The next morning (I'm calling it morning because it technically is, despite the fact that it's five am) I'm roughly awoken by the phone ringing loudly. I groan, get up and then go downstairs, cursing loudly. I pick up the phone. Whoever this is, I'm going to kill them.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Hey, Deitich!" Oh shit. Why is America calling me?

"Um... Hi?"

"I just wanted to ask, have you considered the party yet? Because I really would like you to come."

"America, it's five am."

"But have you?" Oh great. Why does he sound anxious?

"Um, ja, kinda. I suppose..." I sigh. "Ja, I'll come."

"All right! You won't regret it, Deitich!"

I sincerely hope not.

"Anyway, I was wondering, are you busy today?"

"Um... Kinda, why?" What's he getting at?

"I was wondering, would you like to go out for a coffee or something?"

"O-oh... I don't know... I mean, I've kinda got some stuff on... Maybe another day?"

"Oh.... Ok...." He sounds so disappointed. Fuck. That's the last thing I wanted.

So, to try and make the poor guy feel better, I stupidly say," Maybe another time, though?"

"Oh, awesome!" Mental note: he appears to be turning into Prussia.

"Ok, well, see you soon," I say.

"Bye!" he exclaims happily and hangs up.

Wow. What the hell was that about? I don't think America's said two words to me before he gave me the invitation to his Christmas party, so why is he suddenly acting like I'm his best friend? I rub my eyes and look at the clock. It is far too early to be thinking about something like this. At least, alone.

Next thing I know, I'm on the phone to Hungary, hoping she'll pick up. Thank god, she does.

"Hey," I say.

"Deitich? Is that you?"

"Ja...."

"Why in the name of all that is holy are you calling me at this ungodly hour?" Wow. That sounded angry.

"I need help."

"Unless some other crazy person has knocked you out with a lead pipe and taken you to their house, I'm not interested."

"No, it's America!"

"Huh?" That gets her attention.

"America invited me to his Christmas party the other day, and he just called me asking if I'd like to go out for coffee sometime."

"What? What did you say?"

"I said I wasn't sure. After all, I don't really know him very well."

Hungary sighs. "What is it with you and guys throwing themselves at your feet?"

"Huh?"

"France flirts with you constantly, Russia seems pretty interested and now America's asking you out for coffee! Honestly, Deitcih, just pick one!"

"But I don't like France, Russia's kinda weird and I don't even know America," I protest.

"Still. Anyway, I'm going back to sleep now, good luck." She hangs up.

Oh great, what am I going to do now? I deliberate, trying to figure out who I should talk to. Hungary's a great friend and all, but she doesn't really get all this guy stuff. I mean, she spent most of her childhood thinking she was a guy, so I guess it's hard for her to do this.

Then it hits me. Poland. Why on earth didn't I think of him before? He's probably my second best friend, but I haven't seen him much recently. I think is because I've been kinda stressed out reverently.

I can't go to his place yet, though. It's not even six yet, and I'm actually quite tired. So I get back into bed and try to get back to sleep. Needless to say, I utterly fail. I can't stop thinking about America. And then Russia suddenly appears in my head.... So I'm just thinking about these guys right now.

I roll over and close my eyes. God, why did America have to call me so early? What is wrong with him? Is he just so obnoxious that he demands to inconvenience everyone around him? Let's just say that I'm not exactly America's biggest fan right now.

Finally, when the clock on my bedside table reads 09:46, I roll out of bed and get dressed. I put on my white blouse and my little red skirt, put on white knee socks and black shoes, and then brush my white-blonde hair into bunches, tied with red ribbon. I know, I guess I look kinda like little girl, but I don't really care. I'm quite small and, well, weak in stature, so there's no point pretending otherwise.

I look in the mirror and sigh. I do look like a schoolgirl. But I can't be bothered to try and change my appearance. Every time I do, everyone acts weird around me for a while. Namely, my brothers. Prussia usually asks me what was wrong with my old look, and Germany gets nostalgic about when I was a little kid. Geez. I mean, no offence to my brothers, I love them and everything, but it's annoying when they still treat me like a child. I'm not even that much younger than Germany.

But they can't help it. I was taken from them at such a young age, and while I grew to like England, I know neither of them ever forgave him.

England.... It's been so long since I've properly talked to him. Like we used to. He's ok with me now, but....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Deitich! Again! We're not going to stop until you can do this right." England hands me the sword after disarming me yet again, frowning. I take it, nearly weighted down with the heavy weapon. I don't know why he can't give me a smaller or lighter one, but I don't dare to argue.

"Ja, England," I say meekly, struggling to hold it up. He stops and pulls my arm up roughly. I wince.

"Not like that, hold it up properly. You're never going to get anywhere with it drooping on the ground like that."

"I'm, sorry, it's just..." I bite my lip, not daring to go on.

"What is it?"

"It's too heavy. I can't hold it up properly."

England softens slightly. "Why didn't you say, silly? You're not going to be able to do anything with a sword that's not right for you. Here." He shows me a smaller one, and puts it in my hands. "Is that all right?"

I nod, weighing it in my hands. This one's much lighter. "Thank you."

"Ok, so again!" He holds up his sword. "Ready?"

"Ja." I swing the sword at him, and he blocks me easily.

"No, not like that. Don't swing, try and slice, like this." He holds his sword up and slices in the air, making swishing noises.

"Oh. Ok..." I try again, but he shakes his head and sighs. "Sorry, England," I say, looking at the floor in shame. I should be able to do this. Why can't do this?

"It's ok.... I shouldn't expect you to be good at everything, that's ridiculous. Anyway, you haven't been learning long." He ruffles my hair. "I keep forgetting you're still little."

"Ok. So what now?" I ask.

"God knows. Anyway, it's getting late. Are you hungry?" I wince again. England's place is pretty cool, but damn, the food is pretty bad. However, I've never told him that, he'd be hurt. And I actually quite like England, I don't want to upset him.

I nod. "Ja. Thank you very much."

He nods, pleased with me. He's been teaching me good manners and English as well as fighting techniques, and while I've not been very promising in the latter, he's happy with my manners and my English. At least I'm good at something.

"So, what would you like to eat?"

"Hmmm....." I rack my brains, trying to think of the nicest dish he makes. It's hard. "Sausages and mash?" I ask.

"Of course!" He's smiles at me and we walk home. But I'm tired, and he can tell that I'm dragging my feet a little. "Are you ok?"

"Ja... I'm just a little tired, that's all."

"Come on, then." He picks me up and gives me a piggyback. I laugh happily and cling on tight, and he runs all the way back with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I smile and open my eyes again. Those were good times, times of peace, when the most I had to worry about was learning English and trying to control a sword. Back then, I didn't really know why England was training me from such a young age.

But I know now. He was trying to prepare me for the real world, one of blood and war and hardship. That was why he trained me and made me learn to fight when I was still a kid. He didn't want me to face troubles later in because he'd been too soft on me.

Yeah, well, that didn't really turn out too well. I can fight quite well now, I've got a small but strong army, but I'm having a lot of trouble actually running the country.

Why does this all have to be so hard?