A/N: Hello everyone :D. First things first, sorry for the several months hiatus. The thing is, I had too many stories going on (still do), and since this fic had the least amount of responses, I had to drop it for some time.

I want to hear from you guys because it's what makes writing stories online fun :) Otherwise, I'll devote my attention elsewhere (like writing my own book woo, half way done!). Authors really like reviews, and it's awesome to see that people take the time to click the follow and favourite button. I'll never understand why people who have accounts don't at least follow stories. I always get so lost without the email alerts lmao. *insert ancient sponge bob blur meme*

Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. For those new here, I hope you do too! Many thanks to those who care about this story and support it, and to my Beta reader NebulaZee for polishing off the grammar mistakes my tired brain made at the late hours of the night. Especially to those who PM'd me during the hiatus. That was really too sweet for words.

All righty! To make things easier for you guys to read, I made each Kirkland brother's name correspond to the first letter of their country, save for Scotland.

Scotland: Alistair

Wales: William

Ireland: Isaac

Nolan: Northern Ireland

Happy reading~!

-Ella

I had fallen asleep in the car, exhausted and tuckered out from being repeatedly insulted by Lovino. A man, especially with a fragile ego like mine, could only withstand so much beratement, I'm afraid.

Alfred was the one driving, sitting cramped in the driver's seat and not looking very happy about his predicament. Since we were to pass as teenagers, Alfred's SUV wouldn't have sufficed as an appropriate ride. We needed to fit in, not stand out and arise suspicion.

Turns out that my pale blue mini-cooper was given the okay by our superiors, and thus this was the car that we would be using to get to and fro. Initially, Alfred wanted to rent out an old sportscar from the force's warehouse of impounded vehicles, but the vintage look was no longer in among teens these days. They liked cars that were small, cute, dainty, and most important of all, environment friendly; in other words, anything that wasn't a gas-guzzler like Alfred's precious 'Amelia.'

As of now, we were driving to the home where we would be residing for the duration of our undercover mission. I could only hope that the host parents were kind and non-intrusive. As you can see, I was still recovering from the trauma of my own childhood, one that was riddled with excessive bullying, put-downs, nuggies, filth, and spittle.

Speaking of which.

I opened my eyes groggily as Alfred began to slow the car. This neighborhood looked extremely familiar, now that I think of it. We were in the middle of suburbia:

I recognized the summer BBQ kits laying out on the pristinely cut ever-green lawns; the cobble-stone pathways that were long cracked and broken due to the shenanigans of clumsy children; the curtain-less windows for nosy neighbors to spy on each other…

We were in my old neighborhood. But why?

Alfred pulled the car to a stop, stretching his neck with a groan. "Remind me again why they make cars this small?" he complained. "Yikes! I'm so going to be sore from this in the morning!"

"Not every car is made for an oaf like you," I mumbled numbly, refusing to look to my left. We were idling outside of my childhood home. Maybe if I didn't look at my tormentor, he wouldn't dare to engage.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean they should make cars hobbit-sized either," Alfred snorted.

I didn't waste any energy on answering his retort. As expected, Alfred continued to make conversation, clueless to the fact that all colour had been drained from my face.

"So, this is where we'll be staying, huh? What's that word you Brits use? Oh yeah, posh! This neighborhood is super posh! Oh, I wonder if that red-headed dude is going to be our host Dad…"

Alfred let his gaze fall on Alistair, the eldest brother of my family. Said twit was parading and gliding across the lawn with his lawnmower, kicking aside the spare lawn gnome aside with an evil grin on his ugly mug of a face.

I caught Alistair's gaze at the wrong time, which gave him the unwanted invitation to drive up to Alfred's side of the car and knock on the window. Of course, he was wearing his favourite blue kilt, as he refused to wear any undergarments otherwise, and a matching knitted sweater. He was the tallest and strongest of my family, with bright, fiery-red hair that fell to his ears, the characteristic sharp green eyes that the entire Kirkland family possessed, and had eyebrows just as bushy and untamed as mine.

True to being a social butterfly, Alfred rolled down his window with a mirthful chuckle, his sunny cerulean eyes kind and welcoming. "That's quite the ride you got there," he commented.

"Why thank you, lad," Alistair shouted over the drones of his lawnmower. He didn't even bother to compliment the car we were driving in. I grit my teeth in agitation.

