Chapter Seven: Ćerima – Flashbacks
I did not even try sleeping that Saturday night. My mind was too busy with the recent events to let me do anything more than stare at the ceiling for hours at a time. Eventually I just closed my bedroom door, turned on a flashlight, and grabbed my battered list book from my desk. Yes, I had a list book, which at the moment was filled with everything that had happened over the past two weeks. The papers from before had long since been reduced to ashes. Holding the flashlight with one hand, I flipped through the book with the other, images flashing through my mind with each line of text.
America/ice cream. I had yet to decide how to get the annoying American to redeem himself for his extremely rude gesture.
Romano. At least he eventually agreed to the "no cursing" rule. Mostly.
Prussia. No explanation necessary.
England. I briefly wondered where he was sleeping, and if he would rather take the bed that I was not using. I quickly shook the thoughts away and scanned through the following words.
Russia.
Lara losing her job…
…and finding another one. I had written a note beside this line to keep watch on Lara when around sharp objects. Russia had told me what she had admitted to him that night – not because I asked, but because I was the oldest of the three of us and he thought I deserved to know. It made me wonder if Maria was hiding something as well.
France.
Mr. McDonald's visit. It seemed as though I was the only one of us who bothered to give our landlord at least a little bit of respect anymore. But after that night's visit, I started asking myself if he even deserved it… I shuddered at the memory of his furious cries echoing through the apartment and the burning odor of alcohol on his breath. At least he was too drunk to bother threatening us. Except for out utilities, of course.
Electricity cut. No surprise there.
Prussia injured. I was not completely sure what Calvin had done to Prussia, but I did not see blood, so I assumed he would be okay.
From there my mind drifted, clouds of half-sensible thoughts drifting through my brain, my eyes staring blankly at the wall in front of me. It was hard to say exactly what I felt in those moments, but the only emotion I could really comprehend was fear. I only regained my senses when pale gray light sneaked into the room around the shade of my window, signaling the presence of the new day ahead. I forced back a yawn as I quickly changed into street clothes and slipped out the door to scavenge breakfast for nine.
After all, who needs sleep?
-x-
Even as I placed our breakfast – Taco Bell – on the kitchen table and took a quick shower, no one else woke up. That made sense, though, since so much had happened the day before. Romano was muttering something about tomatoes, England was asleep sitting by my bedroom door, and I do not think that Prussia had moved a muscle since he fell unconscious. Everything was dark, so I could hardly tell.
Just stay calm, I told myself as I pulled on the best clothes I had, anxiety pooling in my mind. Against my better judgment, I decided to speak with Calvin again to try and get back our electricity. It was probably a bad idea to try, but it could not hurt to try, right? That was what I told myself, but it did not take me too long to doubt it.
Five minutes later, I was standing outside the door to Calvin's office, staring at the scratched bronze nameplate reading Landlord. I could hear a sound coming from inside, something that sounded like snoring, but it ceased when I reached forward and rapped my knuckles on the door. "Mr. McDonald?"
"– wasn't me! Huh?" The words were slurred together in the way only alcohol could produce. The only emotion I could sense in them was surprise, then anger. "Whaddya want?"
I forced myself not to flinch back, straightening the collar of my dress shirt instead. "…Ćerima Zivkovic, sir. From 4C. I wanted to talk to you about something."
An annoyed mumble; then the door swung open, and I could finally see Calvin collapse into his chair across the darkened room. He looked awful, with his face flushed, clouded eyes, and dark bags beneath them. His clothes were wrinkled too, like he had slept in them. The whole place smelled of beer and old cigarettes, and it took my entire strength not to run back to the apartment.
Calvin started the conversation with a glare and four words tat I have heard too many times from the same man. "I don't like you."
Yes, I know. No need to remind me.
"I never liked you," he continued, rubbing his temples like that would make me go away, "not you or your little friends. You already know why I let you stay at first. You were never much trouble until you got older." He spat the word like it was an infectious disease. "I had to keep Child Services off your back, but that's nothing. Now I have to put up with our loud parties and your weird German friends –"
"Parties?" I could not hide the shock from my voice. He must be talking about the nations… "Sir, we have not –"
"Stuff it, you! Don't play dumb with me. People have been complaining for the past two weeks! Not to mention one of your friends attacked me last night. Drunk, tried stealing my wallet." He popped a couple painkillers and downed them with a bit of water from a plastic bottle, then threw the empty bottle behind him. "Explain that."
I held my tongue. I knew the truth, and I know Maria did too, but crossing him was not a good idea for getting our electricity back. "Sir, h-he is just visiting from his school." I strained my mind for the one Gakuen Hetalia mistranslation I have seen. "…Dublin Academy. An international school. It will only be for a week longer, until their break is over…" My explanation made little sense, since it was only October, but luckily Calvin did not seem to be listening by then.
