To Do List: Escape Stalker, Hetalia is Real? (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 6~ A Call From Home

~*Author's warning: Swearing involved, especially during the actual phone call.*~

        I awake the next morning to find myself in an unknown room. If I remember correctly, I'm at the Nordic household. The guys were supposed to do some sort of spell to see if I'm one of them. Or something, I'm not sure because everything is fuzzy. I fling the covers off of myself, swinging my feet to the hardwood floor.

        When I leave my room, I hear what sounds like pots and pans clanging together. "Someone's making breakfast." I think to myself as my stomach growls. I snuck down the stairs, nearing the source of the noise.

        I peek around the corner, suddenly in the mood to scare someone. I see that it's Arthur at the stove, not one of the Nordics as I had expected. I tiptoe across the room, more silent than a cat on carpet.

        I step behind him, barely breathing. Keeping my hands behind my back, I lean my head forward so my mouth is near his ear. At a normal volume, I speak as if I'd been talking to him the entire time. "Do you mind if I help make breakfast?"

        Arthur practically jumped out of his skin. I had to dodge the empty frying pan he held in his hand as he spun to face me. I started cracking up; his expression was just hilarious.

        He scowled at me. "You damn git, what the bloody hell was that for?!" He was completely furious; his cheeks were red.

        "Oh my god, I'm sorry Arthur!" I try to say in between my hysterical laughs. "I couldn't resist! I'm sorry I scared you so badly!" I finally stop laughing, and catch my breath. "So, is it okay if I help make breakfast?" I smile innocently at him.

        He glares at me a while before he lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. I don't see why not."

        "Great!" I grin brightly, already grabbing eggs, milk, bread, bacon, and some spices. I put the bacon on a skillet, and ask Arthur to crack four or five eggs into an aluminum pan. I beat some milk and vanilla into the eggs while he throws out the eggshells.

        Arthur keeps beating the egg mixture while I heat another skillet and melt some butter on it. He watches the bacon while I dip the slices of bread to make the french toast.

        I tell Arthur when to flip the bacon and such, knowing it would burn if I didn't. I felt kind of bad that no one could stand his cooking. So I'm going to let him take credit for breakfast.

        My train of thought is interrupted by the pounding of many feet down the stairs. 'They must smell the bacon. 'Gets 'em every time!' I turn to the doorway as the five Nordics, as well as Gilbert and Alfred, run into the room.

        "Holy shit, it's Arthur cooking! No, don't let him! I'm too young to die!" the latter began to wail.

        "Chillax, Alfred! Arthur's cooking is fine. I was practically the master chef back home, so I just gave him a few pointers. This bacon he made is absolutely to die for!" I grab a piece off a large plateful that we already finished. I eat it with exaggerated delight, and it was truely delicious.

        I grab another piece, and throw it to Alfred. He catches it, and looks at it suspiciously.

        "Well, eat it, duh! Or is the hero too scared to eat a little piece of bacon?" I tease him, knowing he'd give in if I questioned his bravery.

        Alfred glares at me, then chomps it down. Gilbert and the Nordics stare at him, apparently expecting him to drop dead or something. But instead, his eyes go wide.

        "That was delicious! Oh my gosh, guys, you've gotta try this!" They all trip other each other to get to the large plate of bacon just waiting to be eaten. I laugh at their sudden childish behavior.

        "I told you so!! Back home I couldn't go anywhere without being asked to cook something for someone. It just comes naturally. We also made french toast!"

        My phone suddenly vibrates across the counter, ringing loudly. Seeing the ID, I pick it up and turn on the speaker phone. "Oh my god, hey girl! I'm sorry I didn't call you, Alyssa! But the craziest thing happened-" I stop talking when Arthur turns to glare at me. He shook his head, meaning 'She can't know.'

        Alyssa is my best friend, practically my sister. If this girl needed to, she would follow me the end of the Earth and beat the crap out of anyone who dared to get in her way. I'd do the same for her; we were crazy like that.

        "Zera, where the hell are you!? Everyone's worried sick, so you better start explaining!"

        I could just imagine her pacing in her room, red-gold hair flying around her every time she turned on her heel. Her deep blue eyes would be sparking with anger and worry. I took a deep breath.

        "Alyssa, clam down. I'm fine, I'm safe. I'm at a-" I hesitated slightly, not sure how much of the truth I could tell her. "I'm at a friend's house. I spent the night here, but don't worry."

        "Zera, I know every single one of your friends, and none of them know where you are either! You better tell me the truth right now, or so help me I will kick your ass when I find you!"

        I turn to Arthur. "We have no choice. I'm telling her the truth. She'll keep it a secret." He nods stiffly.

        "Alyssa, here's the truth. Hetalia is real." She was the one who introduced me to Hetalia, so I know she will understand. "Believe me. Just fly to Copenhagen, I'll explain when you get here."

        "Denmark!? How the hell am I supposed to fly all the way to fucking Denmark?" She yelled at me.

        Before I can reply, Alfred butts into the conversation. "My private plane is still back in your hometown. I'll make a few calls, and the pilot will fly her over." He grabbed his phone, and started talking to someone.

        "Alfred is going to have his private plane fly you over. Just go to the airport, and trust me. Can you do that?" I must have sounded insane.

        I heard a heavy sigh on the other end. "Since it's you, I will. But do you have any idea how fucking crazy you sound?"

        I laugh "Of course I do! It's me, remember?" We hung up.