Privet!~ Yep, so I'm writing again. Random burst of inspiration.
Vlad: You need to go out and... get some actual friends.
Thanks for your wonderful suggestion. -_- Anyway, I don't own Hetalia, yada, yada, if I did all it would be is yaoi, blah blah.
Um... probably some fluff in later chapters, rated T for safety. Main couple: America x Belarus. There'll be hints at so much others that I'm not even going to list them.
Vlad: PEETA X GALE?
No, Vlad. No Hunger Games.
Vlad: You ruined my day. Moron.
That's what I aim for. Anyway, enjoy!
I don't get these people.
Yeah, so maybe I'm failing geometry. And just scraping by in english and biology. But that doesn't mean I should have to take some stupid elective. I mean, why not summer school? That's what I asked coach yesterday after practice:
"Coach, why do I need to take an elective? Can't I just take summer school like everyone else?"
"Alfred, you either take the course, or get kicked off the team. And let me tell you something-you get kicked off the team, you can kiss any scholarship goodbye."
Personally, I thought that was pretty harsh. Why do I need passing grades for football? You don't get as much of a rush acing a test as you down making a winning touchdown.
But taking the freaking course couldn't be enough for coach and the teachers. Oh, no, they had to choose the course for me. Choose it! And they couldn't even choose something good! I have to admit, I wouldn't be so pissed if it was gym; I'd pass that one with flying colors. Even woodshop would've been so-so. But no. Guess they decided to give me the full-on treatment.
I sigh as I sit in the front left row of my small school's equally small audiotorium, all the way off to the side. Yep, you guessed it. I have to take chorus for the remainder of my junior year.
I don't know what to do. I mean, it should be easy, right? That's what everyone tells me-well, at least those of my friends who decided to take electives instead of study halls. Which isn't a lot, come to think of it. I'm kinda worried about it, though. I don't know anything about music.
Well, okay. I do know a little. But I know the stuff on the radio, not the crappy classical stuff they sing in here. From what I can hear from people talking in the old, red middle section seats, there's scales and key signatures and time signatures and treble and bass and alto and... I don't think I can remember all that. I hope to God I don't have to. Thinking about it makes me bite my fingernails, a habit which I thought I broke when my popularity status went way up, due to being the football star and all.
It's extremely hard to ignore all the people watching me right now. It must really confuse them. It's not a common sight, me in the audiotorium. I'm only ever in here for some stupid assembly or awards cermeony, or the occasional change in study hall location. But never, in a million years, would I have ever been here for an actual class.
Hmph. A million years goes by real quick, doesn't it?
I recognize the teacher as he walks in. Mr. Edelstein is also the concert and marching band director at our dear little hick school. I recognize him from football season. Although I'd recognize his wife more than I would him. That Hungarian woman is one of the hottest foriegn girls I've ever seen. I wonder how he managed to get her? Anyway, everyone says he's pretty cool, except for his accent being a little hard to understand-his parents migrated here from Austria when he was ten or something. I realize now that I've never actually seen him in school, since I never had to go to the end of that particular hallway where the three measly Fine Arts Department rooms are located. It's odd to see him in work clothes; I'm used to the Friday night sweatshirt and jeans, telling drummers to stay in tempo (I'm guessing I'll learn what that is)and reminding trumpets about F sharp (whatever that may be). They must be really bad at F sharp, though. They seem to never get it right.
"Alright, everybody!" he says, and I doze off as he takes roll, barely noticing my name being called. I let out a small, disinterested 'here' and watch him call the rest of the names off. I hear him mutter something along the lines of, "She's always late. Always." I wonder who he's talking about?
As the rest of the class take their spots on the ancient risers, he clears one in the top row for me. He told me I'd be a tenor, because apparently we have a tenor shortage. This confuses me deeply. He didn't bother to explain what the hell a 'tenor' is, and so now I'm kinda lost. I'm standing next to someone who I don't recognize at all to my left and this mousy, shaggy brown haired kid that I somewhat recognize to my right. I know he's a junior, too, and his name is Toris. I think.