"You must be Alfred, yeah?" Alistair held out a leather-gloved hand to shake hands with Alfred. The twit played poker for a living and was extremely superstitious. He didn't let his bare hands touch much of anything. Regardless, this scheme must have been working for him seeing as he had bought this house at the mere age of twenty-two. Eight years have passed since.

"The name's Alistair, I'm Artie's older brother."

I was still refusing to look Alistair in the eye. Examining the smudge of dirt on the passenger's window was far worthier of my time anyhow.

Alfred looked between Alistair and I, a shit-disturbing grin spreading across his face. "Really now?" he mused, shaking hands with Alistair. "Artie never told me that he had an older brother!"

"Brothers," Alistair corrected before shifting his gaze in my direction. "Artie, aren't ya going to say hullo? I know you're a wee little thing with a fragile sense of self-worth, but I raised ya better than that!"

I winced. Alistair's rough Scottish accent was triggering a chain of memories that I would rather prefer to keep suppressed. You see, since my parents travelled a lot for their work, all my siblings were born in different countries. Alistair was born in Scotland, hence the Scottish accent, William was born in Wales, Isaac was born in Ireland, I was born in England, and Nolan, the youngest of us all, was born in North Ireland.

Alistair was the first to move to America. He quickly became rich from his poker ventures, and had offered to have his 'dearest little brothers' move in with him as opposed to constantly moving from place to place. My upbringing was not an easy one, I'll tell you that. The best day of my life was moving out four years ago. Don't let this suburbia paradise fool you; it's a trap.

I never thought that I would return, and even now, I had no intention of going back. I was supposed to be the one putting criminals in prison, not entering it myself.

"Alfred," I growled.

"Yes, Artie?" Alfred teased.

"Close the window," I snapped. "We're going back to headquarters and getting a new rooming assignment."

Alistair barked with laughter, turning off his lawnmower and setting it to the side. "Ye haven't changed one bit, still acting like yer top shit and all! Everything's already been settled; the school has this place listed as your home address. Sorry, but yer not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, a simple phone call every now and then wouldna kill ya Artie."

I turned around to glare at Alistair, opening my mouth in retort, only to be interrupted.

"And no!" Alistair patronizingly waggled his index finger at me. "An annual Christmas card does not 'suffice' as keeping in touch with us. Now come on," he crooned. "I missed that pissy voice of yours. Say hullo to yer dearest older brother…"

"Go on, Iggy," Alfred smirked, treating me as if I were a bloody toddler. "No need to be shy."

I opened the passenger door, only to slam it shut. "Both of you can go to hell!" I spat.

Alistair sighed. "I suppose I'll take that as a greeting."

Just because I had no choice with regards to staying here at this prison, that didn't mean I had to be hospitable. Dealing with family was an entirely different matter than being a guest at a stranger's house.

I stormed over to the trunk, harshly slapping it with my palm. "Open the damn trunk, Alfred!"

Both American and Scottish twit alike knew not to test my temper further. Well, at least for the meantime anyway.

Alfred clicked the button to open the trunk, stepping out of the car himself. He stretched his spine and arms, grateful that he was no longer cramped in such a small space. "Ah! Freedom at last!" he exclaimed.

Alistair whistled, giving Alfred's well-built figure a quick once-over. His muscles were still evident despite him wearing loose workout sweats.

"Yer built more like a Kirkland than delicate little Artie is!" Alistair grunted, crossing his arms in approval.

Alfred flexed his muscles. "Yep!" he grinned, a proud expression on his face. "Pops always told me that a strong body leads to a strong mind."

I repressed a scoff, rolling my eyes instead as I grabbed two suitcases from the trunk.

"That's always a relief to hear," Alistair's teasing glare softened. "When fairy boy decided to become a cop of all things, I couldn't help but worry fer him. You'll look out fer him, yeah?"

I felt my face redden: not that blasted nickname again. No, he wouldn't dare mention it…would he?

Alfred's glasses gleamed, his ego swelling beyond the borders of this 'great' country. "Of course!" he chirped.

Alistair smiled, a genuine one this time. "Now there's a good lad."

I struggled with the suitcases, hopelessly dragging them against the ground. "I can look after myself, thank you very much!" I scowled.

Both Alistair and Alfred gave me pitiful looks before snatching the suitcases from me. Wasn't it just peachy how well they were getting along?

"Oi!" I cried out, scrambling after them as we walked up the driveway.

My protests were ignored.

I sulked in silence as they began to carry the rest of our suitcases into the house, refusing to accept my help. I avoided looking at Alistair's blindingly pasty, albeit hairy legs -which were extremely hard to ignore- choosing instead to re-immerse myself in the nostalgic memories of my childhood home.

