We're all told to sit by the nations we're closest in the big conference room with it's huge round table. I sit between Alfred and Al, as Alfred motions me to. Arthur stops a second to look at the three of us.

"Goodness, you three look nearly exactly alike. It's rather strange, seeing you sitting like that."

I don't think I look anything like Al. Fer one, I'm white and I don't think he is. Fer two, he's got dark hair and red eyes, and I'm blond and blue eyed. Fer three, I ain't got holes and metal in my body anywhere. Although now that I'm close to him, I can see Al's got freckles just like Oliver, only made kinda faint by his dark skin. I guess we got that in common, havin' freckles.

Alfred and me look a bit more alike, which back when I glimpsed him as a kid struck me as odd. He's got the same hair color, and almost style as me, but his eyes are darker blue. He's also a bit taller than me. Al and me are about the same height, but he's skinnier. Probably from bein' a vegan and so not gettin' nothin' to eat ever.

Al smirks and puts his feet up on the table as he seems to like doin'. Alfred grins and laughs a little at Arthur's comment. I look at him over the rims of my glasses in a sorta "are you kiddin' me" look.

"Well, it's true. I'm not saying you three are actually anything alike, simply that you look it." Arthur says. Oliver appears behind him and grabs him into a hug. I can see how uncomfortable this is makin' him, but Oliver just says in his annoyin'ly cheerful voice,

"I think it's real cute how all three of them look alike! I bet they'd look nice all dressed the same, too!"

"Aww, come on, Ollie, we don't wanna do that!" Al finally complains to which Oliver starts talking about how much cuter and more obedient he was as a kid.

I pass the rest of the time starin' at Natasha and tryin' not to get caught. She does catch me at it, and I hope she don't come over to talk to me about it. Luckily she just smiles in her "I-know-you-like-me-silly-'Merican-boy" way. I look down at my notepage as the current speaker goes on and on. I start drawin' a circle on it, over and over. I'm pretty bored until Alfred stands up next to me and goes to the front.

"I recently got word from the FBI," he starts, "and the attacks were perpetrated by an Islamic extremist group from Iraq. My president has decided that this is plenty cause to go to war with Iraq and Afghanistan." He looks straight at this girl who can't be more'n sixteen, and who's wearin' a dark red headscarf with only a tuft of her black hair showin' in the front. She jumps up and says in her thick Middle-East accent,

"Glad you get what's coming to you, American swine! I will happily die to see you reap the consequences of your presence in my brother and sister's lands, and your helping Israel to attack us!"

I sorta try and be invisible 'cuz an angry woman ain't to be trifled with. A guy who looks about the same age as me, probably Afghanistan, pushes the girl down roughly and demands to know what Alfred's problem is, attackin' entire nations fer the actions of a few people. Soon ever'one is sidin' with or against Alfred, with most of us with him.

"Alright, ALRIGHT!" Shouts the German one, who I think must be the one who takes charge, "Alfred, sit down!" He does. "Isra! Miraj! Shut up!" They do and sink back to their seats, glarin' murder at us three Americans. Before the kraut can say another word, Iraq spits in our direction and says somethin' that sounds like "mo-kaseetzen ndelkafara!"

It must've been some insult 'cuz the others around her laugh and say things that sound like agreement. I really don't like it when the other nations talk their languages. I don't understand why they can't just learn English if they're gonna come here. I tell Alfred this and he shrugs and only says,

"Why should we expect countries that hate us now to speak our language?"

Well I don't like 'em neither, damn terrorists.

After the meeting, we drive back to the hotel and Alfred asks me if I wanna go to the pool with him. I say alright and Al asks if he can come along, and so we all head back to our rooms to get into our swimmin' clothes.

I wear some ratty camo-shorts I've had fer years. Alfred's got red-white-n'-blue trunks and Al's are just black with red trim on 'em. We're all wearin' T-shirts down to the place, and Alfred's got goggles held in one hand. When we get there, I see we ain't the only ones who wanted to go in the pool after the meeting. France and Arthur are there, and so is Gilbert, Antonio and Elise. And Natasha. She's there too. She's wearin' a dark blue one-piece, which really outlines her figure. I do my best not to stare.

Gilbert's back is pale, of course, but also horribly scarred in the way of someone who's been whipped over and over 'gain without the wounds bein' let to heal first. I try not to stare at that neither.

Al pulls off his shirt first, and I'm not really shocked to see he's tattooed all over his back. Alfred follows and I see he's wearin' dogtags. I do it to, and right away Al asks me,

"Woah, J.G., what happened to your back to scar you like that?"

I've got a bunch of thin, pinkish lines all across and up-and-down my back from when I was a kid at school and got whipped. It was so bad that the scars are still there a hundred years later. I don't tell them about Row and the awful, sinful things we did, and how Schoolmister saved me from Devil possession by beatin' it outta me. I don't even tell 'em when I happened to get it, I just say,

"Got whipped once. Hurt kinda bad. 'M okay now though."

"Ah. Growin' up in the South must've been rough on you, huh?" He says, thinkin' I bet, of the stereotypes of strict Southern families.

"Yeah. Somethin' like that." I say back.

And so, we all swim, then go get room-service supper, and from there to bed. Tomorrow, Alfred says, we're gonna go see the sights of New York, as it's custom fer whatever nation hosts a conference to show the others around.

Tomorrow, I'm gonna get up the nerve to talk to Natasha Arlovskaya-Braginski.