The Fangirl- Chapter 1

~Chapter 1~

Welcome to Your New Body

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view."

-Harper Lee, American Author
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Cycle 1: Monday

I groaned and tried to reach for the alarm clock. It was blaring some Lady Gaga song on full volume. I don't know about you guys, but listening to sex songs at seven o'clock in the morning is not the best way to get up. I hit the button and smiled when silence filled the room. I could sleep for another five or so minutes. It was only Monday.
It was Monday.

Shit.

I threw the blankets off of me and hurriedly started to get ready. I had to get ready for school, I had to-

Immediately, I was faced with a problem. "What the hell!" I screamed, terrified of the mirror in front of me. My reflection was a skinny, nicely endowed, African girl. She stared back at me with wide brown eyes and black hair pulled into low pigtails.

I screamed again. The image in my mirror screamed as well. This was wrong! I'm a pale ginger who burns easily in the sun- not a pretty black girl. Panting, I ran my hand through my hair. It was straight and as soft as silk. Mine was dry and curly-to-the-point-of-being-a-bird's-nest. I looked down at my hands and saw that they were black, not white. I opened my mouth to scream again.

"Do not scream." I paused, wide-eyed. There was someone else- a man -in this room. "I know that you are a little scared right now, but this is no time to scream." I didn't move. There was some strange man in my room. He was going to attack, rape, and then brutally murder me. Attempting gentleness, he urged, "Turn around and face me, Seychelles."

Wait, Seychelles? Why was he calling me by the name of an anime character? Well, I did look a lot like her. Everything from the eyes to height made me the perfect carbon copy. In fact, I could be the world's greatest Seychelles cosplayer.

I felt another wave of panic flush through me. No, no, this is wrong! What was going on? Why was I here? What in the world could I have done to deserve such punishment?

I looked back at the night before, trying to figure out what I did . . .
________________________________________

Real Word: Sunday

I sat at my laptop, drawing more fan art as I chatted with Bella through Skype. Bella Moon has been a friend of mine since, like, forever. She was a gorgeous blond who earned perfect grades while being captain of the soccer team. No joke, this girl was the very definition of perfect. If you went on to Urban Dictionary and searched 'Bella Moon', you would get 'the most perfect bitch that wastes her time with the ugliest of bitches.'

The 'ugliest of bitches' those jerks were referring to was me. I was just simply Sherry Sue. My hair was this long, tangly, and a disgusting orange color. It made the Pepto Bismol pink look appetizing. It probably was the reason why I loved to drink that crap anyways. But at least it shielded the world from my pimple-ridden and mostly-sunburned face.

Ahem, moving on.

I was just putting the finishing touches on France's amazing hair as Bella chatted away about the next con we were going to attend. ". . . I was thinking about cosplaying as Seychelles," she was saying. If she were to have a flaw, it would be her excessive ability to talk. My drawing music was just listening to her rant about her day. "I mean, I love her character and I cosplayed as Finland last year anyways so it is about time I did her."

I scowled and resisted the puissant urge to bash her. "Great idea Bell," I growled, adjusting the mike carefully. "You would make a perfect Seychelles." I didn't have a problem with her cosplaying as Seychelles- not at all. I just have a problem with the character herself.

I became a Hetalia fangirl two years ago and I have never looked back. There were merchandise and posters scattered strategically around my room. I loved everything about it- especially the "FrUk." France and England were just made for each other. Their old married couple chemistry perfectly displayed both of their characters to the fullest- France with his flirty ways and England with his cute, tsundere face. I never understood how people could like those other pairings like "Franada" or "UsUK". They just couldn't compete.

Then- of course -Bella started watching the series. Like me, she fell in love with everything about it. Like me, she researched everything there was to know about it. Like me, she read a million different fan fictions and drew millions of pieces of art.

Unlike me, her favorite paring was heterosexual. That's right; she loves the love triangle of France, Seychelles, and England. This all started sometime after she learned about the Gakuen Hetalia game. Apparently, there was something "incredibly true and lovable" about the "dynamics" of their relationships.

Complete bullshit.

I heard Bella sigh. "Sherry, I can tell you're lying," she said. Somehow she just always knew. "C'mon now, tell me the truth. I know you hate it." There was no point in trying to be the good friend; she knew.

"You know I hate Seychelles," I grumbled, pressing my stylist harder into my tablet. I was drawing a picture of France holding England amongst a dark field of blood-red flowers. "And besides, you're not even black. How can you cosplay as an African nation if you can't fit the part?"

Just as Bella started to say something about make-up, Mom knocked loudly on my door and invited herself in. My mom, Mary Sue, was also incredibly perfect.

Her orange hair was straight and complimented her flawless face perfectly. Plus she was skinny without even trying. Like seriously, she started every morning with a Jell-O Pudding cup and somehow managed to have a perfectly small waist.

Not to say that I was fat or anything. I just had a small pudge at my stomach and thick thighs. The doctor said I was still at a healthy weight, so I had no problem with it. Then again, my Wii fit board says the exact opposite. . .

Mom balanced a white laundry basket on her hip. "Just placing this on your bed," she said, maneuvering around the junk littering my floor. One of these days, I will clean it. But not now.

My mother glanced at my computer screen and noted my drawing. "That's a very good picture, Sherry," she said, placing the basket on my bed. She placed a hand on my chair and leaned on, giving me a good whiff of her floral perfume. "Is that France and England?" These were one of those moments when I had to admit that my mom is awesome.