Edlestein (I don't really do the Mr. and Mrs. often) starts us with these warm-ups. I'm surprised that they're relatively easy to catch onto, but I don't get my hopes up-I haven't seen the actual music yet. I notice that Edelstein keeps eyeing the black piano, though-not like he wants to play it, but like he's... expecting something. I don't see why he wouldn't want to play it. Dude's, like, first class.
Damn, these warm-ups go on forever. I watch Edelstein as he continues eyeing the piano, and then the doors to the audiotorium stage. Fifteen minutes into class, I follow his watchful eye to said doors, a relieved look now crossing his face. And-
Oh... who would that be?
A rather pale girl who I've never seen before walks monotonously through the audiotorium doors. She has this really long, oddly colored, pin straight, plaitnum hair that falls down past her waist. It can't be dyed; I've seen dyed hair before, and lots of it. That's most certainly natural. She looks to be about five foot three, and... hmm, a freshman? Yes, a freshman-if she were in tenth grade, I'd have probably seen her at least once or twice by now. She walks somewhere back stage, and I have to admit, I'm kinda disappointed. Now I know that I couldn't have ever seen her before; I'd have remembered her. Finally, she comes back with a black folder and sits at the piano. I notice then that here eyes are oddly colored, too-this weird, pretty, sort of seductive midnight blue. Her face is set in a grimace, and has been since she set foot on this stage. She has this cute little white bow in her hair, too, off to the right.
I don't even know this girl's name, but I decide, right then and there, that I love her.
Okay, maybe not love, but like. At least like. I watch in amazement as Edlestein just barely awknowledges her, with a slight smile. This surprises me-shouldn't he be freaking out on her or something, since she's so late? But no, wait. She's sitting at the piano, so she must be the pianist. A teacher's pet. Probably has some sort of special privilege. "Nice of you to join us, Miss. Alfroskaya," he says, then goes to sift through a huge pile of songs he has lying in a disorderly pile on a black stand in front of him. She merely gives him a slight nod of the head, that sort of attractive and what I now assume to be characteristic scowl on her face.
Alfroskaya... Alfroskaya... that sounds quite familiar. After a few seconds, it hits me. About two years ago, there was this really freaky kid named Ivan Braginski. Very, very odd. There were a lot of girls that liked him, but were to scared to go near him. Everyone was. He's an heir to some company, too. He kinda reminded me of my childhood, because I used to watch some cartoon with this teenage boss kid in it who was really standoff-ish. But, anyway, he and his older sister (who graduated a few years before him) migrated here from Russia with their mother and step-father. I realize now that this is his step-sister, Natalya. I think she was, like, five when they migrated... I wonder if she still has her accent? I'd bet it sounds very, very attractive.
I'm handed some four-page long Christmas song (it's late October) and am told to get a half-inch black folder. I nod and let out a small "yes", but I'm not really interested. The only thing in this whole school that I'm interested in right now is that girl at the piano.
You know, come to think of it, this is turning out to be an awesome class.
End of chapter 1. xD Set in a hick school, because I attend a hick school. ^_^ Spun out in, like, two hours total. So, review. Tune in for later chapters, too! Hope you liked!
Oh, and also, random trivia question: "He kinda reminded me of my childhood, because I used to watch some cartoon with this teenage boss kid in it who was really standoff-ish." Can you guess who dear Alfie was talking about? Hint: It's from an anime... ^^
SHUT YOUR MOUTH.
Vlad: I'll shut it when you give me Peeta.
... you have issues, my friend.
Vlad: *crosses arms* Well, hey, blame yourself for that. You created me. Plus, I'm anime you, remember?
... *facepalm* Dear Lord, what have I done...?
Haha, so thanks for reading! Again, review, think about that trivia, and tune in for later chapters!