A/N: Hello again! So, if any of you have read my other stories about Iceland X Hong Kong, thanks! But, this story is NOT related. I hope you still like it! I love you for reading this~! ^^ Oh, one more thing. I use country names, just because it annoys me when a country doesn't have a cannon name and people just make up whatever they want. I don't roll like that. XP
Chapter 1: We're Not in Iceland Anymore
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I slapped my hand onto the alarm clock, feeling around for the snooze button. Just as I hit it though, I heard a creak coming from across the room. I reluctantly opened one eye and peered towards my door. Standing in the door frame was my older brother Norway, or Norge as everyone calls him. "Can I help you?" I grumbled. It's way too early for people to be awake. I looked to the window and saw that it was still dark outside. I knew that it was 2:00 AM, but I refused to accept that that was an actual time.
"Get up," Norge said dryly. He then walked over and pried my warm blankets away from me. "We have to catch our flight." He turned around and walked out of my room.
I stood up and a shiver shot up my spine as my feet came in contact with the cold, hardwood, floor. Why do we have to go to some dumb school in America, anyways? I know that Norge said it was the best high school in the world, but I don't care. I like it here in Iceland, the country that I was named after. Which I still don't get. Why is everyone named after a country? Who decided that? I continued to ponder how strange our world's naming system was as I left my room to go to the small bathroom down the hall. It was the end of August, but it was still pretty cool inside our house. Probably because Norge is so cheap that he refuses to ever turn up the heat.
After I took a quick shower and brushed my teeth, I went into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?" I asked Norge. He just looked up at me from behind his laptop for a second and glared. Fine, I'll make my own breakfast. I grabbed a bowl and poured some cereal and milk into it. I sat down at the table and Norge closed his computer.
"You have to hurry. I know you haven't finished packing, and we have to leave in 10 minutes... And I'm not helping you pack." Norge stood up and left; presumably to get his own luggage, which he had packed two days ago. I swallowed my cereal in three gulps and rushed into my room.
Why did I not pack last night when Norge told me to? He's always right... I suddenly stopped my train of thought. What am I thinking? Norge is never right. I knew that my brother was usually right but because he was so overprotective of me, I was extremely rebellious against him. I threw all of my clothes into one suitcase, (wow, I don't own a lot of clothes) and then ran into the bathroom again, this time to grab my toothbrush and other toiletries. Just as I finished getting into my white knee-high boots, Norge came to my doorway again.
"I hope you have everything, because our cab is here and we're not going to keep it waiting." He spoke in his usual, dry, voice, but I knew that he didn't mean it. If I hadn't finished packing in time, Norge would have immediately jumped in to help me.
"Yeah, I think I have everything." My tone was just as dry, but Norge smiled a little and led me into the living room. Waiting at the front door were Norge's two suitcases and carry-on bag. I just had the one suitcase that I tugged behind me. I picked up Norge's carry-on and he got his suitcases and we exited the front door together. "We'll be back soon," I promised the house as Norge locked the door. We descended the steps and threw our luggage into the trunk of the cab.
"Keflavíkurflugvöllur," Norge said to the cab driver as we got into the back seat.
The ride to Keflavík International Airport went fast, because I fell asleep the second we pulled onto the highway. But it took forever at the airport. I hate flying because it's always such a hassle to deal with all of the security checks and the paperwork stuff. Thankfully Norge was left in charge, so we got through smoothly. Now I sat in the small airplane that would bring us to New York, where we were going to catch a second plane that will bring us directly to San Francisco. "We'll be back soon," I said again; though this time I didn't say it just to my house, but to my home. I'd only been out of Iceland once, to go to Norway for the summer last year, and I didn't like it. I felt like I was cheating on my home country to go live in America for the next four years of my life. Oh well. I can't do anything about it now. The plane lifted off the runway and I sadly watched Iceland as it disappeared beneath us.
"Let's go find somewhere to eat lunch," Norge suggested as we left San Francisco International Airport. Both of our flights had gone without a hitch, except when I had to go to the bathroom to throw up as we flew over Missouri. My stomach can't handle too much motion before I get sick. Of course, Norge doesn't know that. He'd get even more protective if he knew my one weakness. So I had just told him I had to use the bathroom and left it at that. I didn't lie. It's not like he asked why I needed a bathroom. It would have been so embarrassing if he knew I was throwing up my cereal.