He only ran a hand through his greasy, graying brown hair, his plain gray eyes closed. He looked like a time bomb ready to explode. "I don't care. I don't freaking care! Just hear this: this is strike two. You got that? One more strike and I'm throwing you out!" He shooed me out of the room by propping his feet on the edge of the desk. "And you're not getting your electricity back. Your water bill went up, and you gave just enough to pay for it. No money, no electricity!" And he slammed the door in my face.
As I trudged up the stairs, I went over his words in my mind. He only told me what I already knew. How is that supposed to help? …On second thought, why would he help us? He always hated us for our age. Why would that change now?
Three odd things happened when I walked into our apartment. First, a lukewarm quesadilla slapped me in the face, rendering me blind. In my attempts to rip it off my face, I stepped on something that made a tiny crack under my foot. By the time I realized it was there, I was already scrambling backward, freezing when I stumbled and hit the arm of the couch. I sat still for a moment, dazed, before ripping the Mexican food off my face and scanning the room for its source. My sisters and the six nations were seated around the kitchen table, most pointing at America, America himself pointing simultaneously at England and Lara. Meanwhile, a rather short Asian man was kneeling in front of the couch with our bathroom mirror resting at his knees, the top corner cracked almost all the way through the glass. The man was staring at me with bewildered brown eyes that would have looked more appropriate on a dead fish. He muttered something in Japanese before apologizing heavily in English, offering me a hand.
Ah yes, just another normal day.
"Japan came while you were gone," Maria supplied, her mouth half-full. "He wanted to check out the mirror."
The Asian man – Japan – nodded as I picked myself up from the ground and stood, cradling the quesadilla in one hand and shaking his with the other. He bowed respectfully when he broke his hand away. "So you are Ćerima-san. Lara-chan and Maria-chan have told me much about you…although I expected you to be a bit older."
"Much about me?" I was not gone that long… "Yes, that is me." I tossed the quesadilla back at America before glancing back at the mirror. "What is your interest in the mirror?"
Japan returned to his kneeling position and examined the mirror's new crack. "You see, I had been standing near a mirror similar to this one when I was transported here. It seems that we all were, in one way or another. And something is surrounding this one in particular, an unusual aura of magic."
"Wait a minute," Lara interjected. "Are you trying to tell us that our bathroom mirror is haunted or something? You can keep it if it's cursed."
"It's not cursed." England was quick to correct Lara's outrageous statement. "That would imply an evil being or a cruel purpose. It's most likely enchanted."
"Enchanted by moi, I'm sure! Ohonhonhon~"
"Oh shut it, frog!"
And thus, the daily argument began. I tried tuning it out and instead focused on my reflection in the mirror. Blonde hair falling around my face, blue eyes dim from lack of sleep. I was surprised that no one had mentioned how tired I looked. It was too early to go out to the fire escape, but I was already stretched to the limit. I suddenly remembered an old tradition I did with my mother, one I hardly kept anymore. Maybe it is about time to start again. After all, I do know where the matches are.
No one has to know.
-x-
A humid summer wind passed through the grimy maze of skyscrapers that formed the city of New York, touching each building's exterior before slipping across the black metal stairs hanging from the side of an especially dingy apartment building. A dark shadow squatted over something on the fourth floor landing; the shadow was actually a young girl, one with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, not even the age of fourteen. In one hand she held a ceramic jar stuffed full of faded-up papers. She remembered every word she wrote on them.
Mama's death.
Dad running out.
Maria losing her book.
Mean Mr. McDonald.
Loneliness.
Growing up too fast.
Each paper had something written on it that the girl hated with all her heart. She knew that she couldn't control any of it, but it felt nice to try and get rid of her sorrows one way or another. It always worked when Mama was here. Grabbing a match from the ground beside her, she struck it against the jar, watching the flame dance in the darkened night. It nearly disappeared when she tossed it into the jar, but it sprang to life again once it was introduced to the papers lining the bottom. She watched them burn, entranced by the flickering orange light, calmed by its radiating familiarity, until it disappeared amidst a pile of black ashes.
"…Ćer?"
The girl glanced up and turned to the voice behind her. A single figure stood in the threshold of the fire escape: a short girl with light brown hair and hazel eyes, cradling a book in her hands. She looked tired, which made sense, considering it was nearly midnight.
"Lara said you came out here," the girl continued around a yawn. "What are you doing?"
The blonde smiled faintly, standing beside her friend and ushering her inside. "Nothing, nothing. Come on, Maria. We need to sleep well tonight." She walked inside after the brunette, touching the jar with the toe of her shoe. She listened to it smash onto the concrete below.
The ashes would be gone by morning.
A/N: Apologies for the depressing-ness. Kinda. ~Random-san
