. . . Curse you laziness and plot bunnies! You have made me create a new story! WAAAAA~! Anyway, this is my first ever Reader-Insert thingy so please tell me what I can improve on!

Also, the A/N will be in bold, like so.

"Miss Pangaea!" a little toddler waddled up to his young preschool teacher, his hands clamping his tomato-shaped piece of paper. "Me going to color drawing weally, weally, weally bright wed! Like yummy tomatoes!"

The blonde teacher nodded encouragingly, patting his curly dark brown hair in an affectionate manner. The boy smiled brightly, and then he awkwardly walked back to his table, multiple crayons scattered across the blue plastic table. The tanned boy analyzed the crayons expertly, searching for the perfect red crayon to color his tomato paper. Sadly, the only red crayons that weren't being used were nothing but broken off nubs. The toddler pouted, his eyes still looking around the room until he reached you.

You were currently enraptured in coloring your apple. Deciding not to pick yellow or green, you chose the color red, and, with a stroke of luck, you had found a perfect, sharp, red crayon. The red crayon swiftly scribbled through your apple-shaped paper, your (left/right) hand guiding it. You pushed hard so the scarlet hue would really stand out. The last thing you expected was a Spanish toddler ripping the crayon out of your grasp.

"Miiinnnneee!" he whined, taking the bottom of the crayon. Angered, you held on the crayon tightly, so hard that your knuckles became white. However, he didn't budge. The kid continued to pull on the crayon with his face red and his gasps becoming quick and heavy.

"Antonio! (Name)! Stop this right now!" Miss Pangaea cried, storming over to you two, her hands glued to her hips.

Unfortunately, she was too late.

In a split second, the crayon broke, sending you flying back in your chair, and the kid named Antonio stumbling back until he fell on his rump. The boy sat there for a second, taking in just what happened, glanced at the half of crayon in his right hand, and tears began to rim his bright green eyes.

"Vat vas so awesome! Do it again, kesesese!" laughed a toddler, but Miss Pangaea gave him an icy glare. The kid stopped laughing.

You were still very angry at this Antonio kid, seeing as he did break your crayon. However, the fiery emotions seeped away at the sight of him crying; tears leaking out of his puffy eyes and then trailing down his reddened cheeks in rivers. Your hard expression softened, your emptiness being filled by guilt. Quietly, you gathered the other half of the crayon that lay limply at his side and made a beeline to Miss Pangaea's desk. Taking the roll of tape, you messily tied the two into one, wasting much more tape then there were needed. You made your way back to Antonio, who was hiccupping because of his tears. Sheepishly, you handed him the crayon after whispering, "Sowwy?"

(Page Break)

Of course, preschool was nothing but history now. All you needed to do was survive through (Midde, High, etc.)school.

You held your books like everyone else did, not hugging it close to your chest like all those cutesy klutz anime characters. However, you did take great interest in your feet, seeing how your (E/C) eyes were practically glued to the floor. Months had passed since your first day at (Your School's Name), but you still felt extremely insecure around everyone. New people and a new school just wasn't your greatest idea of fun. Even so, you tried very hard to make new friends, so you weren't completely alone. And then, of course, your mind drifted to him.

Him. The one who made you laugh. The one who made you fit in. The one who made you feel comfortable.

There was no doubt that he was one of the most handsome guys in the school; those emeralds of eyes had a unique touch of passion and love that made girls go wild. His skin was flawlessly tanned and his somewhat curly brown hair was always cutely out of place, but that was his style. He dressed casually; plain white t-shirts and beige cargo shorts. Of course, if he was to dress up a little more formally, the Spanish lad would probably blind every female he passed. In other words, he had really grown up since preschool.

It was because of this that made you wonder why someone like him would still be friends with someone like you.

Springtime was soon closing to an end, and summer was dawning just over the horizon. Summer was very enjoyable, except those extremely hot days. Antonio didn't mind, though. He loved summer, along with all the bugs and the unbearable heat. But what he loved most of all was the fact that tomato season was in summertime, and absolutely nothing could be better than tomatoes.

"Hey, (Name)~!" you heard Antonio's cheerful call behind you, his right hand waving in the air as he held his books in his free arm.

You turned to face him, a smile gracing your lips. Girls watched in envy as the boy jogged up to you, green eyes sparkling just like they do in his own special way. You acknowledged him by saying a quick, "Hey!" Antonio tousled your (H/C) hair, and you patted it back into place.

"Chica, you will never guessed what happened!" Antonio cried cheerfully, walking side-by-side to you.

"What?" you asked half-heartedly.

