"Hey Arthur, wait up!"

I turned around to see Paris's blonde hair swinging around as she barreled through the halls of our high school, her backpack bouncing heavily against her back. I could never quite grasp the concept of how she ran in her red six-inch heels, but that actually is one of her less strange qualities. She stopped her sprint right next to me, panting.

"So are you going to walk me to my class?" She asked, playing with her hair innocently. Today she was in her form of 'casual' clothes, which meant a poodle skirt and a black and white striped top. Her shoes and her lips were about the same hue of fire engine red, and her blush came rather close as well. Her eyelashes seemed longer than usual, meaning she had used extra mascara, which is not all too surprising.

"Mine is the whole way across the school, so maybe later," I said, hoping to get out of one of her outrageous requests.

She gave me a mock pouty face. "But that's what boyfriends do!" She argued, tugging my arm down to her end of the hall, but I shook my hand away. I remembered a month ago when I thought she was cute and sweet, mainly because she was. However, once we began dating she became almost a new person entirely. Whereas before she seemed to shine for herself, now everything she wore was trying to impress me. Little things she used to do on rare occasions began to pronounce themselves more, mostly in a bad way. Now I had to remind myself why I dated her just to keep myself from going insane.

"I'll see you at lunch!" I replied, turning around to end our conversation. I began weaving my way through the thick crowd that was beginning to gather in the hallways, being that it was 7:30. I grunted as a backpack was shoved into my side and a body slammed into mine. It was my own standards that required me to get here on time, but sometimes I really wanted to change them. Unfortunately, it was one of the rules my general of a father had scoured in my brain since I could talk.

My feet eventually came to a stop at the door of my first period, Biology. I sighed, not really wanting to enter. Every day the teacher, Mrs. Nelson, would come up with some awkward topic and some hands on work to go with it. I shuddered, glad that our break began tomorrow.

I sat down in the front row in the mostly full classroom and began to unpack my bags. I silently cursed Paris for making me be one of the last students here. I could feel dozens of eyes on me as I attempted to organize my binder like a normal person. I felt chilled, remembering why I always came in early.

Soon enough Mrs. Nelson came inside the classroom, the door closing behind her with a slam. As she walked down the aisles, her heels clicked rhythmically on the lacquered floor. She was dressed in a proper autumn colored business skirt and overcoat, a white button-down to compliment her ivory heels. Drooping from her ears were two golden disk shaped earrings that looked as if they were to heavy to keep upright. Once she might have been beautiful, but age had given her sunspots and wrinkles on her pale skin. Her shoulder-length hair was a thin ashy brown, with a few prominent streaks of grey that highlighted her age. I could tell that she was wearing makeup to cover up her blemishes, but it didn't seem to be working.

She stopped at the pale wooden desk next to mine that belonged to Italia, but now had nobody in it. I sighed. She would be in any minute, spouting excuses for her tardy faster than a fountain. However, I had found out she was up nightly texting Dutch, her crush, until about three a.m.

Sure enough, before Mrs. Nelson could plop down at the maple desk and begin lecturing us on some other strange bodily functions, the door burst open. However, it wasn't Italia, but the principal. The girls at the back of the room stopped giggling and put up their phones for once in their lives as he walked down the aisle. However, his gaze never strayed from the teacher, who had gone paler than usual. If that was even possible.

They talked in hushed voices behind her desk, too quiet for me to hear. But from their motions and tones of voice, I could tell neither of them liked it. What they were talking about however, was a secret just for them. For all I knew, they might be talking about their undercover relationship. I shuddered at the thought.

To my relief, the principal quickly exited the room, and phones came out once again. Mine buzzed from my backpack and I picked it up tenderly, turning it on. The home screen popped up with a picture of me and Paris two years ago, when we visited her namesake. I remember the amazing view from the top, with all the lights beginning to sparkle as the sun went down. I frowned, also remembering that Paris had left me out there to go to the gift shop. A text popped up from Saki, who waved at me when I turned around. Her coffee colored hair was in a ponytail to the side, her amber eyes sparkling with mischief as she pointed to her phone, then to me.

Her text read; What was that about?

I shrugged back before replying; Not sure. Maybe secret relationship?

She gave a laugh that was entirely too loud before texting me back three smiley faces. I rolled my eyes as Mrs. Nelson banged on the desk with a ruler, turning the heads of the whole class. Except for me. A head had appeared at the smudged glass window, staring at me over Saki's right shoulder. I couldn't make out much more than her outline though, which was thin with light hair framing her face. As for gender, I assumed it was a girl, but she could've been a guy who needed a cut.

My phone buzzed again from Saki; What r u looking at?

I didn't text back as the teacher began to talk in her scratchy voice. " So class..." She began, trailing off strangely. I frowned. She was always so quick to the point about awkward topics, so why was she so worked up about this one? I glanced back, looking for the girl again, but she was gone. Saki mouthed a few words that I would rather not repeat, so I turned back around.

"We have a new student, and she will be attending class after our break ends!" Mrs. Nelson finished, adding in artificial enthusiasm, which is very unlike her. Every single odd thing your body does is explained with great vigor and excitement. This mellow woman is the complete opposite.

The door opened with an audible creak, and the class turned as a whole when the girl stepped in the room. She was certainly feminine, sporting dirty blonde hair that fell to the middle of her back that swirled under the vents. Her face was small and almost heart-shaped, her skin a light tan as if she had just come from the beach. The clothes she wore matched, being they were a white tank top and jean shorts. Large combat boots finished her outfit, matching the color of her hair. The way she dressed seemed very foreign, but I guess I couldn't say that, being Paris's boyfriend. And then my gaze settled on her eyes.