"Yeah, I'm starving," I replied.
"I told you to eat when we were in New York. We had an hour long overlay between our flights on purpose; I knew we'd get hungry," Norge said, as he rolled his eyes.
"Whatever," I said. Little did he know that I specifically didn't eat because I knew I was going to throw up, and the less there was for me to throw up, the better. I looked at a clock and groaned; it was only 10:45 AM! Our flight from Keflavík International Airport had left around 5:00 AM and we had flown for about eleven and a half hours, but the time difference put us seven hours back.
"Just come on," Norge said, but before I could say anything in return, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into one of the small airport restaurants. We sat in silence as we ate our freshly fried fish. This is the best junk food I've ever eaten. I'm never going so long without food ever again!
After we ate, we got our luggage and hailed another cab. This time, I was the one who spoke, seeing as Norge was still struggling to get his second suitcase into the trunk of the car. "Do you know where Hetalia Prep is?" Just saying that I'm going to a prep school makes me feel like a snob. I mean, trust Americans to come up with another fancy word that means 'high school'!
The cab driver's eyes widened when I told him our destination. He looked at me with a sudden wave of respect. I guess people respect those who can get into Hetalia Prep. "Of course I know where it is! But... but... I've never actually met someone who got into that school! Are you some kind of super genius, or are you just that rich?"
His questions sounded earnest, though I could have taken them to mean that he was mocking me. I curled the ends of my lips up just enough so that the man knew that I was attempting to smile and said, "Well, my brother is a genius. The administrations board practically begged him to go there. But he said he wouldn't go unless I got in, too. And no, we're not rich. He got a full scholarship there and he made sure I got the same. My brother... errrr... can be pretty persuasive." Just as I finished my explanation, Norge had finally succeeded in getting all of the luggage to fit into the trunk. He opened the door and slid in next to me.
"Next stop, Hetalia Prep!" the cab driver said, excitedly. He pulled away from the curb and sped towards our destination.
Our cab had left the San Francisco International Airport at 11:20 AM, but we didn't get to Hetalia Prep until 1:00 PM. I, again, slept the entire ride. I knew that Norge had slept, too, because I had to jab his ribcage with my elbow to wake him up as we pulled up to the front gate of the school.
Wow. This is nothing like the schools we have back in Iceland. The gate itself had two marble slabs that stood twelve feet into the air. Between the marble blocks was the most beautiful wrought iron gates that I'd ever seen. The swirls and twists and braids of the metal seemed so perfect that no human could have sculpted them. My mind was even more blown, though, when the gates opened for us and we drove past the small forest that stretched out on both sides of the gate. It was then, as we rounded a soft turn, that I could finally see the school.
Hetalia Prep was massive! The building was five stories tall, but I had a feeling that the school also extended underground, too. The whole building was made of beautiful bricks, stones, and marble. There were huge windows that dominated the walls, and the front steps were at least thirty feet wide and were made of solid marble. Ivy crawled up the surface of the school, which just added to the beauty and mystery that surrounded the building. There were tall trees lined up along all of the pathways that stretched around the school. In the center of the roof I could see a huge glass dome that was probably part of an observatory.
"That's amazing," the cab driver breathed as he stopped the car. We gave him our money and got our bags from the trunk. The cab left and we slowly walked to the front steps, taking in everything as we walked.
It's so warm here. I actually wish I wasn't wearing this coat. I stopped thinking about the weather, though, as we finished climbing the twenty or so steps and stood directly in front of the door. It was made of dark oak, and it was carved with intricate designs. It looked like a maze of woven lines and hidden symbols. "So... do we just go in?" I asked, intimidated by how prestigious this school looked.
"I guess so," Norge said in his usual, flat, voice. He pushed open the door and we stepped inside with our luggage.
I gasped when I saw the inside of the school; of our new home. "Norge, I don't think we're in Iceland anymore."
A/N: Here's chapter 1! I hope you liked it. I don't own Hetalia! Big thanks to walroose and Lycoris1305 for everything! Another HUGE thanks to Wisely-san, who helped me develop this story and who is always so supportive! Review, da? Please?