The blue tiles on the roof near the chimney were still burnt from my many failed magical experiments. The vinyl panelling on the side of the house wasn't faring all that well either. The walls had been used to kick a football against, or in my case, younger brothers. The front garden bed, which had long died upon my absence, still contained the occasional supernatural knick-knack such as a metal pole with a fairy windchime attached to it and a wooden sundial.

The house and its surrounding circumference smelt like a mixture of burnt food and alcohol. Apparently, my cooking wasn't all that good, but I wasn't nearly as awful of a cook as my brothers were. Besides, slightly burnt food was good for the intestines. At least that's what Alistair always used to say when he ate my food. Funny how his face always used to redden in pride whenever I cooked for him; he was a cheeky old fart, but deep down he was a sap at heart.

"Stop lollygagging and get in here already!" Alistair growled, prompting me to snap out of my daze and hurry inside the house.

Alfred had already taken off his shoes in the vestibule. He was arm in arm with Alistair as they walked into the living room to meet the rest of my miserable family.

"Everyone, meet Alfred. He's the chap who's been looking after Artie all this while!" Alistair boomed.

I scuttled into the living room after them, avoiding the stares of my other two brothers. Looks like Nolan was still working on his marine biology degree overseas. I didn't exactly fancy him either, but since he was the youngest of us all, he usually took most of the beatings and verbal quips.

Isaac set his bottle of whisky onto the coffee table, next to his muddy combat boots which he absolutely refused to take off no matter how many times he was lectured about his ill manners. In contrast to Alistair, Isaac's hair was a mop of ginger curls. He was burly and short in build. He was also the sharpest Kirkland, and disliked me the most out of everyone. As to why, I would never know. He had even gone so far to deem me as a "rotten bugger unworthy of his time." But alas, the joke's on him, considering where we ended up in life. Isaac never finished his degree and was currently working nights as a bartender at a local pub downtown.

"Good day. The name's Isaac. Pleasure to meet you," Isaac smiled at Alfred, before turning to narrow his eyes at me. "And a shitty afternoon to you," he sneered. "What's the sour look for? Uh-oh, better get writin' in that diary before you blow that short temper of yours again," he teased. "'M not so sure that being a bobby was the right profession for you. 'Might end up shooting someone!"

"T-that diary was explicitly private!" I fumed. "And I'll have you know that officers are only supposed to use their guns as a last resort! And a good afternoon to you too, you drunken jackass."

Isaac simply chuckled in response. "Looks like the academy made you even more stubborn and hard-headed than before," he guffawed, slapping a fist against the coffee table. This prompted an annoyed sigh from William.

Alfred and I both noticed the same -illegal- object at once.

Alfred smiled sheepishly. "Artie," he whispered. "Is that a bong hidden underneath the table?"

"Just ignore it," I hissed back through gritted teeth. "I've tried threatening to arrest him. It doesn't work."

Alfred sighed, conflicted between his quest for justice and the want to keep his head attached to his shoulders. I was surprised to see him let this infraction of the law go. Especially since America had such hard drug laws in place.

"Aw, don't be like that!" Isaac smirked. "Brothers share everything. What was that lassie's name again? Shelly, yeah? I'll give you this, you cheeky little cunt. You wrote some darn good romantic fiction about that girl. My favourite was the one with the mermai-!"

"Not another word!" I spat, trembling from head to toe with anger.

Alfred, Alistair, and Isaac all burst out laughing, exchanging jests at my expense.

William closed his book, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He was the brother that looked most akin to me with his lanky build and dishevelled blond hair, which was just a few shades paler than mine. He was the second oldest sibling, but my favourite nonetheless. He shared my love for English literature, and was currently working on his PhD. If I hadn't become a cop, I would have likely followed in his footsteps.

"The name's William, pleasure," William turned to glance at Alfred before chastising Isaac for his crude behaviour.

"That's enough now, Isaac," William scolded. "And it's nice to have you back, Arthur. It's lonely being the only sensible one here," he smiled.

"I can only imagine," I said, smiling in reciprocation. "I brought back those books I borrowed from you, by the way. I'll return them once I've finished settling in."

William nodded his head. "All right. Feel free to take anything you like. I've added a lot to my bookshelf since you were last here."

William and I both winced when Alistair and Alfred began to horse around with each other.

I waved at William one last time -ignoring the middle finger Isaac happily flipped me off with - before heading in the direction of the second floor.

