It's Not Over (RusAme Story)

Chapter 13- Skating

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

~Russia's POV~

The weekend went by a lot faster than I would have wished. Over the weekend, our coach, Coach Wood, allowed all our suspended teammates back on the team and we easily won against The Wolves 7-3. Afterwards, Germany and I hung out over the weekend by playing soccer in an empty field and exploring the woods.

I tried to apologize to Ukraine, but she was over at the Smith household nearly the whole weekend, hanging out with Canada and America. If Father had found out, he would've been furious.

I didn't exactly like the idea of Ukraine associating with those crazy capitalists, but I realize that it's not exactly my place to interject after what happened last Friday. Ever since I attacked America, she refuses to talk to me. I feel bad because I must have really scared her but America really did it have it coming between kicking me in the crotch, locking me in detention, shrinking my jersey and giving me a black eye.

I trudged into school dejectedly, wishing the weekend could replay and dreading the impending whirlwind of problems that is waiting for me inside this hellhole.

Today's the day that we have to start the goddamn project. And boy, was I not looking forward to it.

Speaking of the project, I don't even know what it's on! I was so occupied this weekend that I didn't even have time to check my email.

The only thing that spending more time with America is going to result in is frustration. Seriously, I sometimes wonder if she was tossed in the air, hit a ceiling fan, and was chucked out the window before hitting concrete. It sure would explain a lot. But that was wishful thinking. The truth is really that she's just too headstrong and that she needs to learn how to go with the flow.

I imagine her bright blue eyes glinting furiously in the light of UN's office when she completely lost her cool, her hair wild and expression defiant. Crazy how such a small figure could pack so much grit. Suddenly the thought of her underneath me popped into my head unexpectedly and I flushed against my will.

'What was that? Why the hell did that memory just resurface?' I wondered to myself, wishing I could just toss the embarrassing memory away. Wait-- that happened two weeks ago! There's no way that that was two weeks ago, it doesn't even feel like it's been that long. I quickly push away the thought of and return to a neutral facial expression.

I adjust my ushanka irritatedly. I never can seem to avoid her taunting voice, pesky gestures, and aggravating attitude. It's like she purposefully plagues everything I do. I can't even seem to get away from her in my dreams! This has got to stop.

Speaking of America, there she is. She walks in, trademark sunglasses on her sloped nose and golden hair blowing slightly in wind that only seems to affect her. Canada is to her right sporting a red checkered flannel, jeans, and grey beanie. Ukraine walks next to Canada, wearing a cute sundress with her brown hair done up in a bun. She must have left earlier this morning to catch the bus with them.

I try to ignore the fact that my sister's most likely still upset with me and instead turn my attention to Japan, who is holding America's hand, Ireland beside her. Japan's always been super affectionate, just like America. I feel like you should only share that kind of intimateness with loved ones. But I guess America loves a lot of people. Well, excluding me.

America notices me staring and glares before whispering to her friends. They look back at me and create a blockade around her, attempting to shield her from my vision as they walk down the hallway, but it's pointless. They're all shorter than me so I can see right over their heads. I shake my head at their idiocy and just continue walking.