*It's so weird I'm writing this chapter today! It's about Carnevale and while I was helping clean the things under my mom's bed, I found a Carnevale mask! It was a cheap one, and I swear, it looked like Satan! It was red with a pointy nose and it freaked me out! XD My dad has better ones from Venezia, like a porcelain one that covers the top half of your face with a joker hat. I'm so jealous! He's been to Italy so many times in the Air Force!

And I'm not sure if I mentioned Bella's parents' names before. But the ones said in this chapter will be their official names in case I did.*

I twirled around in my T-dress, letting it fly around my legs. The purple trim around the gold made me look beautiful. (Not to be arrogant or anything.) The dress bore my shoulders and the bell sleeves stopped a bit before my wrists.

I had a symbol for all my country friends: an Iron Cross holding my hair back from Germany; a red and white sash tied around my waist with a big star on my hip for both Italy and America; a red, white, and blue bracelet for France; a snowflake necklace for Russia; black and white heels for China (like his panda bear); a sun broach for Japan; and a red, white, and blue rose for Britain on my bracelet.

"Aren't you coming?" I asked Romano.

"Carnevale is more of a North Italian thing," he shrugged. "I'd rather just stay home."

"Oh," I sighed. "Well, Britain and America said they'd come pick me up. And they're outside waiting. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," he grunted. I kissed him on the cheek, grabbed my mask from the coffee table, and ran out the door. Before I left, I caught him smiling at me. I hurried to the car and hopped inside, sliding in next to Britain.

"Hello!" I greeted sweetly. I looked over my shoulder to America in the backseat. "Hi!"

"Hey," he replied, giving a short wave. "Let's hurry up. I'm only staying to see a little bit of this Carnival thing."

"Carnevale," I corrected. "Are you staying, Britain?"

"Well, I'm America's ride, so I suppose," he huffed. "But we've got to start getting there or we'll be late."

He pulled the car into the empty street and started driving. A car suddenly sped past us, steering around us and honking their horn, surprising the countries.

"Whoa!" America poked his head out the window, staring at the vehicle in awe.

"He's driving on the wrong side of the road," Britain groaned.

"No, he's not," I retorted. "You are. I know it seems wrong to you, but Italians drive on the right side of the road. But they may drive in the middle if they're the only ones. In Rome, however, none of the rules apply." I smirked. "Just don't die. Now, put the petal to the metal!"

I slammed my foot down on his and he yelped in pain, fighting for control or the car. America and I were laughing manically as we shot down the pavement. (I know, I've been in Italy too long.)

"Sh-Should we really be going this fast?" Britain stammered.

"This. Is. AWESOME!" America shouted, pumping his fist. "Remind to come to Italy more often!"

"I would say, 'Ditto,' but I already live here!" I turned around and slapped him a high-five. "Having fun, Britain?"

"No!" he groaned. "There was an inch – an inch – of space and someone got in between me and the car in front of me. Italians!"

"Look! There's the party!" I clutched his shoulder and he hit the brake. I couldn't tell if he was pale with fear or green with nausea. "C'mon, America! We're gonna get a spot in the crowd!"

I jumped out of the car and America followed me. Britain slowly drove off to park the car and I dragged my country off into the sea of people. I peeked over their heads (which wasn't hard since I was pretty tall compared to them) and caught strangely-dressed women and men walking down a catwalk.

"Oh, no!" I gasped. "Everyone else has a partner! What do I do?"

"Just go up by yourself," America shrugged obliviously. "It'll be fine."

I was about to protest, but I felt a hand tap on my shoulder. A boy, probably around my age, bowed slightly to me. I couldn't see who it was because his face was covered in a porcelain mask with golden paint around the eyes and cheeks. It was very similar to mine, although mine only covered half my face. He wore a big purple hat with pink feathers and wolf ears. His outfit reminded me of a joker's with its ruffles and pink and blue checkered pattern on his jacket. He took my hand and pointed at the catwalk.

"Non hai partner?" he asked in Italian.

"What's he say?" America asked.

"He asked if I don't have a partner," I replied. "Um, no, non ho partner."

He tilted his head and I could tell he was smiling. He gestured to the catwalk, nodding. I suppose he didn't speak anymore because he could tell I wasn't fluent in Italian. (I still had my American accent, after all.) I took his hand, and followed him, hearing America wishing me good luck in the cheers of the crowd.

"Err, come ti chiama?"

"Mi chiamo Paulo."

"Bella," I replied. I decided to take shot at it: "Do you speak English?"