I didn't even make it past the staircase before the cringing began.

"Alistair, why in the bloody fuck do you have that picture hanging up on the wall?!" I roared.

With dead eyes, I stared at a photo of my five-year-old self. I was bare chested, with nothing to cover my bottom half but a frilly pink tutu. As if that wasn't already enough, Alistair had placed a typed description under the picture frame:

"In loving memory of Artie's masculinity, 1994-1999."

"Why not?" Alistair asked. "I just wanted to pay respect to my late little brother," he pouted.

"Oh, sod off, will you?!" I snarled.

I grabbed my suitcases, dragging them up the first few steps of the staircase.

"HAHAHAHA!" Alfred wiped a tear from his cheek as he inspected the blasted photo for himself. "Man! This is priceless!"

"Alfred, don't you even think about snapchatting that photo! I still have the video of you throwing salt at that cinema attendant…" I threatened.

It was now Alfred's turn to pout as he grabbed his own suitcases to carry. "Can you blame a guy?" he whined. "What kind of employee is stupid enough to walk through the aisles during the middle of a scary movie?!"

"That still doesn't give you the right to tackle him and shout 'the power of Christ compels you' in his ear," I retorted. "The poor bloke was deaf for an entire week."

"Fine," Alfred muttered, only to squeak when Alistair gave him a firm pat to the back.

"Best if you two get settled in. The pizza will be here in an hour. And are ye sure ye don't need any help carrying those suitcases, Artie? There's no pride fer you to maintain anymore," Alistair sung in a smug tone.

"I'll be just fine, thank you," I answered curtly, ignoring the pain in my arms.

With the promise of pizza on his mind and stomach, Alfred was moving at a much faster pace, passing by me with ease. It infuriated me how well he fit into my family.

"Oh please!" Isaac scoffed from the living room. "The only thing those noodle arms are capable of holding is that miserably limp weenie of yours! Bahaha!"

"That's it," William sighed. "No more alcohol for you. You're officially cut off."

"Oi! Unhand me, you betchy-bookworm of a buffoon!"

Alfred turned to give me a confused look, but I simply waved him forward. Once a fight started in this household, it was best to just let it end on its own terms without getting anyone else involved.

…

It was honestly insulting how well Alfred fit into this household.

I just about had to drag him upstairs to my bedroom after supper, which had included several pints of beer. Luckily, Alfred needed a lot to get drunk, so he was still coherent enough for us to go over our mission papers one last time before we called it a day.

I was lying on the top bunk, sitting cross legged and rummaging through our case files. Knowing how heavy Alfred was, I couldn't let him have the top bunk and risk getting crushed during the night. Alfred tossed and turned a lot in his sleep; I had had enough experience back at the academy to know that.

Despite how unpleasant it was to see my brothers again -with the exception of William- I truly did miss this bedroom. There was still the familiar glow-in-the-dark bunny stickers strewn across the ceiling. There was also the large wooden bookcase that contained hundreds of my utmost favourite novels (most of which were Sherlock Holmes collections). The pastel green walls of my bedroom were decorated with merch from several fandoms, although Harry Potter and Doctor Who were the most prevalent. My favourite thing of all was that the room still smelled like aged paper. This was my safe haven, and it did well to comfort my anxieties about going back to high school. I thought I had left that hell behind long ago, but apparently not.

"Would you quit fussing about your outfit and review your file already?" I grumbled, while Alfred continued to pull apart his wardrobe.

"No can do, Iggy," Alfred smirked, pulling out a navy-blue hoodie for me to inspect. "First impressions are all about how you look. I'm supposed to fit in with the cool kids, remember? So, whaddya think? This with faded skinny jeans or dark ones?" he asked.

"Faded," I answered, shuffling the papers. "But you really ought to know what our cover is. Tell me, who's Allen, and who's Oliver?"

Alfred had two questions to answer, and yet he still managed to fail the test with flying idiocy.

"I'm Oliver, and you're Allen!" Alfred said proudly, smoothing at the wrinkles of his chosen outfit.

I shook my head. "No, you imbecile. I'm Oliver and you're Allen."

This mission was already hopeless.

"Gotcha," Alfred winked. "I still think it's pretty cool that we get to be brothers."

"Whatever," I sighed.

"Have you given your outfit any thought?" Alfred asked, causing the entire bunk to shake as he plopped down on his bed.

I furrowed my brows. "I'll probably just wear a sweater vest or a blouse. Why does it bloody matter anyways?"