She is an otaku. I didn't know how much she knew about Hetalia- she was more of a Full Metal Alchemist girl -but she respected my yaoi fangirl needs. Never questioned me when I asked her to critique my fan fictions or drive me to the nearest con. Yeah, she was that awesome. Unlike the little brats . . .

"Oh my God, is that more yaoi?" My brother, Larry, peeked his head into my room. His twin, Jerry, copied him, but said nothing. Well, speak of the devil, there they were. The only thing you had to know about them was that they looked like twelve year old versions of George and Fred Wesley. But they weren't half as funny or drop dead gorgeous. I bet Jerry could be if he tried, but he was off limits to girls.

Larry continued to huff, "Can't you be normal for once and like straight people?"

"Get out of my room," I snapped, hunching my back into the keyboard. Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out. . .

Larry stuck his tongue at me. If Mom wasn't in the room, then he would've given me the bird. "I'm not in your room," he taunted. "I'm in the hall."

"Larry. . ." My mom placed her hands on her hips and looked at them with disappointment. "Leave your sister alone," she ordered. "Didn't your father say that you had to be nice to her?" My dad, Gary Sue, was a traveling reporter. He was always seeing the world, writing about the latest war or natural disaster. More often than not he was never here.

The twin stuck his tongue at me again before storming away. Jerry gave him a wistful look and whispered, "I like it." Like the good brother he was, he trailed after Larry like an adorable, bashful puppy. I smiled to myself. Jerry was always so sweet and understanding.

Mom sighed and started to leave the room. "I think your drawing is very good," she said. "I hope those people on deviantArt appreciate the effort you put into it. Now if only I could get your brother. . ." She closed the door behind her, muttering about the twins.

Inside, I was nervously laughing. Three years ago, when I was thirteen, I watched "The Ouran High School Host Club" for the first time. You know how there were the twin brothers that pretended to be a couple to attract ladies? Well I thought it was very sexy and tried to get Larry and Jerry to be gay and incestuous towards each other. I succeeded with Jerry, but I accidently made Larry a homophobic.

Yeah, that was a family therapy session just waiting to happen.

"Sherry, are you still there?" I blinked and returned to my conversation with Bella.

"Yeah, I'm still here," I said. "The family just interrupted me."

I could hear her sing-song chuckle through the microphone. For the millionth time she joked,
"Sometimes I hate your mom. She is always a Mary-Sue." Do you know how many times I get that pun? It was lame the first time I heard it and it didn't get funnier every time afterwards.

Finished with my drawing, I saved it and started to log onto deviantArt. I drowned my voice in sarcasm as I pretended to laugh. "Ha, ha, very funny."

"Aw, Sher-Bear! It's just a joke."

"It's a terrible one."

"But it's so true!"

"Don't remind me."

"You're no fun."

"You're so annoying."

"That was mean."

"Well, I am a bitch."

"Watch your language!"

"Like I give a shit," I resorted. The sweet sound of her annoyed groaned met my ears. I loved annoying her. "Aw, Bel-Chell, cheer up!" I mocked.

Bella growled deeply, saying, "Why don't we change the subject? Like, why don't you like my Seychelles cosplay?"

I replied simply, "Because I hate Seychelles." I could hear her sigh. It sounded like the mellifluous voice of "Snow White." Geez, I hate that movie. So boring. "Tangled" is so much better. And Flynn Rider. Mmmm, he was sexy.

"Why do you hate her?" Bella asked. "There is nothing wrong with her character."

"She's a Mary-Sue. Absolutely perfect and stealing all of the Hetalia guys!" I explained. We went through the argument so often, I already knew her reply. Quickly, I prepared my counter arguments. I opened another tab to a Hetalia fan information website and looked at the common pairings list.

"She's not paired up with that many men," my friend resorted, a slight huff in her voice. In a boxing match, Bella stood in her corner of the ring, gloved hands raised."You only don't like her because she ruins you're 'FrUk.'"

I frowned. I pulled my gloves on and faced her, ready for the bloodshed. "That's one of the reasons. But I'm on the Hetalia Archives right now and you want to know who she's paired up with?"

I could hear her roll her eyes. "Here we go again-" She prepared herself to be hit.

I gave her a right hook to the face. "England, France, Japan, America, Italy, and Iceland."

"I have the same page up, Sherry," Bella returned. She caught my punch and twisted my arm painfully. "They took Iceland off the list." Damnit.

"Because there is no basis," I said. I yanked my arm away. I'm done with this fight. I pulled out my gun and just shot her face off. Ha, ha victory is mine. "None of those pairings have a good enough basis."

In a total cliché manner, Little Miss Perfect's voice lowered to a low rumble. "You better be careful Sherry," she warned. "One day, you're going to say the wrong thing and this is going to come back to bite you."

Groaning, I rubbed my eyes and uploaded the image. I quickly retorted, "I guess I should have forwarded those stupid chain mail messages." She started to say something, but I overlapped her. "Sorry Bella, gotta go. See you tomorrow." I ended the chat and smirked. She was going to kill me. But who was I to give a damn?

In the famous words of the Sassy Gay Friend, "She is such a stupid bitch."
________________________________________

Cycle 1: Monday

I shook my head. There was no way this was some form of karma. I bet that this is a dream or a prank crafted by Larry. No way I was stuck in an anime character's body. I snapped back to reality as the mysterious man spoke again, this time with impatience. "I said, turn around Seychelles." Perhaps, he would know what was going on.

