[ON HIATUS] The Orphanage of the Unfortunate and Unwanted (Countryhumans AU)

Chapter II -Strange Names

(Same POV)

The door creaked open the slightest bit and revealed a frail woman in a silk, white dress.

"Oh, yet another of those dodgy kids that get abandoned at our doorstep," she said, scratching the back of her head. She was one of those people that dominated the world, with their pale skin and blonde or brown hair  and whatnot; the people that mainly live in Europe and European-occupied (or once occupied) countries.

She got a clipboard from what seemed like nowhere, and said, "Alright, so what is your name? By the way, you must include your given name and surname."

My train of thought stopped. Did I even have a surname?

"Um... America... United... err..."

Damn it, get it right, America! Your real name!

"United States of the Bloody Americas," Ah, yes. What Mr. UK always calls me.

The woman looked down at me, a suspicious look in her eyes. She scribbled something down and then asked, "So, how about you give me the name of your mother or father instead?"

I smiled my cute, innocent six-year-old smile and piped up, "United Kingdom of Un-great Britain and Uncle Northern Ireland! Yup, he owns my uncle! There is no democracy I see here!"

Actually, the UK in real life was much more democratic than what my father depicted it like, but who's to blame a mindless six-year-old? Life is fine.

The woman's eyes furrowed and she said, "No, be serious, kid. What is your father's name?"

"United Kingdom of Un-great Britain and Uncle Northern Ireland," I repeated.

Suddenly, the woman dropped her clipboard. She stormed up to me, pulled my left ear and yelled, "If you don't tell me your real name, or your father's, then I will whip you!"

My legs quivered upon hearing the word 'whip'. It reminded me of the older times, when my father was never home, and my 'babysitter' would use a horsewhip to slap me on the legs. No, I was not going to risk that experience again.

"For your pleasure," I trembled as I spoke, "I will declare that my father's actual name is... United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

What kind of wording was that???

"Oh, and so you declare that, little one," the woman smirked as she approached me. "Are you of Country-Human descent?"

Wouldn't she know by my name or appearance? That doesn't make any sense...

No, what even is a Country-Human?

I stared in confusion and dismay. Okay, NOW I am totally doomed.

"I bet you are," she said after I said nothing. "I think you would be of much use."

...

I suppose the place wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. However, the only con was that there was a clear division between groups.

What they called 'normal humans' were put in one side of the building, and what they called 'Country-Humans' were forced into the other side. And after that, there was even more grouping.

The 'European countries' were one thing. They appeared to generally hang out with each other and then they had EVEN MORE divisions like 'Slavic' and 'Western' and whatever. The 'African countries' were kind of all over the place, the 'Asian countries' kept staring at me, the 'Oceania countries' or something barely existed, and then I lost track. I forgot what my 'continent group'  was, but I was placed somewhere with a tag hanging on my clothes with my name scribbled on it, and I was forced to interact with others.
I then wandered around by myself, and found myself standing in someone's room.

"Um, welcome to North America, I guess." A country with two blue strips and five stars on a white middle strip on his face said upon seeing me. "I think you're... America? Wait, no. That does not- BELIZE!!!"

Even though he only called for one country, several of them rushed over to observe me like I was the biggest discovery to be made ever.

"There's a third America!?"

"Whoah, look at his face!"

"Costa Rica, stop being weird."

"You're the weird one!"

"Wait, he's alive???"

They all stared at me for what felt like ages. I had only moved my arm the slightest bit and the commotion just stopped.
Hang on, they did not know I was alive? Was I that still?

"Yeah, he's alive. Duh," the blue and white kid from earlier replied, kicking me in the shin. "I'm Honduras, by the way, and this is my friend group. We hang out in Central America, but geographically, I don't know if you belong here."

"What's a geographically?" I blurted.

Everyone laughed like it was the funniest thing they have heard. Who knows, maybe it was.

"On the map." Honduras said, pointing to a poster on the wall.

I walked over to it and inspected it. The 'Central America' part was circled in red texta, and I found a region with my proper name on it, which was "The United States of America". But it was outside of the 'Central America' region, which meant that I did not belong here, even though it would be my pleasure to stay.

Life was sad.

"Honduras, I think I am out of that region you were talking about," I said.

He went over to stand beside and sighed, "Oh, yeah. You belong in 'Real North America'. Sorry about that."

Oh, right. The 'continent' I belonged in was the 'North America'.

"What's the difference between 'Real North America' and 'Central America'? Aren't they both North America?" I asked.

I noticed Honduras shift in his position, and it was almost like he pitied himself and wanted to lean away from me.

"Oh, we're more like the poor countries, well, in the Caribbean. You know, that cluster of islands and stuff below Mexico?" he gestured to the country that directly sat below my region. "Mexico mostly stays with us, so you'll mostly be alone with another guy called Can-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a man with a fat, grey mustache and barely any hair on his head croaked, "Oh, America, you've lost your way, you're supposed to be in 'Real North America', not 'Central America'!"

Racist bugs, I thought before following him. Separating me from my future friends!

I trudged along with him and was then shoved in a room with another boy. He had a mop of red hair squashed under a beaver hat, and his face had three strips, red, white with a red maple leaf, and red again. He had chestnut brown eyes that almost never seemed to frown that directly stared into mine.

"Oh, so your America, son of UK I suppose?" he queried, dropping his gaze.

I hesitated fro a moment, before replying, "Yes, I am. Why do you ask?"

His head perked up and he said, "Because I am Canada."