"Igggy, I'm hommmeee!"
America's loud voice rang throughout the entire house. Ireland nearly fell out her chair; she had been anticipating this for the whole 5 hours since England had told her that she was going to stay with America with a few years, until her country's famine wore off.
"Ughh…"
She moaned a little, clutching her stomach, wincing. Probably not the best idea to jump right now.
Her stomach had started hurting soon after she learned the horrible news that a darned blight had destroyed all of her nation's potatoe crop. At first, it was really painful. She would even cough up blood, even if it was just a little. Her people were dying fast, which scared her. Her irish natives were strong, they would never give up. They would fight until their very last breath.
Too bad they literally were.
When she had finally moved back in with England, the pain in her body was just a dull throb that she learned to ignore. This was not going to defeat her; especailly not with that cocky English man watching.
As Ireland snatched up her little suitcase, which was filled with a few simple dresses, songbook, and hair brush, she felt her stomach do a flip-flop.
She was going to America. But then, she stopped.
What if he didn't like her. What if he thought her hair was too red, her feckles too gross, or her speech stupid?
She winced as the embaressment flooded through her. What if he was cruel, like England was sometimes? What if he made her a slave, a mindless, robotic slave?
No.
America was better than that, she told herself, he wouldn't be like the others.
She grinned- maybe he would even be cute…
"IRELAND, GET YOUR BLOODY ASS DOWN HERE, AMERICA'S HERE!"
She could hear England screeching from the bottom of the stairs, and then she heard America's voice ringing.
It was a real nice sound, so happy and carefree. That's the word- free. She sighed happily, feeling that, in a way, she was freeing herself from England. She was freeing herself from her people's suffering. With America, everything would be better.
Ireland skipped down the stairs, swinging her case back and forth, and met the person who would take her in.
America had on his big, sweet smile, and his blue eyes shined a bit sadly up at Ireland.
England on the other hand, was scowling, complaining about how long the girl was taking, and how he wanted America out of his house, because he was dragging his dirty feet all over the floor.
America then clapped England hard on the back, making the older one stumble forward.
"Ah, she's not a total monster Iggy!"
Ireland stopped, frowned, and dropped her suitcase. England's eye's widened a bit in horror.
"You called me a what?"
Her voice was thin and cold, like ice, but her face was turning that burning beet red, freckles popping.
"Americaaa!"
He hissed, slowly backing up, and finally hiding behind the taller nation's shoulders.
Ireland let out a shriek, and with teeth bared, threw herself forward at England.
"HOW DARE YOU!"
America frowned a little, but still managed to block the raging girl from maiming his brother.
"Ireland…"
Ireland scratched furiously at him, murder in her expression.
"May you be afflicted with the itch and have no nails to scratch with!"
Her clawing slowed down though, and she felt the weariness flood through her limbs.
America noticed, and slowly put his hands on her shoulders, slowing her even more.
England stepped out from behind his former colony, eyebrows furrowed, his own face now turning a nasty shade of scarlet.
Ireland blushed ridicuosly bright red, not only had she looked like a complete idiot in front of America, but she now looked weak in front of England.
Don't you dare cry.
She repeated over and over in her head, looking down at the floor.
America cleared his throat awkwardly, cutting off whatever snide remark England was about to say.
"Ireland, let's..um, get going then…"
She nodded slightly, and followed the tall nation out the door.
England shut the door behind them very loudly, causing her to look up.
She was free!
A rush of excitement washed over her as she sat in the seat next to America. The wagon bounced a lot, making her grip the side, and she watched the horses' heads bob up and down.
A few hours later, they were pulled up to a large white house. Not exactly a mansion like Englands, but very big and impressive.
Ireland took a deep breath, hopped out of the side, dragging her little suitcase behind her. This was a new start, a clean, fresh start. She almost couldn't feel the throbbing in her hungry stomach, and she felt like she could sing.
America showed Ireland to her new room, which was nice. It was plain, with white walls and only a small bed and desk, but hey, it was better than nothing.
She unceremoniously dropped her suitcase on the white linen blankets of the bed, and walked over to the little mirror on the desk.
She looked at her reflection, which smiled back at her. She felt a little better already, and her eyes were clearer.
She crossed back to her bed, and plopped down. That hurt a little though, and she took a few deep breaths, holding her stomach lightly. Note to self: no jumping or plopping from now on.
"IRELAND!"
She heard America calling from downstairs.
The red-head girl bounced up- ugh, no bouncing either, hurts too much- and quickly rushed down the staircase, pulling her hair back and tying it up.
Worktime.