Chapter Four – Whispered introductions
The read-through of Macbeth had gone surprisingly well, apart from a few glares from the Head when a boy stumbled over his complicated lines, or got the rhythm a little off. But all-in-all, Alfred decided it was a successful scene.
"Now, I need to go and take care of a few things, so while I'm gone I want you to begin an essay on this scene. I need you to tell me what happened in your own words, and how Macduff reacts when finding out the news of his slaughtered family. I want this essay on my desk bright and early tomorrow morning. Failing that there will be consequences, but be warned, I will be passing this class quite a bit on my travels, so if I hear even a noise from this room you're all in automatic detentions. Is that understood?"
The class all sheepishly nodded in reply to the Head's corporal-like instructions. With a curt turn, and a clearing of his throat, the Head finally strode out of the ajar door, and everyone shared a silent gasp of relief.
"Bloody hell, he's too intense…" Arthur muttered from the front of the class, only to be glared at by a number of surrounding students.
"Shut up, you British eyesore!" A French accent hissed, "I am not staying in a detention because of you!"
"Look who's talking now! You're the one replying!" Arthur childishly spat back.
"Both of you shut the fuck up!" The mean-looking Italian sitting next to Arthur interjected.
There was silence for a few minutes, a few rustles of paper, and the class finally settled down, scribbling on their paper, all full to the brim of boring Shakespeare and his stories of war.
Deciding it would be safe to talk in a very, very low whisper (it wasn't like no one else was doing it – the room was full of hissed conversations) Alfred decided to turn to Feliciano for a bit of guidance, though not on the work.
"So, can you show me who everyone is?" He muttered between writing words.
"Sure~!" Feliciano replied in an enthusiastic whisper, "The one next to Arthur is my big brother, Lovino~ he can be mean sometimes, but he's a nice guy deep down~ he's in year nine~"
"Next to him is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo… His relationship with Lovino is quite complex to say the least…" Ludwig had decided to join the conversation, "no one really knows where they stand – one minute they're dating, and the next Antonio is crying his eyes out to Gilbert about how he was brutally dumped by Lovino."
Alfred scanned the room for any indication of who Gilbert was, when he found none, Matthew helpfully pointed out the kid, "That's him – never wears his uniform right and somehow gets away with it. He's also in year nine with Antonio." The Canadian had pointed to a tall albino, slouched over his paper, tongue sticking out. Matthew was right – you could barely tell Gilbert was in uniform – covering his purple blazer he'd thrown on a red zip-up hoodie that matched the blood-red of his eyes. His shirt was undone, revealing a loose plain black t-shirt and a cross-necklace that looked scarily like the German Cross from World War One. He didn't look like the friendliest guy in the world…
"The French one who was cursing at Arthur is Francis," Matthew continued, pointing at a blonde boy who looked very, very gay. Though surprisingly handsome, Alfred had to admit. He had obviously spent a lot of time plucking his eyebrows and shaving his little stubble. Hell, maybe even straightening his hair, but it did make him look good. His shirt was undone so low you could see the beginnings of a muscular-looking chest, and all thoughts of a tie had been abandoned, "He's a year nine too… Watch out when he's around Gilbert and Antonio, it's never fun when you've got the three of them eyeing you up." Matthew warned.
"That there is Peter Kirkland – year seven." Kiku whispered in a low tone, the groups eyes flicking to the other side of the room where a young blonde boy was writing as fast as he could, as the two Asian boys next to him watched with amused expressions "With him are Kaoru Li and Im Yong Soo… They're quite… odd."
"Wait, Kirkland? Like related to Arthur?" Alfred blinked, obviously a little confused, "He has brothers?"
Ludwig shook his head, "Arthur's family is a little… complicated. Full of divorces and re-marries. I know he has five half-brothers in this school. Peter being one of them… The others are quite different…"
Ludwig then pointed at two red-headed gangling idiotic-looking, grinning twins, "Colin and Shane Kirkland, the Irish twins that are the soul mayhem of Year Nine. I'd watch out for them if I were you, they'll probably pull more than one prank on you. But it's easy to get them to shut up – you just have to make some comment about twincest and they'll be as statues." Ludwig grinned, obviously remembering a triumphant moment in his mind.