Alfred gasped. "No wonder you were a loser in high school!"

"Thanks," I muttered dryly.

We spent the next few minutes searching for an outfit for me to wear, as opposed to you know, being productive.

Alfred moved to open the bottom-most drawer of my dresser.

"N-no! Don't open that!" I cried out.

Too late.

Alfred discovered my long-repressed emo phase as he pulled out several chains, fish-net style garments, leather jackets, chokers, and unopened eyeliner packages from said forbidden drawer. I reluctantly had to explain to him that during my freshman year I had really been into 'poetry'. Yes, let's just leave it at that…

This prompted Alfred to make a smug comment about my tramp-stamp guitar tattoo.

In the end, we both agreed on me dressing as an emo for the duration of the mission. It was a sure way to put me on the path to becoming a loser again. Huzzah, I suppose…

After getting dressed for bed, Alfred shut off the lights and climbed into his bunk.

I was lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling listlessly.

"Hey Iggy?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for being such a dick to you in high school. I promise that it won't be like that this time…" Alfred trailed off, swallowing audibly.

A small smile crept onto my face. "That's quite all right, Alfred. Let's just make sure to do our jobs properly this time."

Alfred chuckled weakly. "Sure thing, partner."

I leaned my arm over the bunk. "We're brothers now. I think that calls for a high five, don't you think?" I mused.

SLAP!

"Bloody hell, Alfred!" I howled, cradling my elbow. "I didn't ask for you to break my arm!"

"Shit, sorry!"

"Would ye two quit sucking each other's willies and shut the fack up?!" Alistair yelled, pounding a fist against my bedroom wall.

Silence at last.

…

This so was not happening right now. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply to calm myself. Alfred had just pulled into the school's parking lot. Our mission officially started as soon as we stepped out of this car.

It was already clear by our outfits that we would be standing out amongst the sea of students shuffling about outside; fashion changed so much in just seven years. Even worse, we were starting the school year one month after the semester had officially started. It was October, which meant that most cliques would already be formed by now.

Regardless, true to my word, I was dressed like a goth. I was wearing tight black skinny jeans, a graphic Metallica t-shirt underneath a black leather jacket, black combat boots, a laced choker around my neck, and several fake piercings dotting my ears, nose, and upper brow area. I had even gone so far as to coat my eyelashes with a thin layer of mascara.

Where I was nervous and uncertain, Alfred was brimming with confidence. The way that he had his hair slicked up with gel made him look like a peacock. He was going more for a laid-back appearance with an open flannel shirt, loose denim jeans, and purposefully dirty brown lumber boots.

As Alfred gave me one last pep talk, I hugged a binder to my chest, wanting to be anywhere but here.

"Dude! No!" Alfred scolded. "All school stuff goes in your backpack! Walking out holding your binder is like a nerd's mating call for bullies. Also, make sure to wear your backpack with one shoulder only. Two-strappers are known to be at the bottom of the social food chain."

"I'm supposed to play the nerd, right?" I scowled. "If that's the case, I should be holding my binder like this."

Alfred sighed. "All right. I was only trying to look out for you."

I gave Alfred a weak smile. "I'll be fine, but thank you for your concern. We'll make it through this mission successfully…we'll prove anyone who's ever doubted our skills as police officers wrong. You and I, we've always made a good team. Now let's put those skills to work."

Alfred and I bumped fists.

"True that!" Alfred exclaimed, smiling wildly.

His smile faded, and the air in the car suddenly became awkward.

"Uh, Iggy?"

"Yeah?"

Alfred's expression became sheepish. "I'm going to need you to leave the car before me. I can't be seen walking with you…"

I sucked in my breath, pretending not to be offended. "R-right," I stammered, opening the car door with trembling fingers. "I'll see you later then?"

"Yup!"

And with that, I was off, walking towards the hellish prison I thought I would never have to face again.

I heard Alfred get out of the car after me, slowing his steps so that we were a reasonable distance apart from one another.

I looked around the parking lot, feeling overwhelmed by how very clueless we were. All stereotypes that we had been taught about were wrong. Half of the students carried their books in their arms like me, and there was an even ratio for those who one-strapped and two-strapped their backpacks.

It wasn't exactly clear who the cool kids were either. Thankfully, I had done a bit of last-minute research on this website called tumblr last night. The girls with colorful wigs and bright knee-high socks were weeaboos. There were no full-on goths like me, but wearing black and leather was far more acceptable nowadays, as most people incorporated such garments into their wardrobe. I didn't find any cheerleaders, or boys wearing varsity jackets either. The fashion choices of the students were all so mixed! It was difficult to divide them into groups. The only go-to group that you could expect to find at any school were the stoners. I spotted two lads, one who oddly had a cat lying on his back, smoking by the side entrance of the school.