"Well, Romana," Antonio started, stating his girlfriend's name, "actually kissed me! Well, of course she sort of hit me on the head at first, but it was a hit of love of course, and then she tripped and fell, but I caught her in my arms. But then I lost my balance, you know? Not that she's heavy or anything, but still! Then I sorta fell on her, and then she kissed me! Gee, I think I'm in love, (Name)! It was amazing."

Being an easy-going Spaniard, Antonio continued to talk, and you began to tune him out. Sure, you loved him like crazy and usually you'd never ignore him, but . . . you got touchy when it came to Romana. The Italian girl was the complete opposite of the Spanish boy, but you figured this was where the "opposites attract" factor came in. You preferred hanging out with Feliciana, Romana's twin sister, since the air-headed Italian was a lot more fun to be around. As for Romana, she was just . . . mean.

"(Name)? Hey, are you listening? I asked you a question!" Antonio's voice brought you back from that wandering mind of yours.

"O-Oh, sorry. I, uh, spaced out again, I guess," you stammered, blinking so you focus on the crowded hallway before you.

"It's fine, really," he assured you, that smile of his still plastered on his face. "I was asking you whether or not I should ask her to the prom."

A streak of pain jabbed your heart, but you tried not to let it show. How embarrassing, you thought, shaking your head lightly. I'm jealous over his girlfriend. I'm just a friend, nothing more. You took in a quick breath, letting the words filter through your brain. If only I was . . .

"Well, of course you should ask her to prom," you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at Antonio. "She is your, uh, girlfriend after all." The brunette boy sighed in relief, eyes flickering to yours. It looked so genuine, as if your opinion was the only thing that mattered. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you looked back at your feet, your (H/C) tresses covering your innocent little blush.

"Anyway," Antonio beamed, "I'll see you at lunch, 'kay?"

And with that, Antonio bounced into another class, leaving you alone in the hallway once again. Over and over, the conversation ran through your head. It was almost like a broken CD, replaying over and over and over and over. . . And, just like the conversation, you felt the same emotions as before: envy, anger, happiness, and comfort.

(Page Break)

(Your Least Favorite Subject). You hated it. Now, some people might say that "hate" is a strong word, but, this time, you meant it. You really hated (your least favorite subject). Just thinking about it gave you a freaking migraine, and the definitions and whatever never stuck to your head. And then, of course, there was your teacher. (His/Her) voice completely morphed into the background, giving you no choice but to daze off into your little fantasy world. Like now, for example. (Your least favorite subject's teacher's name) was currently blabbing that mouth of (his/hers) until it was nothing but insane jibber-jabber. Jibber-jabber . . . that reminded you of blue jays. And then, those blue jays, reminded you of eggs. Eggs reminded you of sausage, which reminded you of ketchup. Ketchup reminded you of tomatoes, which immediately linked to Antonio. Antonio . . .

"(Name)? I asked you the same question five times already!" the teacher screeched, waking you up from your little daze.

"Uh, I, um, sixty-four?" you guessed, and kids began to laugh. (Teacher's Name) just shook (his/her) head angrily, sending you a bone-chilling death glare. For the rest of the class, you (well, tried to, at least.) paid attention.

(Page Break)

"Kesesese! (Name), come sit with the awesome me!" called a familiar voice, echoing throughout the loud and chattering cafeteria. You turned, seeing the one and only Gilbert Weillschmidt, waving his hand towards him, gesturing you to sit with him and his friend, Francis Bonnefoy. If Antonio was here, that'd complete the "Bad Touch Trio," as they were called. You were completely used to this, seeing as you've grown up with Gilbert since preschool as well. At first, you two . . . weren't the best of friends (he always made fun of you and somehow was able to dig up your elementary mistakes). Time went on, and you weren't surprised of his natural over-confident personality.

As for Francis, you two met around Elementary School. He gave you an occasional wink or whisper in your ear, but, other than that, he was pretty much harmless. After all, Francis had his eye on someone else. So, you and the Frenchman became simple friends.

"'Kay, hold on," you say, weaving your way through the crowds of people. Setting your lunch on the table, you tenderly sat down, smiling at your good friends. Gilbert held up a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Look at the awesome sandwich the awesome me made! West is so proud that I could make it myself!" the silver-haired albino bragged, waving it in the air like it was a god. Francis scoffed, opening his lunch. Inside was a fancy-looking lunch, as if it was made by one of those gourmet cooks.

"It's French, you know," Francis explained, blue eyes sparkling when he noticed your interest in his delightful cooking. You shrugged, looking down at your own food. Unlike Francis's food, it was a simple turkey and cheese sandwich with a bag of potato chips. Your glorious beverage was a plain water bottle that was half empty. Or, looking on the optimistic side, it was half full.

"Where's Antonio?" you asked casually, trying not to sound too interested. They too didn't know of your "minor" crush on the Spaniard, so Gilbert and Francis weren't the slightest bit suspicious.

"Oh, 'e is zitting by the Vargas twins and Ludwig, cheri," Francis murmured, twirling a lock of golden hair between his fingers. "Zey are just ze cutest couple, oui?"

"Psh, no chick will hold me down!" Gilbert cried, waving his hand dismissively. "All Antonio talks about is, 'Romana this,' and 'Romana that.' It makes me sick!"

"Mmm," you said, not really listening to Gilbert. Your eyes were completely locked on the bipolar couple, your teeth nibbling on your sandwich. You sighed sadly and turned back to your friends when you saw Romana give Antonio a reluctant peck on the cheek.

"He wanted to ask her to the dance," you said hoarsely, gulping down the disappointment building in the pit of your stomach. "I guess she said yes."

"Ah, I see. Are you going with anyone, (Name)?" Francis asked you. "I'm going to ask ze beautiful Alice Kirkland~! 'Opefully she won't slap me again, non?"

Gilbert laughed loudly, banging his hands on the table. "I remember last year vhen you asked her out! She poured all of her tea on your head! Kesesese!" Teary eyed, the Gilbert calmed down, still smirking at his blue-eyed friend.

"Oui," he said sadly, but he perked up. "She just doesn't know 'ow to express 'er love to me. She will come around soon, ohonhonhon~!"

"I . . . don't really have a date," you said awkwardly, playing with your napkin and avoiding their eyes.

"The awesome doesn't need a date. I'm just coming for the free food," Gilbert shrugged, taking a sip of his soda.

Ah, typical Gilbert.

(Page Break)

You were walking home from school, holding onto your (color) backpack. It made your back ache from all the heavy books and binders stuffed into it, but you held through. Taking in a heaving sigh, you walked to the park, an area not too far away from the school. You had promised Antonio you'd meet him there to do your homework together. You two did this every Friday since both of you didn't want to be left with homework on Sunday. Seriously, homework piled on a Sunday sucks.

It was springtime, and the leaves were already clearly visible in the warm, orange hue of light. The sun was hanging over the horizon by a thread, clouds wafting lazily across the reddening sky. Blades of grass waved in the soft wind, making your hair swerve in the breeze. Late flowers still stood tall, blooming in a variety of colors. Your feet dragged across the ground, searching for Antonio. The next thing you saw was unexpected.

"Go away!" a shrill but urgent voice whispered. "He's coming soon!"

This voice. . . You recognized who it was, but you just couldn't put your finger on it. Who . . . ?

"Do not be so tense, da?" Now, this voice was unmistakable. There was only one person who can say something so lightly while still sounding so scary, and that person was Ivan Braginski.

Taking in a deep breath, you hid yourself behind a rather large oak tree. Luckily, Ivan's back was to you so you can you see the other person's face.

"You promised me that you would break up—" the Russian chimed, but you could tell he was upset. You peeked over the bark of the wood, but Ivan's tall body was in the way. Damn.

"Yeah, well, I will, okay?" the feminine voice angrily huffed, sounding extremely impatient. Now, you were finally able to tell who this was, even if it shocked you.

Romana Vargas.

"Hey, (Name)!" Antonio's voice was far away, coming from behind you. "What're you doing behind that tree, amiga?"

You heard a Romana's angry shriek; "Run!" and a following trample of footsteps. You sighed, plastered a fake, innocent smile on your face, and then turned to Antonio.

"Okay!" he huffed, throwing his backpack on the ground. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and his dark chocolate curls of hair were wet. As usual, he was smiling and beaming like dope, oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend might be possibly cheating on him. "We'll start with algebra, okay? Great!"

The tanned boy happily placed a bunch of worksheets and workbooks on the ground, his pencil stuck between his teeth. He stared at the math problem, eyebrows furrowing together. He looked so cute when he was attempting to be serious. The boy groaned and fell backwards onto his back, staring up at the sky.

"It's too hard," Antonio whined, placing his hands behind his head. "Man, how am I supposed to know what X is? (Name)? Hey, are you listening?"

What do you do? Will you tell Antonio what you saw or will you keep your mouth shut?

Okay, unlike most Reader-Inserts, I've decided to let the reader choose. After all, each and every one of you readers are different, and may or may not do certain actions. So, please PM me what choice you will do. For this chapter, you can either tell Antonio what you saw or keep your mouth shut.

The choice will be a vote. So, if three people say want to keep their mouth shut and if four people want to tell Antonio, I have to make the next chapter about how the reader will tell Antonio what they saw. I won't make both paths, though. It's too much work.

Even though you guys PM me for your choice, please PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! The number of reviews will make me want to update more often! Thanks~