America leaned back in his swivel desk chair and stretched his stiff arms above his head. He hated doing paperwork. He especially hated doing paperwork that was annual, and this paperwork was quarterly; full of details only England would care about. 'Actually', Alfred thought to himself, 'even Arthur wouldn't want this many useless details.'

Alfred absolutely hated going over the quarter notes for the nation. It was bad enough that he had needed to deal with the problem when they first happened, but to have to remember the horrors again drove Alfred up the wall. It was only May and Alfred had been forced to reread three separate tragedies, all of which could have been prevented. Alfred would grumble under his breath as he read the words again, keeping a pad of paper by his side so he could write down ideas on how to keep his people from ending their lives early with a stupid mistake.

'You have to let them make their own mistakes, America. It's a lot like raising children,' England had once told him at a World Conference after the Great Chicago fire had happened while Alfred was away in Southern Italy. Alfred didn't really remember much about that conference, but he was pretty sure that the blood on his hand was from England's nose...

Although, Alfred did have to admit to himself that he was lucky; instead of another completely catastrophic fire, America had only suffered two small fires, and neither had resulted in huge casualties. Alfred would never allow his people to become careless enough to have a repeat of Chicago, even though they were sprinting down the path there. Something had to be done. Immediately.

He flipped the folder shut loudly and stood up, thinking that he could run the problem by Teddy, who would surely know how to fix the problem.

Fairbanks strutted into Alfred's office with a knowing smirk, "Going somewhere Jones?"

America glanced at him from behind the safety of his desk, "Yes."

"And where would that be?" Vice President Fairbanks asked quickly, "I hope it's somewhere important, seeing as you're supposedly an important person."

"I'm going to see Teddy," Alfred replied in an even voice, straightening his tie out of habit, "not that it's really any of your business what I'm doing."

"I am not aware of any person on this property that responds to 'Teddy' Mr. Jones," Fairbanks remarked in a cool voice, "perhaps you should sit down and reacquaint yourself with the people that work here instead of sitting around on your ass all day."

"Excuse me?" Alfred demanded, his temper flaring, "what the hell did you just say?"

"Nothing that can't be proven," the vice president quipped, "now then, if you will please hand me the file on Great Britain, I'll be on my way, and I will allow you to go see Mr. President."

Alfred felt his eyebrow twitch as he looked back down at his desk, files spread across it, papers strewn around. He quickly grouped them all into a pile and dropped them into a desk drawer, making sure it was locked before glaring back up at Fairbanks, "you don't get to tell me what to do."

"Have you ever passed a history class, you dimwit, the President and Vice President are in charge of America," Fairbanks said as he ran his hand through his hair, "and that happens to include you."

"It's the President and Congress, if you want to get technical," Alfred replied, flipping down a framed photograph of him and Matthew to keep his hands busy and off of Fairbank's throat, "the Vice President is only there in case something happens to the President, which isn't often I might add."

Fairbanks walked towards the young man and slammed his hands down on America's desk, "You listen to me boy, I would have fired you the minute I took office if Mr. President hadn't of stepped in. You are an insubordinate whelp. As the Vice President of the United States of America, I order you to pull that file!"

"Just try to fire me," retorted Alfred, who straightened his back as he stared down the man in front of him, "I'd love to see you try."

"And why is that?" Fairbanks demanded, "no one has job security Jones, not even an annoying arrogant ass like you!"

"I'm signed up for life," Alfred said stepping out from behind his desk and walking leisurely into the hallway, hands buried deep into his pant pockets.

Alfred knocked once on the office door before stepping aside, not surprised to find the office empty save for the President.

"Hello, Alfred," Teddy said as he looked back down at the report on his desk, "how is your work coming?"

Alfred shoved his hands into his old blue jeans, "It's coming along, I suppose."

Teddy looked at Alfred over his glasses, "What did Fairbanks do now?"

"He told me he's trying to get me fired," Alfred said slowly, "and I had to try really hard not to explain why that was completely impossible."

"I wish that there was something we could do," admitted Teddy bluntly "but Fairbanks cannot be allowed to learn your true identity, Alfred."

America shrugged his shoulders in defeat and sat down in one of the chairs set before Teddy's desk, "why is he such a jerk?" He grumbled, scrunching down in the chair.

Teddy laughed softly, "He is only a jerk to you, Alfred. To me, he is the perfect kind of Vice President. One that will do anything I say without asking."

"Then can you tell him to leave me alone?" hopefully asked Alfred, "It would be easier to try and get my paperwork done if I didn't have to worry about Fairbanks trying to read it upside down and over my shoulder."

"Don't expect him to change," Roosevelt stated, "That man is determined to get rid of you. Not that he understands what would happen if you did just vanish someday."

Alfred smirked, "I have a feeling George would come flying out of his coffin to smack the ever living daylights out of you and Fairbanks."

"Oh really?" Teddy said lightly as he looked back down at the report on his desk, "he seemed like such a calm person."

"He was only calm when he had to be," Alfred replied easily, "which was almost all the time."

Teddy flipped over a page and read the back, "I don't doubt that."

Alfred kicked at the carpet with the toe of his boot, "Do you think we have time to go riding around Central America before supper?"

Teddy coughed into his hand as he dropped his report and gave the boy all his attention again, "Excuse me?"

"Do we have time to go riding around Central America like we used to. I'd love to see how the Panama Canal is coming along," Alfred said, trying to convince Teddy that they should get out of Washington and do something fun. It was boring staying in the same place for too long.

"If I went to see the Panama Canal right now, I would be punching a lot of citizens, Alfred," Teddy ruthful revealed, "Are you feeling overworked? Sick?"

"I have the first quarter report sitting on my desk," Alfred reminded him, "I always feel sick and overworked when I have one of those bad boys waiting for me."

Teddy looked at him, "You know it's your duty to do them."

"I know," Alfred said, "I just wish Martha had never thought about them. I guess that's why she was a brilliant woman."

"Washington's wife?" Teddy asked, always pleased to learn what the past presidents were actually like.

America nodded as he thought about it, "It was easier when she was here though, and she always helped me get them done."

"So that's why you liked her," remarked Teddy, who didn't bother looking up from his paperwork this time."

"It is not!" Alfred defended quickly, red coming to his cheeks, "she was just awesome, like Prussia!"

"Calm down my dear boy, it was just a joke," Teddy said, looking up and pushing the paperwork aside, Alfred was taking up too much of his attention span to focus on both. "Prussia?"

"One of the other countries," Alfred started to explain, "His big thing is how awesome he is."

"Is he?" Teddy asked, he wasn't used to hearing about the other countries, even after seven years.

"Well, he did help train Washington's army," Alfred shrugged, "So I guess he is. But if he's awesome, then I'm the hero!"

"Yes, Alfred, whatever you say."

America laughed, his last feelings of stress and overwork leaving him as he joked around with his boss, "You and Abe would have gotten along very well. He's the one who started using that phrase you know."

"No, I didn't know that," remarked Teddy, "I would have assumed that England was the first to use it. You did declare you were a hero when you were a child, no?"

Alfred wasn't sure how to answer, "England. He really wasn't around much when I was a kid. He raised me for a few years straight, and then went back to his country for a long time."

"So you never thought of yourself as a hero when you were young?" Teddy said, very surprised, "things like that tend to begin when you're a child."

"I didn't use it until I was a teenager," reluctantly Alfred admitted, "while I was trying to convince England that I was grown up enough to run my own country, and to let me go peacefully. It started one of our worst fights actually.""

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Teddy said sincerely, "I never would have brought it up if I had known."

Alfred shrugged, "It's alright, Teddy. Most people don't ask me any questions about how England was growing up. They just seem to forget that someone somewhere had to of raised me."

"It's just strange to think of nations as having normal human lives," Teddy explained patiently, "I never would have assumed that you were once a lovely little toddler, I would have thought you were grown up when England found you."

"Ask England, I very much doubt that I was a lovely little toddler," laughed America, "I wish I was still away in Kitty Hawk, teddy."

Teddy sighed; he should have known the conversation would drift to this topic again. Alfred had been constantly going on about it ever since he had returned from watching history be written in Kitty Hawk. "It's been five years, what in Kitty Hawk was so interesting? I have heard that the sunsets are beautiful, but I didn't think they raised such levels of interest."

America looked at him, "The Wright brothers told you, didn't they."

"Yes, yes they did," Teddy told him sternly, "they also sent me another bill. Consider yourself the first person to ever pay to fly on an airplane, America."

"Is that all they told you?" Alfred accidently blurted out.

Teddy looked at him, "Unluckily for you, no. Alfred, you should know better than to steal an airplane and go joyriding in it."

"I couldn't help it!" he protested, "They didn't even have to teach me what to do, so I wasn't a problem for anybody!"

"But why did you do it, Alfred? Even if you are an impulsive person, this isn't like you," Teddy told him, slightly concerned, "didn't Mattie try to talk you out of it?"

"Mattie went with me," sheepishly admitted Alfred, "he wanted to do it just as much as I did."

Teddy fought the urge to slam his head down on his desk as he listened to his country talk, "Even Mattie was in on it?"

"Yes, sir," Alfred said quickly, knowing that he was really going to be in for it.

"I swear England instilled some of his pirate values into you two!" Teddy complained. "Why did you do it?" Teddy asked again.

"We wanted to fly," Alfred said awkwardly.

Teddy stood up and looked out the big windows behind his desk, "I have to give you this, Alfred, if anyone was destined to be flying, it was you. You take to airplanes the way I take to horses."

Alfred felt his jaw drop, "you aren't going to kill me!?"

"That would be hypocritical of me, Alfred. Considering I rode horses that weren't mine when I was a brash young lad," Teddy said smiling. "However, there isn't anything to be scared of with horses. Airplanes are a very different story."

Alfred smirked at Teddy, "At least I'm not scared of horses."

"You'd be scared of airplanes as well if you could be killed," Teddy called over his shoulder lightly. "Those Wright brothers are brave souls to be going up in that machine of theirs."

"That's why I should be a pilot; no one would ever have to worry about me dying!" Alfred said excitedly, his blue eyes flashing happily.

Teddy brought his hand up to his forehead and turned to look at Alfred, "please stop reminding me about how crazy this job is."

"I could be worse!" Alfred reminded him, leaning sideways in the chair and propping his head up in his hand, "I'm still a firecracker!"

"Don't show me, I might have to call England over here to drag you back in line," Teddy teased again with a smile.

America glared harmlessly at Teddy and unable to stop from asking, "Is there any way I can go flying again?"

Teddy sighed, "Yes Alfred, I'm afraid that there is a way."

"Really!" Alfred sat up straight in the chair, hoping that Teddy wasn't just pulling his leg again

"It would require you to travel," warned the President, "and not to Kitty Hawk this time."

"As long as I don't have to deal with Europe I'll be fine!" Alfred declared, knowing that almost every country over there was mad at him for some reason or another, the last World Conference had been a delicate situation.

Teddy almost smiled again, "I'm afraid that Europe seems to have bigger issues to worry about than the Monroe Doctrine, Alfred. There are a lot of countries grating on each other's' nerves right now, and they seem apt to lash out at anyone they perceive to be weak."

"Which is why we have to stay out of world affairs," recited Alfred. "That way we don't get dragged into any problems that don't concern us."

Teddy nodded, "very good, Alfred. Now then, back to the topic of you being able to fly again."

Alfred waited with bated breath, his hands curled up into fists on his knees.

"There is going to be a state fair with a very special airplane this summer," Teddy began, watching Alfred's face, "they would like to find a pilot who has no problems testing out the airplane, and hopefully taking passengers up with them."

Alfred smiled widely, "Really! They've managed to develop an airplane with passenger abilities!"

"They asked me if I knew anyone," Teddy said almost off handedly, "It seems that they're having a hard time finding a pilot, so they asked the President to look through his contacts and pull some strings."

"Cut the strings tying me to Washington!" Alfred begged, "I'll be the pilot that they need! I'll be careful and I promise not to break the plane!"