Slowly, I did as I was told. Of course, I was not in my bedroom. All of my posters were missing and the floor wasn't strewn with clothes. These walls were a clean white and the pictures were that of heavenly vacation beaches. I could see an equally clean desk, closet, and bathroom. Sitting by the rectangular window stretching across the wall was the man.

He looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties. His skin was dark and his eyes were this amber color. His nearly black hair was hidden under a green hoodie, but I could still see a random curl sticking out from the back. Around his neck was a sparkling pink scarf that was more meant for Barbie than him. The man was handsome; I could not help but to stare.

"Took you long enough," he grumbled, his arms folded over his chest. "Do you even speak English?" I slowly nodded, unsure of what I should do. He pressed his lips together and stood. Like some sort of vulture (or pedophile), he circled me, examining every inch of my body. "You didn't damage the body," he noted. "That's good-"

"Who are you?" I demanded, shivering at my strange voice. My usual gruff voice was replaced by that of an angel's. Damn, I even sounded like Seychelles. "Where am I? What am I doing here?"

The man sighed and flopped back into his seat. "Of course you'll be confused," he muttered. "That jackass never explains anything." I noticed his quaint, foreign accent. Where was he from? Giving me a small smile, he extended his hand and introduced himself. "I am the Republic of Turkey."

He was what? I stared at him with wide eyes. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"I am not."

I felt another wave of panic. This was Turkey from Hetalia. The freaking personified nation. He looked exactly like him, seemed to act the way I expected him to, and sounded pretty Turkish. If this shit was real, then that means I really am in Seychelles's body.

Turkey frowned and lowered his hand. "Who are you?" he asked. "I would like to know who I am working with-"

"Working with!" For a moment, I was embarrassed at how panicky I was getting. Whenever there was a "fangirl-meets-cannon-character-story", they always were able to keep their cool. But no, I was freaking out more than a sugar-high Twilight fan. "Why the hell would I be working with you?" I demanded. "Why the fuck am I here? Why did I change fucking races?"

He stood, patting the air with his hands. "Alright, just calm down miss," he said, suddenly aware of his insensitivity. The nation placed a hand on my shoulder and eased me on the edge of the bed. Like a gentleman, he scooted his chair closer to me and held my hand. "We're going to take this one step at a time, got it?" Dumbly, I nodded.

Sounding like the therapist my brothers desperately needed, he asked, "What is your name?"

"S-Sherry Sue," I stuttered.

He nodded, patting my hand. "Okay Sherry." There was something oddly comforting about his voice. He really was trying to make sure I didn't have a heart attack or something. "You are here because some jackass wants you to understand what it means to be someone else," Turkey said, looking dead serious to me. I gave him a blank look. CrazyTurkishmansaywhat? Sighing, he tried again. "There is this jackass out there- I can't say who -but he wants you to be empathic towards Seychelles."

He had to be kidding me. "So I'm-"

"You're stuck here in her body until you can." He wasn't.

Stomach acids jumped up my throat. "Are you serious?" I asked. I still didn't believe him.

"Yes." I felt faint. Shit like this just doesn't happen. These kinds of things only happen in lame Hetalia fan fictions. There the OC is oh-so-perfect with her oh-so-perfect hair and her oh-so-perfect sex appeal. Just like the oh-so-perfect Bella.

Turkey inched a bit closer and squeezed my hand. "Do you understand Sherry?" he asked. "You're stuck here until you do what that jackass wants."

With that, I was terrified again. My hands were shakling and I felt all heat leave my body. Heistantly, I softly asked, "And what does he want?"

He sighed and struggled to find a way to explain it. "According to that jackass, you have to get one of two nations to kiss you," he said. "Kind of like in that mermaid movie."

I cocked an eyebrow. If he meant "The Little Mermaid", then that means . . . "A true love's kiss?" Turkey nodded, looking glad that I finally understood. "With who?"

And the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. "Either England or France." He had to be bullshitting me. None of this had to be real. If it was, then I was stuck in some universe where Hetalia is real. In this universe, I was being forced to be Seychelles- the very character I despised -and hook up with either France or England- the very pairing I loved. He must have found my multiple "FrUk" fan fictions and decided to torture me.

I fell back onto the bed and grabbed the pillow. "You've gotta be kidding me," I muttered. Smothering its fluffiness into my face, I added, "This is all just some screwed up dream."

Turkey groaned. "This is not a dream," he growled, easily annoyed with me. "All of this is real."

I threw the pillow at him. "Prove it." The next thing I knew, he was forcing me to sit up and open my mouth. He forced an uncapped bottle into my mouth. Sweet tasting apple juice alerted my senses and nearly choked me. Coughing, I forced him away.

"People don't taste anything in dreams," the nation explained. He was right. Never, in any dream I ever dreamt, had I tasted anything. Sure, we all feel pain, but taste just didn't happen. "All of this is real."At last, I believed him. Barely. Some little remote corner of my brain told me that this was all still a dream.

Either way, the sudden realization of my situation hit me straight on. I resisted trepidation and slowly processed everything. "So I'm really here, huh?" I nervously laughed. "Oh, splendid. Um, who did you say was behind all this?"

Obviously relieved at my acceptance, Turkey resumed his job of being the know-it-all. "I can't tell you," he said. "But just know that he's a jackass."

I think I knew who our antagonist was. Readily, I asked, "Is it someone named Bella Moon?"