"There's the last of the Kirklands," Kiku whispered, pointing at one very rough looking, ginger one, and a kind, smaller, sandy haired one, "Alastair and Owain, both in year eight. Alastair's dad's from Scotland, while Owain's dad is from Wales. The Twin's dad was from Ireland, and while Arthur and Peter, the youngest, have different dads – both from England."
"That's hella complicated, man." Alfred muttered.
"Yeah, I wouldn't mention it to Arthur if I were you – he always gets all uptight and accuses you of calling his mum a slut or something." Matthew muttered, "He really doesn't like that."
"Hmm… I can imagine…" Alfred muttered, eyeing Arthur before returning to his early stages of the essay.
The five boys worked in silence along with the rest of the class for ten minutes or so, though most of the time Alfred was chewing on his pen lid, wondering what to write. Just as he posed his hand ready to write the words that were finally forming in his head, the bell rang and the Head walked back in, right on time.
"Okay, okay, class dismissed. Remember – five hundred words tomorrow, on my desk or there'll be consequences. Now get to your lessons." He shooed the teenage boys out of the door, returning to his desk at the front as the class flocked out in a wave-like fashion.
Alfred's second lesson was music, and it seemed that most of the people from his English class also had that lesson (maybe that's why Kiku had no problem at all memorising other people's timetables – they were all the same!) the American entered the same time as the rest of his classmates, and flung himself on to a seat next to Matthew by a large, complicated-looking keyboard. The class must've been in one of the other music rooms Ludwig had mentioned the other day, as it was themed around a selection of blues, ranging from soft sky blues to bold, rich royal blues. On the whole it was quite a relaxing colour scheme, Alfred thought.
"Welcome, everyone…" The teacher stood up from his piano stool, obviously a little miffed that we wasn't able to continue writing on a complicated selection of manuscript paper all strewn out on the top of a grand piano, "I'll just do the register and we'll get started. Jordan… Simon… Oscar…" The long list of boys names were continually called out as the owner called out in answer.
It turned out that the teacher, Mr Roderich Edelstein had quite a lot planned out for the boys in only an hour's worth of lesson. The class were going to be split up into random groups of five each, and by the end of the lesson, each group were to perform a simple group ensemble, (why not just call it a group performance? Alfred didn't get why Italian was the language of music…) from scratch. He was asking them to compose a five-piece performance in less than forty-five minutes! He might be the next Mozart, but that didn't make his students some sort of mini Beethoven either.
As it turned out, Alfred had been chucked in a group of boys he didn't know. There was a year seven, Aaron, a boy Alfred hadn't been introduced to, Gilbert and Antonio from year nine (Antonio was sending longing glances over to Feliciano's group who had Lovino and Francis in their member list too, and complaining to his albino friend how it wasn't fair that Francis got to spend time with two cute Italians) and finally in the group was Owain, who was smiling at Alfred encouragingly.
"Hi, I heard you're my brother's roommate?" the blonde smiled, outstretching a hand, "Bore da, I'm Owain Kirkland."
"'Bore da'? What language is that, man?" Alfred blinked stupidly, distracted by the foreign greeting.
Owain blushed, slapping a hand over his mouth, "Ah! Sorry, I continuously forget I'm speaking Welsh… I don't even know I'm doing it! Sorry! I mean good morning!" He smiled weakly.
"Oh! Welsh! Like that little country next to England?" Alfred grinned, shaking the outstretched hand.
"Yup, that's the place!" Owain beamed at the mention of his home country, "Man, I miss it…"
Alfred nodded in empathic agreement, "I know the feeling all too well."
"I don't know about you pair, but I sure as hell don't want to be on the end of Roderich's pissed off attitude, so, as boring as it may be can we get the fuck on with this ensemble?" Gilbert sauntered over, Antonio at his side, the two completely ignoring the little year seven behind them.
So, that is exactly what the group did. Owain clambered behind an expensive looking harp, plucking a few of the strings and creating a soft sounding accompaniment. Antonio happily added in some contrasting tones on his electric guitar, Gilbert confidently strumming out a bass line on a menacing-looking electric bass that was plugged into a monster amp. That left Alfred to come up with a cute little tune to add on top of the texture of instruments with his beloved acoustic. Even Aaron played his part, harmonising Alfred's improvised melody on his clarinet. All in all, at the end of the forty-five minutes they'd been given, the five of them seemed pretty chuffed with their work.
Their group hadn't been the best of course – Arthur, Colin, Shane, Kaoru and Ludwig. The weird combination of Arthur's piano, the twins' violins, Kaoru's flute and Ludwig's trumpet all seemed to fit together, and their performance stunned even Mr. Edelstein. Why did that Brit have to be good at everything he did?
Class was dismissed once again, and morning break time swung around. Half an hour to chill before they started the two hours of class before lunch. Alfred's stomach was calling, so while Feliciano, Ludwig and Kiku ran off to one of the many fields to enjoy the rare sun, Alfred caught up with Matthew, and wondered in the direction of the canteen with the Canadian.
"So, are you enjoying your first day so far?" Matthew smiled, keeping a tight hold of the teddy bear Alfred had noticed he always kept with him.
"Well, it's a bit weird like – I mean sharing classes with the year sevens and nines… Don't you get taught the same stuff three times then?" Alfred pointed out in a rare moment of logic.
Matthew shook his head, smiling, "No; they don't repeat any lessons, and often in subjects like maths, the teacher gives each year a different set of work. I mean there're less than one hundred and fifty kids here – it's a teeny school!"
The American nodded enthusiastically, "No kidding! I must've passed the same people, what, ten times so far? I remember my first year back in America, 6th grade – I kept on passing a new face every day! There must've been at least three thousand kids there! I guess it's kinda nice knowing everyone though, it makes it feel more… homely?"
"Yeah, I think that's what they were aiming for when they set this place up. They only let certain people in here, you're pretty lucky y'know?" Matthew turned, and grabbed Alfred's sleeve, dragging him through the canteen doors, "I'm starving though! And I'm not kidding; they make the best pancakes here."
Glad that his new friend agreed on the opinion of food, Alfred more than happily slipped into a small queue behind the Canadian in the canteen. The place it's self was pretty small, but looked an awful lot more well looked after than your average school canteen. It looked like it'd never seen a food fight, for God's sake! That'll have to change in the next four years I'm here… Alfred thought mischievously to himself, and then realized when Matthew nudged him that he was being served.
After making a random order of some sort of cookie, the American threw himself and his bag down on a table, Matthew sitting opposite him, already tucking into his syrup-coated pancakes. Alfred nibbled on his cookie, and found, though it wasn't the best cookie he'd ever eaten, his stomach had digested worse, so he continued to eat it.
"Good?" Matthew smiled, downing another pancake.
Alfred grimaced tilting his head from side to side, "Meh… could be better, but edible. Is all the food like this?"
Swallowing and re-loading his fork, Matthew nodded, "Yeah – at first everyone's pretty much gagging, some people even go out to town and buy their own food at weekends. But most people get used to it after a year or so. Avoid the scones on your life. They're deadly. Literally. But let's not go there right now!" Matthew giggled nervously, "Yeah, the only things they can make are pancakes and the occasional pie or two. You got off lucky with that cookie you know! It seems the only people that eat here and enjoy the food are the Kirklands – hell with their attitude you'd think they thought this was a five star restaurant or something!" Matthew giggled to himself, "Look!"
The Canadian nodded over to a nearby table where the tall, ginger rough looking boy - Alfred seemed to remember his name being Alastair - was drinking a hot substance from a flask at an alarming rate; Alfred could only hope and assume it was tea. Opposite the Scottish boy was Owain, who was nibbling daintily on the corner of something that seemed to resemble a scone, but looked a little too… flat and raisin-y. Sharing the table with the two were the twins, who were poking at a mars bar, looking like they were planning on cutting it in half. But all of them indeed did have rather conceited expressions like the food didn't bother them at all – and as Matthew had said, like they were enjoying it!
"Everyone has a different theory on why they like it – most reckon it's because they're British…" Matthew nodded knowingly.
Before Alfred could reply, a big booming voice beat him to it, "Mattie! Who's your new friend?"
The pair turned around, and met the chocolate-colourer eyes of a tanned, very vast student that Alfred hadn't seen before. The teenager in front of them was just big full stop. He looked just as muscle-y as he did overweight, and was very tall at the same time. He sort of disobeyed every rule out there – how can someone be fat and covered in muscles? His hair was tied back in scruffy dreadlocks, and he'd adapted his uniform so it was simply a short sleeved shirt, and turned the legs of the trousers up, pinning them in place to look like makeshift shorts.
