Junior High: A Romance {RusAme}

What Even is America?

I V A N

September 2, 2014

It was Ivan's first day of school today. Well, American school anyway. When his older sister told him that She, her husband, himself, and his younger sister Natalia were moving to across the world, he was not happy, at all.

When he got to the middle school out in the sticks, the first thing he noticed were the eyes on him. It was September already, and he didn't have a jacket or anything to keep him warm. He was used to the cold. Back in Russia, it used to drop to 30 or 20 degrees Fahrenheit, so a good 54 was pretty warm to him.

"Good Morning Mr.-", "Braginski", Ivan finished for the teacher. He already wasn't liking this school. "Thank you. Class, we have a foreign exchange student joining us this year, his name is Ivan Braginski. I hope you'll give him a warm welcome." He droned monotonously. Ivan cringed at the way he mispronounced his name. "Ah, Mr. Welps, it's pronounced ee-van". The elder looked at Ivan a bit embarrassed that he had said Ivan's name wrong, but carried on with teaching nonetheless.

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The day droned on for Ivan. He couldn't really focus in his classes, and didn't remember a thing from them.

As he walked to his locker to get his things that he needed to take home, he bumped into something, or rather somebody. Ivan looked up to see the most cute boy he'd ever seen. He had olive colored skin that was freckled, blazing blue eyes, and blue-rimmed glasses that hid them. He was a bit chubby, but he was more lanky than anything. He also had a confident, yet awkward aura around him. For a moment, Ivan just stared at him, and to be quite truthful, this boy was staring straight back at him.

"I- I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." Ivan staggered. The boy seemed to be entranced. He reached out to touch Ivan, and he did. "You're beautiful. What's your name?" They blue eyed boy asked. Violet eyes widened at the sudden question. "I'm Ivan, what's your name?" He asked. That seemed to snap him out of his entrancement. His blue eyes widened too. "My names'- ah, it's Alfred." He blushed. He had just realized what he'd said, and quickly walked away. Well that was weird.

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The pale male walked briskly to his room, trying to avoid the obvious question he was going to get when he walked through that door, but, try as he might, he failed.

"Vanya, how was your school day today?" His big sister asked. He cringed at the doting endearment; it made him sound like a little kid again, he was in eighth grade for goodness sakes! He turned around with a plastic smile and said, "I was being very well". Natalia scoffed at Ivan for his butchered English. He hadn't much time before the announcement of their moving, so what little English he did know how to speak, wasn't very correct in a grammatical sense.

"Well that's very good, Ivan. Did you happen to make any friends?" She asked hopeful. He answered with a small "no", but then he remembered his little bump-in with that cutie Alfred. "Oh, well I did meet this boy named Alfred. He was very pretty, and he told me I was beautiful. Does that count as making a friend?" He asked cheerfully. Ivan was never good at making friends, so he didn't really understand what it meant to be friends with someone, or how to make friends.

Katya almost choked on her drink, and her eyes became narrow. "What did you say, Vanya?" She asked in a warning manner. "I said that he called me beautiful, and that he was pretty. There's nothing wrong with that, right sestra?" He asked naively. His older sister sped walked up to him, and spat these words to his face: "In this house we do not, and I repeat, DO NOT, call boys pretty unless we are girls. Last time I checked, you weren't a girl, so I'd better not be hearing you say that again, young man". "But why? I thought I was just being friendly and nice. Isn't that what friends say to each other?" Ivan whined. He hated being yelled at by his sister. "Because Ivan, that isn't how God intended you to be. That's called being gay, you don't want to be that way, or you'll burn in hell".

Surprised at her response, the middle schooler just went back up to his room.
How the hell was he going to hide the fact that he thought that Alfred was pretty- hell he'd go as far as to say gorgeous even. And how in the absolute hell was he going to deal with some bubbling curiosity about the previous thought?

It was going to be a restless night for him.