It only made him confused. "Who?"

"I guess she's the good guy," I thought, secretly feeling relieved. It made the whole situation a lot better. Who would want their friend to be the bad guy? I nodded and asked again, "And all I have to do is get one of them to kiss me?"

At this point, he was starting to get annoyed. "A true love's kiss." That was easy. All I had to do was get Fra- Turkey growled, "And France having lustful sex with you does not count." Damnit! What was he, a freaking mind reader? I frowned "It has to be a true love's kiss. They-"

I completed, "Have to love me." I swore. "Damn, does this really have to be so cliché?"

For once, the man chuckled. "I didn't make the rules," he said. The tolling of church-like bells filled the air around us, reminding me of the world I was in. "School's going to start in ten minutes," Turkey said, motioning for me to get ready. "I'll explain a few more things as you get dress, alright?"

I turned a deep shade of red as he dragged me off the bed and to Seychelles's clothing. "I am not dressing in front of you!" I screamed, noticing for the first time that I was wearing a flimsy white night gown.

He continued to shove me towards my closet. "History Teacher Pangaea is not going to like it if we're late," he growled. "And what's wrong with dressing in front of me?"

"You're a guy!" I yelled, checking my (or I guess Seychelles's) closet. There were a few articles of casual clothes, but most of the hangars had the Gakuen Hetalia uniform on them. "I'm a girl! It's elementary!"

Turkey face palmed. Slowly pronouncing every word (as if I was some sort of idiot), he explained, "I. Have. A. Boyfriend."

I could literally hear the angels sing. Those words are the dream of every Hetalia fangirl. A canon character has a boyfriend. The yaoi is actually real! I squealed and turned to him excitedly. "Who is he?" I inquired, jumping up and down with anticipation. "Is it Greece? Egypt? Japan?"

I frowned when a disgusted look covered his face. "Ew, no!" He exclaimed. "Why would I want to date my friend and enemy?" My heart dropped. Unless it was Nyotalia Hungary, I had no idea who else he would date. Suddenly, a look of enlightenment came upon him.

I guess he knew ways to trick me, since he offered a proposal. "Sherry, if you get dressed right now and listen to everything I tell you, then I will tell you who my boyfriend is. Deal?"

Timidly, I turned away from him and pulled my dress off. My face was burning hotter than Arizona in the summer. Gay or not, I was not going to let him see me naked. "Deal." And yet I do it anyways. As I struggled to find my- Seychelles's -bra and pull the clothes over me, the man kindly looked away and rambled about our situation.

"Every country, by the order of our bosses, is attending this high school," he explained. "You and I have all the same classes together. No one but the two of us knows that this is going on, and we have to keep it that way."

He switched gears and started formulating my seduction strategy. "Every day after school, Seychelles would help England and France with their student council duties. The Brit is the president and the other one's the vice. It'll be the perfect time for you to win their hearts." He turned around and saw that I was completely dressed.

I wore the summer uniform: A red plaid jumper over a white blouse and a black tie. However, I had my knee high black socks rolled down and I was rubbing lotion on to my skin. Again, Turkey face palmed. "Sherry, what are you doing?" he demanded.

"I found Seychelles's lotion," I explained, pointing to a bottle on the desk. "It had shea butter in it and I just have to use it."

Something I said made him nervous. Habitually, he pulled out a gold pocket watch and glanced at the time. As the five minute bells rung, I wondered why he would have such an item on him. Himaruya never mentioned that in his character profile. "Shea butter?" he asked. "What is so special about shea butter?"

"I don't know!" I rolled up my socks and pulled on my shoes. "It's in every lotion you use, yet no one knows exactly what it is."

He gave me a blank look. "How do you not know what shea butter is?" he asked. "You have to be an idiot to not to."

A proposal of my own came to be. I smiled broadly at him and offered, "Hey Turkey, if I get this kiss would you find out for me what shea butter is?"

Said man took my hand, gave me my book bag, dragged me out of the dorm and down the hall. The halls were wide, lined with large windows on one side and wood doors on the other. The tan marble floor below us echoed our clicking feet. "Alright, fine," he said hurriedly. He picked up the pace to a quick jog. "We have less than one minute to get to class."

I stumbled behind him. Seychelles's feet were small and delicate. I was afraid that if I didn't watched every step I took, I was going to break them like glass. "Wait! But you didn't tell me-"

Just as the last bell tolled, Turkey stopped in front of a closed door. "Damnit," he cursed. "Late." For a moment, he straightened his blue plaid pants and fixed his hoodie and scarf. "Remember, no one knows about this except us, so I have to start calling you Seychelles now, got it?"

I nodded. "Sure, but can I call you Sadiq?" What? Every time I wrote fan fiction, I use their human names, not the nation ones. It was just weird calling a human being 'Turkey' over and over again.

He gave me a weird look. "Um, sure, but not in public." He stepped away from the door and motioned for me to go inside. "The teacher's name is History Teacher Pangaea and the period right now is obviously world history. I'll join you in a few minutes so that it doesn't look kinky, got it?" Wow, I never think that far ahead. At least I knew that the Turk was on my side.

I gave Sadiq a thumbs up and opened the door to the inside. Immediately, a stern but kind voice greeted me. "You're late Miss Seychelles." History Teacher Pangaea stood at a whiteboard, armed with an expo marker. She was a rather plump lady with tanned skin and long green-streaked-blond hair. Ocean like blue eyes regarded me from behind a pair of circular glasses.

