in those old classic storybooks.
Norway pokes me.
"New First Years have to assemble in the grand hall first. We'll see you around." He says, almost disinterestedly. But if you've lived with Nor as long as I have, you'll know when he's being sincerely happy for you. And he was happy for me. Just that he doesn't smile.
I wave them off as I head up the stairs to the huge double doors that leads to the grand hall.
The hall looks like a huge theatre. Like those posh ones where Broadway Musical would stage performances. There's a winding staircase at the sides when you enter, they lead you to the upper tiers and it's amazing. The chairs are all velvety and red. The stage is wide and at the side, there's a glossy grand piano standing in the gloomy lights. Large, crimson draperies hang off a frame, flanking the stage from the sides. If you look up, you see towers of tiers and seat boxes looking over the grand stage. It's simply amazing.
The hall is abuzz with chattering and noises. It's almost like a supermarket, except everyone looks smart. And they're smart. Because these are the people who managed to pass the entrance exams. Like me.
I walk down the aisle to the first few rows where hordes of first years are gathered. They all look prim and proper, and it makes me feel weird. Because this is completely different to my junior high school, which was a complete dump, mind you. Denmark must have made a real big jump to get to a school like this. And Norway's pretty darn smart to have passed the entrance exams without studying.
I make my way to an empty chair; it's one of the vacancies in the crowded place. I want a good close up of the principal before I start my life here. As I squeeze through the narrow gaps between the seats and finally slump into the vacant chair, a girl next to me looks up from a book she's been reading.
She has toffee coloured skin and her eyes are pigmented chocolate brown. She looks surprised. Her long coffee tinted hair is tied into two neat pigtails with adorning red, lush ribbons. She smiles sweetly, and I flush.
"Hi," she says.
I consider my options carefully. I could either ignore her or respond. I thought it was pretty much worth the effort to try and make friends. Just this once.
"Hey." I reply, cautious as ever.
"Nice hair."
I'm stunned. I've never, in the 15 years I've lived, ever heard such compliment about my hair. People think I'm overstressed because my hair is paper white. I can't tell whether she's kidding or just being sincere. I don't know what to do, so I reply her with the best I can come up with.
"You too." Pathetic. I know. But I'm not a smooth talker like Den or Fin.
"I'm Seychelles." She's introducing herself.
"Iceland," I mumble, "that's my name – I mean."
A silly grin stretches across her face and her eyes are dancing with humour. I don't know what's so funny, and before I can ask, the speakers boom into life as the principal takes centre stage.
ooOoo
Mr. Hartfey drags on the opening ceremony speech, and people are clapping; laughing. It's a joyous harmony of cheerful voices as the principal congratulates us on our successful entry.
He then launches into a mundane lengthy speech of school rules, expectations and everything else that schools usually run through. I'm not all that interested, and halfway through the preceding, I find myself engaged in a cheap game of tic-tac-toe with Seychelles. She's fun, and it feels good to have a friend.
The ceremony comes to a close with the announcement of the top scorer of the cohort. Everyone is holding their breaths, they're all wishing, praying, hoping it's them. I'm not though, and neither is Seychelles. We're more interested in the hangman game we're playing.
"And the top scholar for this year's entry cohort is…" Mr. Hartfey drags, " Hong Kong!"
There's some exasperated sighs, but a round of applause rings through the hall anyway. Before I know it, the kid next to me (not Seychelles mind you) stands up and makes his way to the stage for a short valedictorian speech.
He's got slanted eyes, and his black hair hangs over his eyes. His raven hair is long and it frames his face with long, glossy strands. He looks like a typical badass, and right there and then, I know he's trouble. And I am so right about this one.
Because before the day's up, I wind up in the principal's office with a peeved principal who's trying to call Den in.
Things can only get crazier.
A/N: Well this is my first attempt at doing a story from a first person point of view! I mean, it's my first fanfic in first person. (: I hope you'd like it xD
Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya