'Shot,' a kid yelled, racing past Gilbert and his brother, 'Arthur! NEWBIES!' Almost immediately, there were at least six kids from the "Junior-Senior" block surrounding them. The kid who'd yelled stood at the front. He had blond hair, blue eyes framed by glasses, and he was wearing an old brown bomber jacket. His voice was obnoxiously loud, and he was definitely the son of one the American diplomats allowed in the Castle.
'Hi!' he said, cheerfully, 'I'm Alfred! And that's Arthur, Tino, Berwald and Yao and Kiku! They're my friends… most of the time. We fight a lot.' It seemed to Gilbert that they'd never shut up. And then they caught his eye. The two of them seemed… quiet. He peeled away from Alfred and Co, heading toward the two boys sulking on the outskirts of the crowd. Ludwig was hogging the attention anyway, he could escape no problem.
They were a similar height, but that's where the similarities ended. One was dark-haired, green-eyed, while the other was blue eyed and blond, like Ludwig, though his hair was shoulder length, and quite perfumed. The dark one was wearing a bright red t-shirt with a guitar on it that made his honey skin glow, and a pair of dark jeans. The blond one wore a blue woolen suit. He had a rose pinned to his lapel.
'Cool rose,' Gilbert said, 'and I like your t-shirt's design.' He pointed to each boy.
'Oh, hi,' the green eyed one said. 'Say hi, Francis…'
'Hi, Francis,' the blond haired one said. 'No, seriously… hi, newbie.'
'I'm Gilbert,' Gilbert said, 'you're Francis, obviously, and you must be…'
'Antonio Carriedo,' Antonio said, 'and his last name's Bonnefoy.' Gilbert shook Antonio's hand, and Francis's.
'You don't sound American,' Francis said, 'but it takes… all sorts, I guess. And we've only ever lived here, in NY…'
Gilbert laughed, 'I'm GERMAN. Well, Prussian, actually, but my Mum's American.'
'Oh, right, that'd explain the accent,' Antonio grinned, 'welcome to the European club. There's a few of us, but we're the only ones WITHOUT American roots. I'm Spanish, duh, and Francis is French.' Gilbert nodded, and the three boys chatted for a little while. Until the mechanical bell like a kitchen timer went off.
'Fran, we'll be late for Music,' Antonio said, 'what've you got first, Gilbert?' Gilbert checked his schedule.
8.30- Music
'Music,' he said, grinning, 'so I'll see you in class, right?' Gilbert wasn't trying to sound needy, but really, Gilbert didn't care, he needed friends….