I smiled uncertainly and scratched the back of my head. The classroom looked like a college lecture room. Stair-like levels rose above me in a circular shape. Long tables curved with them, each spot filled with an extremely handsome person. I stared at the class, studying the faces.

If this was a dream, then it was a damn good one.

If this was a joke, then these people were awesome cosplayers.

If this was real, then I died and went to heaven because these were the literal countries.

There was Japan, Lithuania, Finland, Russia, Cuba, Austria, and countless other characters. There was a majority (mostly the Latino and African countries) that I could not recognize. A bubble of joy welled inside of me. Oh my God, forget my panic attack earlier, this is freaking awesome!

"Miss Seychelles, would you kindly take your seat?" The teacher asked. Brought back to the real world, I rushed to the nearest empty desk.

It was right next to Estonia's (which, consequently, was right by Russia's). In real life, the Baltic state was rather plain looking. He had this bland blond hair and oddly colored violet eyes. His glasses did look hot though. I always had a thing for guys with glasses.

History Teacher Pangaea settled back into her lecture and continued on about the war of someone's ear. I caught something about England, but everything else entered one ear and exited the next. "What?" I breathed, giving a crazy look at the white board. She was writing in this thick cursive writing that I could not read.

"Having a problem Seychelles?" Estonia asked, typing the notes onto his laptop. He was completely engrossed with the screen; he didn't even bother to look at me. What a nerd.

You also probably look like that right now. I suggest you take a moment to rub your eyes and get a glass of water.

. . .

Refreshed now? Okay, good. Back to the action.

I nodded. "Yes. What is she even talking about?"

The blonde stopped typing and scooted his chair closer to mine. "It's the War of Jenkins' Ear," he whispered, loud enough for me to hear. "It was a conflict between England and Spain from 1739 to 1748."

As he spoke, I noticed a particular country with a sexy ass in front of me. Being higher up then him, I could easily see the roots of his dark. Spanish hair. Spain's back was slightly hunched and the aura he admitted was a rather embarrassed one. Wow, the first good look I get of the guy and he was depressed.

Surely a bad omen.

"Thanks," I said. I pulled out one of Seychelles's notebooks (how does she write so neatly?) and did my best to take notes. "Where is Sadiq?" I wondered, scribbling something about Georgia. I still had no idea what Pangaea was talking about. "Shouldn't he have made his entrance by now?"

Right on cue, the door swung open and my mentor came strutting in. He held his head high and had his hands buried in his hoodie's pockets. Tagging along with him was America, looking just as hot as the voice actor who voiced him (What? Eric Vale is drop dead sexy!). He was laughing at some joke, going about their merry way.

History Teacher Pangaea turned around and placed her hands on her hips. "Mister Turkey, Mister America; you're both late," She started, giving them the stink eye. I haven't seen that move since middle school. Even now it was terrifying. "Care to explain ourselves?"

Sadiq fingered the pink scarf around his neck and smiled. "I couldn't leave my room without this," he said. "My boyfriend would kill me." Wait a second. A pink, sparkly scarf? Does that mean-

"Like Turkey! You, like, totally care!" Sure enough, Poland stood in his seat and waved his hands around in the air excitedly. I immediately banged my head on my desk. Not because he was wearing the girl's uniform with bright pink accessories (I actually expected that).

"TurkeyXPoland" is a crack pairing! Like all crack pairings, it does not make any freaking sense! Why would a competitive Turkish man love an energetic crossing-dressing Pole? Does not compute!

I felt Estonia nudge my shoulder. "Seychelles, is something wrong?" he asked.

Groaning, I lifted my head and glared at him. I bluntly asked him, "Since when was Turkey dating Poland?"

Violet eyes blinked and gave me an odd look. "They've been a package for a few months," he explained. "Everyone knows that."

"Of course." I scowled and felt my mood sour. "Just when he admits to being gay too." I sluggishly straightened myself up and regained my composure, saying, "Right. And I suppose 'Spamano' is nonexistent here too."

"What's 'Spamano'?"

I mentally cursed to myself. That's right; no one here knows that they are part of a Japanese fandom. I laughed and tried to cover up, but the look on the nation's face ordered me not to. "It's what I call Spain and Romano," I said sheepishly. "When they're... you know... a couple."

Estonia's face grew wide with disgust. "How can you say that?" he demanded. "You know he-" Another, more obnoxious voice cut him off.

America, trying to explain his tardiness, yelled, "But there's no point in us learning history!" It seemed as though there was a spotlight shining down on him, making him the center of attention.

Our teacher pressed her lips together. "You may have experienced it, but we do not want you to repeat it," she said testily. Years of training made her not immediately give up on the idiot. "We wouldn't want another World War, or perhaps another War of Jenkins' Ear." Only a teacher would tie their scolding in with the lesson they were giving.

America shoved a hamburger (where in fudge's name did he get that?) into his mouth. Masticating loudly, he defended, "But if we really want to learn history, we could just look at each other's facebook pages!"

The bell rang, signaling the end of our class period. "Detention for one hour," she ordered, jabbing her expo marker at him. The class stood and gathered their books together, ready to migrate to the next classroom. I shoved all of my notebooks into my light blue bag and quickly ran to meet up with Sadiq.

I pushed through the crowd of nations, trying to find him. I did not want to be alone here. I could be attacked and raped. By Canada! Yeah, it was that dangerous! Though, I did take a moment to slap Spain's ass. Hey, if you were there, you would have done the exact same thing (don't try to deny it).