Alfred gasped behind me. "What the heck is this place?"

Clearly, he was just as surprised as I was. No matter, I was more prepared for this than he was.

As always, I would be carrying the full burden of our workload.

I continued with my assessment, not letting my eyes linger anywhere for too long. A group of lanky boys to my right were leaning against a mini-van, heads bobbed as they played on their Nintendo 3Ds'.

Geeks.

At the entrance of the school, a boy with mousy-brown hair and his weird, trembling partner were rolling a projector cart up the front ramp.

AV Crew.

A red convertible drove into the parking lot. Several girls with bleached hair, black eyes, sharp talons for nails, and red lips stepped out of the convertible, but not before pausing to take a selfie.

Insta Beauty Gurus.

All breath was taken away from me when a girl with bobbed blonde hair and green eyes skated past me with her rollerblades. She was wearing a peach, long-sleeved dress with a jean jacket to cover her back and shoulders. She had such a beautiful smile. My gaze lingered on her as she skated up to a tall blond male with spiky hair and sunglasses. She took off her helmet and giggled as the boy bent down to kiss her in greeting.

I found myself looking away, disturbed by how disappointed I felt. She's a teenager Arthur, get your head out of the damn gutter.

The boy with the sunglasses spotted me ogling, and rather than getting angry, he waved me over. "Hey!" he said, his lips stretching to reveal a row of perfect straight teeth. "That's a nice ride you got there. Very environmentally friendly!"

The boy must have seen me get out of the mini-cooper but not Alfred.

Swallowing down my social anxiety, I made my way over to the boy's group. There were six of them, all of whom were dressed like hipsters whether it being the strange colours of their glasses frames, the rips and tears in their clothing, or their hats which where tilted in every possible direction. Christ, what kind of alternate universe have I just entered?

The boy with sunglasses was wearing a bright blue and yellow Hawaiian t-shirt. He was leaning against a slick black Mercedes Benz, the girl from earlier clinging to his right arm. Her lips were spread into a cat-like grin as she watched me walk over to them. Asides from her, all five boys in the group were wearing a cross necklace of some sorts. Unfortunately, I didn't know them well enough to ask about it.

"Thanks," I politely nodded my head. I made a strong effort to avoid looking at the green-eyed girl. "That's some shirt you got there. I don't think I've ever seen something like it."

I cringed inwardly. Good going, you bloody idiot. That could have easily been interpreted as an insult.

Thankfully, the boy wasn't offended easily. He pulled down his sunglasses, revealing kind indigo blue eyes. "I could say the same for you," he chuckled, eyeing my head to toe black attire.

"Hmmm yes, I suppose," I mumbled, blushing.

"You new here? You've got a pretty rad accent," he mused, despite him also having some sort of accent. Scandinavian perhaps?

"Yeah," I answered, awkwardly fidgeting with the binder in my hands. "Just moved here from England to live with my half-brother."

"Cool, very cool," the boy nodded, holding out his hand for me to shake. "The name's Matthias, nice to meet you."

I briefly shook hands with Matthias, regretting not wiping my clammy hands before I did so. "Oliver, the pleasure's all mine."

Matthias laughed. "I bet you get a lot of ladies being from England, eh?"

"Surprisingly no," I snorted.

The most surprising thing here was that I was actually able to maintain a conversation with this boy.

"Well, I'm sure that won't be the case here. No girl can resist a man with a dreamy accent," Matthias looked at Bella fondly, who smirked back. "Well, lemme introduce you to the squad."

"This is Bella," Matthias gestured at the girl.

"Bonjour~!" Bella chirped.

Peachy. Why was it that I was always attracted to French-speaking women?! It must have been a curse that I was born with.

"This is Lukas." Matthias pointed towards a smaller boy with blue eyes and a pale blond mop that was held back with a cross clip. What was it with these crosses? Were they part of a cult? Was that it?

Lukas mumbled a brief hello, more interested in his phone than the conversation at hand.

"Lukas," Matthias chided. "What kind of hello was that? Surely your quest to obtain social justice on twitter can wait?"

"No, it really can't," Lukas rolled his eyes. "I have an orange-skinned fear-monger of a president to oust. And quit treating me like a kid, idiot."