"Carlos! I didn't see you, sorry!" Matthew grinned, and then introduced the two, "Alfred, this is Carlos! He's my best friend, though it's a bit awkward, because he's in year eleven, so I don't get to share any classes with him. And Carlos, this is Alfred Jones, he's just moved here from America."
"America, hmm?" Carlos narrowed his eyes, his friendly smile from before disappearing instantly, "Well, whatever, nice too meet you, I s'pose."
And with that, he simply left.
"Did I do something?" Alfred wondered aloud to Matthew, who had an awkward, apologetic smile on his face.
"No, no! You didn't do anything, it's just Carlos isn't too… fond of Americans…" Matthew tried to phrase the sentence diplomatically.
Alfred raised an eyebrow, grinning, "No kidding! But hey, you can't be liked by everyone, right?" That was rich, coming from an American who previously stated that he didn't know anyone who could hate him after a week of knowing him…
The last four lessons passed quietly – nothing out of the ordinary happened. In maths they were taught the quadratic formula, and told to know it off by heart for next lesson. Science, Gilbert almost blew the whole class up by throwing a substantial lump of potassium in water, creating a pretty purple firework show that Professor Wang, the science teacher, most defiantly didn't appreciate. Lunch came and went in the blink of an eye, where Alfred, Ludwig, Kiku, Matthew, Feliciano and for some reason Owain decided to sit on their field together, sharing sandwiches and turning their lunchtime into a large picnic. Drama and Art were equally simple, apart from Francis flirting with their drama teacher, and Alastair announcing he'd paint the whole school blue and white in art.
All in all, Alfred had quite enjoyed his first day at Goverek boarding school!
More than that even – the next four days passed in a flash – Alfred could barely remember sleeping in between the days. Everything was still so new and big! There wasn't a day when something new didn't happen – either Lovino was swearing at Antonio and Francis, or Arthur was throwing things at him in the dorm room, or Carlos was muttering threats of hatred when passing him in the corridors. Despite all this, Alfred was having a great time, he decided.
Not only that, but he seemed to have kept up his friend-making habit. By last lesson on Friday, Alfred doubted there was anyone in the school that didn't know his name – student and teacher alike. Most people had warmed up to him like a moth to a light, while others, like Francis, Arthur and Carlos, found him an obnoxious American idiot. But you can't please them all! Owain especially had become quite close with Alfred at the end of the week, and the little Welsh boy and the American were getting along like they'd known each other for years. Though Alfred wasn't too sure who he'd class his best friend to be – everyone he was friends with seemed to have their own best friends. Owain was always around Alastair and Toris; a year eight Lithuanian who didn't share any classes with Alfred – Feliciano had Ludwig, Kiku and Lovino, and Matthew had Carlos, and oddly enough Alfred found that he was also pretty friendly with Gilbert and Francis – or rather Gilbert and Francis were rather friendly with the poor Canadian.
Alfred had no choice – he'd have to find a best friend who could call him a best friend back! And the American, being the awesome hero that he was had just the person in mind. Sadly, this person was very proud, and didn't seem to want to make friends with anyone. Arthur Kirkland, of course.
Operation – convince-Arthur-that-Americans-can-be-friends-with-British-people: START.
A/N
So we're finally moving the storyline along! :D I know everyone knows what Francis and the others look like, and how they wear their uniforms (I'm writing this how most people draw them in Gakuen Hetalia fanart XD) but I thought, seeing as this is kinda from Alfred's view, and he's never seen these odd Europeans before, they deserve a description XD
I hope you don't mind too much about Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Southern Ireland either ^^" I know they're /sort of/ OCs, I mean everyone has a different view on them, no? But I do bloody love them, and I plan for them to have a pretty major role in this (not main, but a main side character if that makes sense…? Well, Wales might be a main chara XD)
Oh! And just to clear it up (also in age order~)
Scotland – Alastair Kirkland (Weird spelling, I know XD He had to repeat a year of school, and he should be in the same year as the twins XD he's a rebel!)
N. Ireland – Colin – Older and more sensible of the twins :)
S. Ireland – Shane – The mischievous one! :D
Wales – Owain – the caring one XD he worries too much XD
So yes~ if they get too annoying just tell me and I'll try and ease up on them XD
So yes! Thank you very much if you reviewed, favourited or followed ^^ love you lots! (especially those who took time to review – you're bloody amazing ^^)
Next chapter… Tomorrow? I don't know X'D depends how I feel~
I hope you enjoyed reading~! Thank you very much~