Eventually, I found my Turkish mentor in the hallway, affectionately talking to Poland. They held hands and laughed at some joke they were sharing. I stopped dead in my tracks. "What in the world . . ." There was an undoubtedly happy look in both their eyes.

Someone banged into my back, causing me to stumble forward a few steps. "Hey!" I exclaimed, turning around to face him. "Watch where you're-" My voice fell dead. Standing before me was a teenager, barely reaching my height. He had pale blond hair and piercing blue eyes. There was a crucifix hanging from his neck. He looked so much like. . .

"I'm sorry," he apologized in a thick German accent. "I just needed to give Germany something an-"

I pointed my finger directly at him. "You're Holy Rome!" I yelled, feeling giddy all over. When he nodded, I immediately swooped down and hugged him. "You're so cute~!" I squealed, collapsing into a fangasm. Bella owed me ten bucks- "Germany = HRE" theory was so not real. "You came back! This is so cool! You're probably hooked for Italy, right?" I looked at him with expecting brown eyes.

Holy Rome gave me a crazy look, as if to say 'where have you been for the past few years'? There was a nervousness in his voice when he clarified, "Uh, no I didn't." My heart dropped. If he didn't come back for Italy, then who? My answer came soon enough.

"Holy Rome!" Russia filled the space around us as he loomed happily over us. His height made him more intimidating than scary. "Where have you been, comrade?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. "I have something I want to give you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag filled with gold cookies. "I made you beer cookies!" He announced. "You like them, da?"

The blond delicately took the package in his hands, admiring it like it was a long lost treasure. What the hell? "Oh Russia, it's perfect," he sighed. I wanted to barf. I did not order a fluff moment with extra cheese. "But-" He reached into his own bag and pulled out a tin container. "-I made you cookies as well. Vodka flavored." Oh. My. God. Another crack pairing? "RussiaXHolyRome"? What the bloody hell?

Before I could witness any more of the mind scarring scene, Sadiq kissed his boyfriend's cheek, sent him off in the opposite direction, and came to my rescue. He took my arm and dragged me away, saying, "Get your head back together, Seychelles. You've ought to have seen this many times before."

"No I haven't!" I exclaimed. "That was a crack pair-" Sadig slammed a hand over my mouth and motioned for me to be quiet. He glanced around us before discreetly pulling me into the nearest room. AKA: The boy's bathroom.

As I stood awkwardly inside(how are the urinals so clean? If guys had to aim to use them, I would think that they would be a lot dirtier), Sadiq locked the door and checked the stalls. "Are you trying to tell the world about our problem, Sherry?" He demanded, looking not that pleased with me. "You just can't talk about relationships as if they're some work of fiction."

In my defense, I believed he was overreacting. There was nothing wrong with me referring to couples as 'pairings'. I mean, if I was walking down the hall and sudden heard someone yell "Sherry and Bella would make a terrible pairing!" I would think nothing of it. Scratch that, I would be wondering why they thought I was a lesbian. And then I would wonder why they used the word 'pairing'. A normal person would say 'couple' . . .

I just proved myself wrong, didn't I?

Damnit.

"But this is a fictional world," I defended. "Everyone here is the result of some Japanese dude's obsession with history."

Sadiq's face looked like a mixture between confusion and shock. "Really? That's kind of-" He stopped and growled at me. "Don't get me off topic!" he ordered. "The fact is that you nearly ruined everything!"

I heaved an exasperated sigh. "But it's Holy Rome and Russia! They're complete opposites! How are they a couple?"

He groaned and threw his arms up in the air. "I don't know! Love works in strange ways? Heart before matter? Opposites attract? Take your pick!"

I crossed my arms and glared at him. "Well if opposites attract, Prussia and Austria better be having regular sex." The school bells sounded, telling us that we were late to class.

Sadiq smacked his forehead and muttered curses in his native language. He sounded ready to kill me when he told me that "That's not possible. Austria's with Latvia and Prussia's a straighty."

"Whatever." I adjusted the straps to my bag and unlocked the door. "I'm outta here." Just when I had the door completely swung open, my mentor ordered me to come back. I ignored him and marched forward. It wasn't until I was down the hall did I realize that I had no idea where or what my next class was.

I stomped my foot in fustration. Shit. I sat my bag on the ground and empty the contents. That stupid bitch better have kept a class schedule somewhere. I was flipping through my fifth notebook when I noticed someone running down the hall, shouting at me.

"Seychelles!" A gruff voiced yelled. Immediately, I recognized the nation. It was Germany- freaking Germany -looking as happy as an emotionally constipated German could. He slowed a bit and waited until there was barely a yard between us before asking, "What in the world have you been doing? You should be in class right now."

I gave a nervous laugh and tried to think of some lie. If someone was viewing this scene in anime format, there would be one of those sweat drops on the back of my head. "I, umm. . ."

The freakishly tall man knelt next to me and started to gather my stuff. "I also didn't see you this morning for, er, breakfast," he rambled, neatly stacking them in his hands. There was a light blush on his cheeks. "I-I thought something was wrong."

Why the fudge was the German so concern about my- Seychelles's -well being? Last I checked, they barely had any interaction in the game. Nonetheless, the series! Why was he getting so worked up?

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, hastily shoving all my belongings into the bag. "I was busy! Well look at the time, I better get going! See ya!"