Unfazed by Lukas's rudeness, Matthias moved on to the next kid, who was sitting in the back of the Mercedes Benz with his arms crossed and a forlorn expression on his face. He had very pale silver inwardly-curling hair and violet eyes.

"This is Emil, Lukas's step-brother. I'd stay clear of him if I were you. He's been having a rough time lately since…well…some really bad shit went down, I'll just leave it at that."

Emil responded by sticking up his middle finger behind Matthias's back. "I told him I was fine," he muttered to himself. "It's not like I had a crush on that guy anyways. I wish he'd stop babying me…"

Matthias pointed to the tallest member of the group, a boy with sharp blue eyes, glasses, and short, neatly-trimmed blond hair. He appeared to have a resting glare on his face.

"And this burly giant over here is Berwald. He doesn't speak much, but deep down he's actually a softie."

Berwald gave me a curt nod.

Matthias let his finger trail to the last and shortest member of the group, a delicate-looking boy with lilac eyes and soft tufts of bleach-blond hair. He was leaning over the front hood over the car, burying his nose deep into a history textbook.

"This is Tino. As you can see, he's currently preoccupied with cramming for our first period history test."

Tino raised his hand in hello, all the while nervously flipping through a pack of cue cards with written facts on them.

I smiled at every member of the group. "Well, it was nice meeting you all. But I really ought to get to class. I still have to pick up my schedule and-"

My knees buckled forward when Alfred wrapped an arm over my shoulders. "Aren't you going to introduce me too, Ollie?" he bellowed into my ear, causing an already jumpy Tino to flinch and sigh in annoyance.

"Calm down Tinny, everything's going to be fine," Tino muttered to himself.

My ears were still ringing from Alfred shouting in them.

So much for us keeping our separate ways…

"Of course," I deadpanned. "Everyone, this is my brother, Allen. He grew up in America, hence the different accents."

The group all gave their hellos, still weirded out by how obnoxiously loud Alfred was being.

Tino looked over his shoulder. "Hey, can you guys keep it down?" he squeaked. "I'm stressing out over here!"

Alfred barked with laughter. "HA! What a loser! Who gives a crap about school, am I right?"

Matthias gave me a strange look.

I had nothing to say nor do as I watched Alfred dig himself into an even deeper hole. Looks like he hadn't truly gotten rid of his past as a bully.

Tino stood up from the hood of the car, tilting his chin up at Alfred. "I do," he said in an even tone. "Why, do you have a problem with that?"

Berwald's shoulders tensed.

Alfred shrugged his arm off me, taking a step towards Tino with a wolfish grin on his face. "Yep, I sure do!"

My vision blacked out briefly when Alfred sucker punched Tino. How could things possibly go so wrong, this fast? The only answer to that question was Alfred.

"Serves you right, you little twerp!" said moron cackled. His attempt to impress the group members was failing miserably. Although, I hardly see how asserting physical dominance would ever work. Not to mention that he was breaking every single protocol in the book.

Tino fell to the ground, cupping his assaulted jaw with his hand.

"What did he do that for?!" Matthias roared, bending down to see if Tino was okay.

Tino was definitely not okay.

The poor boy was coughing up blood on the ground.

I began to panic. "Bloody hell! I'm so sorry! I'm sure Allen didn't intend to hit him that hard! Right, Allen?" I turned to glare at Alfred, but he was too busy backing up from a now furious Berwald.

"That doesn't excuse the fact that he punched him in the first place!" Matthias snapped. "Like, what the hell?!"

Valid point.

"Woah there, easy, big guy," Alfred chided, his eyes fearful as Berwald towered over him.

PUNCH!

"Don't touch my w'fe," Berwald snarled, whatever the hell that meant.

Alfred crumpled to the ground, choking since he had just been punched in the windpipe.

A sharp whistle blew across the parking lot, signalling the arrival of what appeared to be the school's Gym teacher. He was wearing a blank muscle shirt, camouflage pants, and black combat boots. In addition to the whistle hanging around his neck, he also wore a necklace with a thick black cross for a pendant. He was Aryan in appearance with slicked-back blond hair, very blue eyes, and a taut, strict mouth.

"What's the meaning of this?" the teacher snapped, his voice deep and unforgiving.

All of us started to speak at once, which prompted the teacher to hold up his massive hand. "Forget it, I don't care. Just tell me who started it," he sighed.

Matthias glanced up at me, his eyes communicating a remorseless 'what can you do?' expression.