"Not much," he answered reluctantly in a heavy accent. "My father taught me."

"Ah." My dress trailed behind me as I stepped up the stairs onto the catwalk. I put my mask on and clasped Paulo's hand. "I'm a little nervous."

"Nervous?" he repeated. "You are scared?"

"Yeah," I muttered, shuffling closer to him. "I've never been in front of a crowd before. But all I have to do is walk down, turn around, and walk back. Nothing to it."

We stood patiently for our turn. In the meantime, Paulo decided to make small-talk.

"Are you from America?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered as a couple in wild green outfits strode past. "I'm from New Jersey. My mom grew up here in Italy, though."

"So you are Italian?" he asked, his interest level rising.

"Half," I shrugged. "My dad was born in Germany."

"It's our turn, Bella," he said after a moment, squeezing my hand. I nodded and reluctantly took a step forward in sync with Paulo.

What if I trip?! I thought. What if I say something stupid? Don't say anything! Where's America? Did America ditch me?! Oh, never mind, there he is. Should I wave? No, just smile. Wait, Paulo's looking at me. Why is he looking at me?! Don't freak out, it was just a glance. Okay, I'm at the end. Strike a pose. Should I? Paulo is. Sort of. Okay, hand on the hip, sassy-ness, etc. Well, America's giving me the thumbs-up, so I must've done good. There's Britain! Hiiiiii, Britain! Turn around, strut back.

I took a breath as I strutted back down the catwalk, reaching the end. I hopped down the stairs and removed my mask. Paulo followed me and laughed as I clutched his shoulder for support.

"I did it!" I gasped. "I really did it!"

Paulo took off his own mask and I nearly fell over. He was…perfect. Perfectly perfect. Perfectly tanned skin, sparkling blue eyes, and a nice smile. He took off his hat and his wavy black hair came loose.

"You aren't too bad-looking yourself," he chuckled. I noticed I was gaping and shut my mouth, embarrassed. "Now, I'll leave you here."

"Hey, wait," I stopped him. "What else are you?"

He cocked his head.

"You've got blue eyes," I continued. "Italians don't usually have that. Their eyes are usually dark."

He smirked. "I'm half-German on my father's side as well. I hope you don't mind me asking, but what is your father's name?"

I paused in suspicion before answering, "Kai."

"Kai, eh?" he chuckled. "And would your mother's name be Lucia?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Yes. How'd you know that?"

A look of shock crossed his face. "That's my mother's name. I went to live with my aunt since birth, so I never knew her. I lived with my father when I was eight and he taught me English."

"My dad left when I was eight…" I stared at him. "That's weird."

Paulo grinned all of a sudden. "Could it be?!"

I flinched at his sudden happiness. I was just weirded out. "What?"

"I remember my father he told me…" His voice trailed off as he grabbed my hands and held them in his own. "He told me I had a sister! Named Bella!"

"What?!" That was impossible! I was from the future! This guy…he was from the past! There was no way… But then I caught sight of a black choker he was wearing with a strange flower.

"It's a white clover," he told me, catching me staring. "It means, 'think of me.'"

Reality hit me. "You're a deliverer."

He laughed joyfully, his eyes wide in amazement like a child. "You noticed! How did you know? Are you one too?" He glanced at my snowflake necklace.

"No, but my friend is," I replied. "Listen, we aren't siblings. No one's ever told me about you. Ever. So you've got the wrong girl."

Paulo frowned. "But-"

"No buts!" I ripped my hands away from his. "Sorry, but I'm an only child. I have to go."

I ran away as fast as I could, ignoring the hand Paulo was reaching out to me. I halted in front of America and Britain.

"Is something wrong?" Britain asked, seeing my expression. I shook my head.

"Just take me home," I snapped. I realized how rude I sounded and sagged my shoulders. "Sorry. I just…ran into someone."

"…C'mon, we'll take you home," America said, putting his arm around me. I leaned against him. He stuck his tongue out at Britain. "And I'm driving this time!"

"Whatever," Britain huffed. "Just don't kill us."

I offered them a smile and they led me towards the car.

*One of my favorite chapters to write! It introduces Paulo, who is named after a cousin in Italy who used to come visit when I was little. He lives in Rome and works in the film industry. Hiiiii, Paulooo!

Romano: A relative of yours lives in Rome?

Well, most of my relatives like somewhere near there. In the Lazio region, at least.

Romano: B( Remind me to kick them out later.

NOOOOOO, PAULOOOOO! D:

K bye.*