Germany grabbed my arm. "Wait!" He gently pulled me close and stared at me. There was gloss of desire and love in his eyes. Perfect to the mood, he pressed his lips against mine. It was soft and sweet, like ice cream. I felt my world dramatically tilt as my head begin to uncontrollably spin. So he loves Seychelles.

"That explains why he cared so much,"I thought, feeling my face burn up. That was my first kiss. I guessed I was caught in another one of those crack pairings.

Slowly, the man pulled away and smiled down at me. His blue eyes shone with such unfathomable affection, it made my heart jump. I looked up at him with a shine to my (Seychelles's) brown ones. For a moment, we did nothing else but just stare at each other.

Then I fainted.

________________________________________

Cycle 1: The Room

Turkey was back in the Room. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was color this bland white color. It was glossed, making him stare back at his face no matter where he looked.

Besides himself—strangely dressed in a starchy white shirt and slacks—there was the equally white chair he was sitting in and an equally white door. He had given up many visits ago in trying to open it. He was trapped in this void of white.

Like always, a voice from nowhere started to speak. "Welcome back Turkey," it said, coming from nowhere in particular. "Do you like your new partner?"

He shrugged. "She's weird," he said, folding his arms over his chest. During the time he was left waiting, he was able to decide on the exact words he was going to say. This time, he was going to get his answers. "But why would you choose her?" he asked. "She's not necessarily your type."

Turkey could hear the Voice smirked. "I'm just killing two birds with one stone," it said. "Surly you have no problem with that."

"Of course I don't." Although he did not show it, the Turk was grumbling. "He sacked me with someone incapable," he thought. "He's making sure I fail."

A foreboding presence appeared behind him, darkening the atmosphere. He shivered, but stubbornly looked ahead. The glossy white walls reflected a dark, undefined figure behind him. It was the Voice—it decided to materialize again. It leaned in and pressed it's cold cheek to his. Still, Turkey stared ahead. "Don't think such depressing thoughts," it whispered, dancing its breath over his skin. "I want you to have a chance."

The man blinked. "Why would you want that?" he demanded.

"Because, I know you'll lose," the Voice said. "I just want there to be a little competition."

There was a flash and Turkey was laying on the tiled floor of the boy's bathroom. "Damnit." He stiffly lifted himself off the ground. How long did the Voice keep him this time? The minute Sherry ran away from him, he found his conscious stuck in the Room. There was no sense of time there—he could have been out for hours.

Turkey hated it. He just needed out of that stupid contract. If that girl didn't get that kiss, he was screwed.

And the Voice knew it.

________________________________________

Cycle 1: Monday

Slowly, I opened my eyes. By the look of it, I was in the school infirmary. The bed I was lying in was lined with stiff white sheets and was rather uncomfortable. Groaning, I sat up and placed a hand on my head. I had the worst headache in the world. It was as if I just spent a ten hour car trip with Larry. Not fun.

"Oh! You're up!" Running from the other side of the room was History Teacher Pangaea, dressed in the stereotypical white nurse outfit. She flounced about, placing a gloved hand on my forehead. "How are you feeling dear?"

"Fine," I mumbled. I gave her an odd look. "Why are you here History Teacher Pangaea?"

She laughed as though I told the greatest Dane Cook joke in the world. God, I love that guy. He is so funny. . . "I'm not History Teacher Pangaea, dear," she chirped, checking a clipboard by my bed. "I am Nurse Pangaea."

I gave her a confused look. "What-"

She rambled on without me. "And it looks as though you are fine so you can leave if you want; just take it easy dear, okay?" I took it as a signal to get out of there. I climbed out of the bed and slung my bag over my shoulder. Nurse Pangaea looked up at me and gave an 'oh' sound. "I nearly forgot!" she babbled. "There were two men who came looking for you!"

I wanted to groan. I had a pretty good feeling I knew who these men who. Like some gossipy teenage girl, she leaned in and whispered, "One of them was really buff and wanted you to see him right after you get out-" That one sounded a lot like Germany. "-The other just cracked up laughing." And that sounded like Sadiq.

"Thanks," I grinned, inching my way towards the door. "I'll keep that in mind . . ."

The woman made an overly exaggerated winking motion. She asked, "Been sneaking around now, haven't we?" Was she implying that I was a slut? Well since I was in Seychelles's body, you could say that she was saying that about the nation, not me.

I had the sudden, puissant urge to glomp her. I was not the only one to think that way about her!

Instead, I smiled and ran as quickly as I could out of there. The second I exited into the hallway, I ran into an awfully familiar green hoodie. Of course, Sadiq was waiting for me outside. The very second he saw me, guess what he did?

He cracked up laughing.

"Shut-up," I growled, feeling sore all over again. "It's your fault."

The Turk wiped a few tears from his eyes and regained his lost breath. "You fainted right after being kissed," he chuckled, looking ready to roar again. "How is that my fault?"

I pointed a finger at him. "You didn't tell me that Sey-" I corrected myself. "I had a boyfriend," I accused. I swore, if he started to laugh again, I was going to bitch slap him to ''Cat-Dog". Remember that show? No one does.

Lucky for him, the laughing stopped and he gave me a serious look. "I thought I told you," he said, digging around in his pockets. He pulled out his golden pocket watch and checked the time. "School ended about ten minutes ago," he stated, completely changing the subject. "That means the only thing you have left to do today is help France and England in the student council room."