I understood why when all his friends, including Bella, pointed fingers at Alfred and myself.

A stern hand grabbed the collar of my jacket.

Sent to the office on our first day…huh?

Brilliant.

…

Alfred and I were sitting in the office, in trouble for something that he did as per usual. I was livid and refused to look at him. Alfred was too busy holding an icepack to his face anyways. Instead, I looked straight ahead into the red eyes of the principal standing before us.

The golden plaque on his desk read 'Fritz Schmidt.' The name sounded extremely German, but he sure didn't look it. He was an albino with milk-white skin and equally pale hair. The man was an odd ball who impatiently paced back and forth across the room. Despite wearing a suit and tie, he broke away from stiff formalities by also sporting a black snap-back hat. He was very young-looking and pulled off the 'relatable and cool' adult façade effortlessly. Probably because he was a bit childish himself judging by the opened confiscated candy on his desk, and the beer that he had passed off as 'juice' in his plastic water bottle.

"Oliver and Allen Walker," he drawled. "Explain something to me, will you? You boys haven't even been here for one hour, and yet you still managed to fuck up royally! How?"

Alfred feigned a pout. "Come on, Fritz. Can I call ya Fritz? We didn't mean to cause any trouble. Besides, it's not like we did anything that bad."

"You punched an emotionally-fragile, gay Finish kid in the jaw," Principal Fritz deadpanned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And no, you may not. Only awesome students that I like get to call me that."

"Well, if I would have known that he was gay, I wouldn't have punched him!" Alfred protested.

"I don't think that's the point, Allen," I snarled.

I was done trying to defend myself.

Principal Fritz slammed both hands on his desk. "Listen here, kiddos. I've already got a lot of shit on my plate as it is, so let's make this quick. A student died from a drug overdose last month and the school board is breathing down my neck. Cause another fight and you pricks can both consider yourselves expelled. We clear?"

Alfred and I sullenly mumbled our agreements.

Principal Fritz smiled. "Good, now who's Allen and who's Oliver?"

"Oliver," I yawned.

"Allen," Alfred said dryly.

Principal Fritz reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out our schedules.

As I read mine over, I felt my blood begin to boil again. "I don't remember signing up for Drama or Gym?" I muttered.

I turned to glance at Alfred, who looked just as confused as I was.

And then it hit me.

Back at the Church, I had left it up to Alfred to fax the school our transcripts. Like the dumbass that he was, he must have mixed up the names. Once again, I've placed too much trust in him, and just look at where it's gotten me…

Principal Fritz raised a pale brow at us. "Do we have a problem?"

Alfred abruptly stood up from his chair. "Nope, not at all! Come on, Ollie, we don't want to be late for our first class, now do we?"

I slapped my backpack over my shoulder and followed Alfred out of the office. "No, I suppose not."

The scowl on my face told Alfred everything that he needed to know.

…

Coach Lud looked up and down the hallway. When he deemed the area to be clear of students, he picked up the buzzing phone in his pocket. He really hoped that no one could hear him. He couldn't act too suspicious otherwise his entire plan would be thrown into chaos.

He answered the phone, hissing for the eager voice on the other end of the line to be quiet.

"No, I haven't gone through with the deal yet," Coach Lud muttered, blue eyes paranoidly scanning up and down the hallway for the tenth consecutive time. "We agreed to meet tomorrow."

The person on the other end of the line wasn't satisfied with that answer. They wanted to know more, and Coach Lud didn't have nearly enough time to explain everything.

"Look, I have to go. Besides, I told you not to call me unless it's absolutely necessary."

More incessant chatter.

Coach Lud sighed. Ending phone calls with this person always proved to be difficult. "Ja. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Take care…"

CLICK!

Coach Lud hung up the phone, discreetly slipping it back into his pocket.

He checked the hallway one last time before heading towards his office in the Gym.

After all, he had a very important meeting to prepare for.

…

"Do you even know what chemistry is?!" I snapped, dragging my feet against the ground as we walked towards our assigned lockers.

Alfred shed me with a confident smile. "Yup! There's no need for you to be worried, Iggy. These subjects aren't as hard as you're making them out to be. I'll be fine!"

"Go on then," I sighed. "Prove me wrong and enlighten me with a fact."

"The nucleus is the power house of the cell!"

I saw red.

"Okay, first, it's the mitochondria, not the nucleus. And second, that's biology, not chemistry, you git!"

I walked up to a locker and began to bang my head against the harsh metal surface.

"This mission is doomed."

To be continued…