When I was little, my mother once told me that the eyes were the window to the soul. And for this girl, I believed it to be true. Her grey-green eyes seemed to search through every person in the room, surveying them, not darting around the room like most new students. As she began to slowly walk to the front of the class, her footsteps the only sound in the room, her eyes fell on me. It felt like my mind was being drawn into a world of colors and emotions, as if I was hypnotized. I shook my head, looking away swiftly, but not before noting Saki's smirk from behind the girl.

I was about to text something very un-gentleman like to the brunette, but then the mystery girl cleared her throat, drawing the attention to the front of the class. Seconds ticked by in the dead silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

"My name is America, and I'm new in England." The girl, 'America' said swiftly, as if she had memorized part of a speech. Her voice was strangely carefree, moving up and down with each word she said. It was almost like a song, her words flowing smoothly. I frowned. I had never known anybody in my recent memory with that tone of voice. I added that to the list of things that stuck out of me, which was beginning to grow long.

"Where are you from? Ireland?" Shouted a kid from the back of the room. Mrs. Nelson, growled, preparing to give him a lecture over proper etiquette, but America cut her off as she began talking once again.

"Actually, I'm from New York City in America, hence the name," The blonde smiled, earning a laugh from the class along with a few gasps. Americans were almost a rarity at our school, being that most students came from nearer countries to get here. The other kids crowded closer, looking her up and down curiously as if she were a specimen from the science lab.  I shrugged, pretending to be unimpressed, despite the fact I was. My father used to take me everywhere the army took him before he had retired to the couch. However, I had never been to the Americas because my dad hated it, saying that the countries over there were irresponsible, improper and foolish.

Against everything my father had taught me though, this girl was not a fool. I could see from the way she spoke as the crowd gathered around her, answering every question they threw at her with ease. America was certainly not stupid, but I could see where he got improper from, judging by her clothes.

I just frowned at my feet which were poking out from under the desk, and tapped my pinky finger. I glanced over at the ring that resided on my smallest finger. It was a little silver trinket from a Vietnamese market, or at least that was what my father told me. It had rusted slightly in the last eight years, but still held the original sparkle. A small vine-shaped pattern laced around the circle, engraved with the words Forever and After.

"That's enough class!" Mrs. Nelson shouted, shooing the group away from America, who waved goodbye to a few select people, a smile on her face. However, now that I was closer to her, I noticed slight bags under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in a few days. The smile she had put on was clearly forced, now fading away into more of a grimace. Strangely, as she began to weave through the aisles to leave, she still stopped to talk to everyone, including me.

" Hey Arthur, I guess I'll see you soon." She said simply. While she talked, her eyes seemed to light up slightly until she was no longer forcing a smile.

I felt slightly uneasy. "How do you know my name?"

She seemed taken off guard for a second before replying, " Saki told me. Anywho, you dropped this." She handed me a red pencil with a sliver of a pink eraser left, and bite marks covering the back. My lips pursed. The pencil wasn't mine. Everyone I had was yellow, and in my backpack. I took it anyways, thanking her politely before spinning it around in my hands.

It spun gracefully through my fingers once or twice before I noticed writing on one side. In messy, American handwriting, it read; Meet me at 'London's tea shop' at four~thirty.

I glanced at her as she turned around a final time before sauntering out the door, her hair trailing behind her, the sun rays making her seem almost unreal. Was she even real at all. She obviously knew something I didn't, and I was going to figure out what that was.

****************************************************************************************

I checked my watch, the little silver hands marching their way around the shining navy surface. The hands displayed; four~twenty three. Seven more minutes.

I looked around the old coffee shop, taking it all in. They had redone it again since my last visit nine years ago. The chairs were now wooden along with the tables, and all the fabric was a maroon red. I bounced in my seat on the table in the corner, finding it rather comfortable. Pale red tudor roses decorated the center of every table, placed in little glass vases filled to the brim with water. I didn't mind the patriotism, but the smell was rather overpowering. I almost preferred the old smoke man from my last visit. At least he only stank up his corner.

Finally the bell on the door jingled, signaling her arrival. I checked my watch again. Four~thirty seven. When I looked back up, America was in the doorway, glancing around. Being in the corner, she hadn't seen me yet. I sat back, relaxing. I wanted to see what she'd do.

Casually, the blonde walked up to the counter and asked the lady for a double dark chocolate frappuccino  with extra whipped cream, causing me to stifle a laugh. She was obviously not lying about her heritage. Every british person I knew would've gotten a tea or at least a regular coffee, not whatever bloody concoction she was getting. After the lady at the counter disappeared behind the wall, America finally spotted me at the table. She plopped herself down at the table as if we were old friends and said, "Hey, did you want anything?"

I shook away her offer, my mind stuck on her disgusting drink. She shrugged, saying "Your loss." Before turning her focus fully to me. Her green eyes did that strange thing again, making my heart thump loudly. I backed away from her, trying to seem like the stronger one here, even though I clearly wasn't.

"Who the bloody heck are you?" I asked, careful to keep my eyes away from hers. She seemed taken aback slightly by my language, but I wasn't quite sure why. My father had said that the words that side of the world used were rather unsightly.

"You don't... remember me?" She asked, her voice suddenly quiet. Her original attitude had changed to this in about .3 seconds, much like London's weather. When you wake up, it's sunny, but as soon as you need to go out, it pours. The waitress set down a large frappachino with a mountain of whipped cream in front of her, but she didn't seem to notice. 

I shook my head, feeling more creeped and confused by the second. "No America, why would I know you?"

She just frowned, standing up and grabbing the cup. She started towards the door before saying, "Just call me Clare."

Before I could stop her, she was gone. The only sounds left in the shop was the tinkling of the door chime, signaling that she had left.