A wave of nervousness flooded me. Operation Seduction was about to start. How the hell was I supposed to seduce either of them to the point of actually loving me? I wasn't a freaking Disney princess! I couldn't just go all 'oh, save me sexy man' and have some dude in tights climb up the tower and rape my sleeping lips (I just ruined your childhood, didn't I?).

Sadiq sensed my dread and gave me a pleasant smile. Rather happily, he gave me a small piece of advice: "Don't worry. Just remember: when they say 'hello', do not faint." He roared with laughter again. I slapped him.

Rubbing his cheek, he muttered something about me being a jackass before beckoning me to follow him. As we walked, I stared out the huge windows to the outside courtyard. There, many other nations were gathered, talking and joking like normal people.

They don't even realize that some obsessive fangirl is possessing one of their fellow's body. If they ever did, I could imagine Spain going all 'inquisition' on me. He'll hold up a cross and yell "The power of Christ repels you, demon!" repeatedly until he loses too much oxygen and faints.

"I now have the sudden urge to see that," I thought. I bet if I publish that on fan fiction or something, it'll be an instant hit. And I could get my own TV Tropes page. Man, how I love TV Tropes-

"Turkey!" Both of us stopped dead in our tracks as someone behind us came jogging up. I sighed. I hoped this person didn't have some sort of secret affair with Seychelles or else I would slit my wrists and let the damn slut die. Hey, maybe if I do that, I would be out of this body for good!

Suicide is now a reasonable answer.

I shrieked when a bullet shot right past my ear. In return, my eardrums shattered painfully, giving me an instant headache. "Who the hell carries a gun around with them?" I'll tell you: Switzerland.

That's right, wearing those ridiculous pajama pants was the handsome blond, wielding a shiny machine gun in one hand and a pink slip in another. His green eyes were ablaze as he marched up to us. "Do you know what this is?" he demanded, waving the pink slip in Sadiq's face.

My mentor regarded it nonchalantly and shrugged. "It's a truancy slip," he said. "What else would it be, jackass?"

Switzerland scowled and slammed it onto the ground. "Yes it is. This is the tenth one this month. Principle Pangaea asked me to tell you that if you don't get your attendance back up, you are going to be banned from the school prom. Any questions?"

I raised my hand. Immediately, Sadiq face palmed as the Swiss barked, "What?" He did not look very happy.

I laughed nervously, thinking, "Shit, maybe this wasn't such a good idea." He only proceeded to look more pissed. Right, my question. "Why do you care?" I asked. "Aren't you always neutral?" Somewhere in the universe, a fellow fangirl is glorifying me for pointing that out.

The nation looked down at me. "In case you haven't forgotten, this is how I stay neutral," he said (later Sadiq would explain to me that Principle Pangaea allows him to skip all of his classes if he would handle stuff like this for him. Normally, he would have said "hell with that, I do whatever shit I want" but the older brother had to give a good example to Liechtenstein, so he kindly accepted. Later, everyone but himself would realize how fitting the job was).

Switzerland scrutinized me for a second longer before adding, "And you had a tardy today, Seychelles. You keep that up and you'll be joining him, got it?" Crap, scary.

I felt myself shrink back behind Sadiq, who was already taking a step in front of me. "Are you done now, jackass?" he asked irritably. "We both have better things to waste our time on."

"Who says I wanted to be here anyways?" the other sneered. He gave a huff and strutted away, saying something about how much of a jerk the Turk was.

We silently watched him go. If I remembered Turkey's character profile correctly, then he wanted to be friends with Europe. So why was he such obvious enemies with Switzerland? I looked up at him, about to ask him that, when I noticed his eyes.

There was a sad, melancholy shine in them. They looked at the blonds retreating figure, yearning for something I could not place. "I'll ask him later," I decided as I nudged the hoodie's sleeve.

He looked at me and remembered where he was and who he was with. "That was annoying," he stated, covering up whatever he was feeling. Forcing a grin, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me further. "Come on, we're late as it is."

I looked behind me, still thinking about the Swiss man. In this strange universe, he was pretty much a bully. A hot one at that, but still a complete jerk face. "You should tell the principle," I said. "Switzerland shouldn't be allowed to do that."

Sadiq released a long sigh. "Principle Pangaea wouldn't care," he said. "She has better things to worry about."

I frowned. "Why is Pangaea also the principle?" I demanded.

I received the most puzzled look on the face of the planet. "What do you mean?"

"Why is Pangaea, our history teacher, also the school nurse and principal?"

For a moment, he didn't say anything. Rather grudgingly, he ordered me not to worry about it. "Just go with the flow," he said. "Half the jackasses here aren't even worth the trouble anyways." I bet that what his therapist tells him (insert winky face).

One staircase and three halls later, we arrived at the door of the student council room. Like all the other doors were, it was a dark wood with a frosted window. I could hear soft voices on the other side, but nothing else. My "FrUK" fangirl imagination told me that they were having a private conversation about their romantic future. . . naked.

I shook my head and ousted the thought. "No Sherry, they are not a couple here," I scolded. If I could ignore whatever my yaoi needs demanded, then this should be half as challenging. In fact, it would make a lot more sense if they were giving each other the silent treatment.

Sadiq took a few paces away from the door and motioned for me to enter. Strongly, I gripped the knob and gave him a confident smile. "Just keep your eye on the prize." I swung the door open and took one step inside. "What's the worst that could happen?"

England and France were kissing.