"I have already filled out everything Alfred," Teddy explained as he laughed.

"You arranged all of this without me noticing!? Teddy, I'm impressed," Alfred smirked.

"It's not hard to distract you with some extra detailed quarter reports," admitted Teddy with an evil smile.

Alfred was speechless, "You tried to sound like a tea drinker on purpose?"

"Yes."

"You are evil, Teddy," America complained, "When do I leave for the fair?" Nothing could damper his mood, even finding out that his reports were made to sound like England did nothing.

"You will leave for the Iowa State Fair in two months."

"Such a long wait!" Alfred complained lightly, "Teddy?"

"Yes, Alfred?" Teddy asked; he recognized that tone of voice, "am I forgetting anything?"

Alfred asked softly, "Am I allowed to get a bomber jacket now?"

Teddy laughed as he walked towards the door, holding up one of his hands and waving as he walked away, "I see I haven't forgotten anything!"

Alfred looked out the windows in the Oval Office and he let the news sink in. He smiled his award winning smile at nothing in particular, and felt content. He, Alfred F. Jones, was going to be flying a plane at the Iowa State Fair in a bomber jacket. For a fleeting second, he wished England were here, so he could tell him the good news and see England's proud smile again. His smile fell slightly. Those times were long gone, and it wouldn't do any good to wish for them back.

Still, America had bigger problems then wanting praise from England. The rest of the world didn't believe that an airplane even existed, except for Mattie, who was Alfred's partner in crime when it came time to hijack the plane and going for a night fly.

It was another world conference that Alfred didn't remember very well. His proud announcement had fallen upon deaf ears, and England had used it as an opportunity to make America 'the childish idiot of the world' again. This was a normal occurrence, and no one paid much attention to it. That is, until Mattie stood up and started screaming profanities at England from across the room.

Most countries where terrified to actually see the Canadian in the first place, so they were beyond horrified at seeing him screaming at England with everything he had. England had just sat there, his mouth hanging open as he listened to his quietest colony yelling at him. France was staring at the pair of them with concerned eyes; this wasn't normal behavior for his little Canada to be showing. Loudly, France began proclaiming that if Canada was willing to scream at the country that controlled him, then America's strange new airplane must be real. No one listened to him; they were too captivated by the sight of the quiet country flying off the handle. However, England heard the French country make this comment and began to lose it himself.

For the first time in history, America was forced to restrain Canada from ripping someone's throat out. Cuba forced England back into a chair, and England was forced to watch in wide eyes horror as Canada fought his brother tooth and nail to reach England and kill him. Most of the other countries had fled the room in terror when Canada had tried to jump across the table, and Germany had to drag Italy from the room by the scruff of his neck to keep him safe. Only a handful of countries remained, and all of them were busy trying to keep England in his chair or trying to calm Mattie down.

The main person in charge of calming the country down was France, who was trying to reason with Canada in French, "S'il vous plaît se calmer Matthew! S'il vous plaît, ce n'est pas la meilleure façon de traiter avec l'Angleterre" (Please calm down Matthew! Please, this isn't the best way to deal with England.)

While France was trying to calm Mattie down, America was busy trying to control his brother, who really was just a tiny bit stronger than himself. After several minutes of listening to France plead to him in his soothing language, Mattie sagged in America's arms. England looked over at him hopefully, thinking that maybe he would be able to speak some sense into his crazy colony. But before England would try to say anything, Mattie began to talk first, and England understood every blasted word he said

"Je déteste l'Angleterre! Il se dirigea Alfred et moi une à plusieurs fois!" (I hate England! He's always doubts Alfred and I every time!) Canada said loudly to France, who promptly tried to calm his favorite little nation down even harder, growing more and more worried about his Matthew.

"Dude, stop talking in French, I can't understand you when you get like that," Alfred reminded his limp brother.

England glared at Canada from across the room, and began to be reminded of a certain blasted trying to become independent. He would have to punish Canada for daring to stand up to him, at a world conference no less. The British Empire would not lose another colony so easily. Canada looked from Alfred's arms and shot purple daggers at England.

Suddenly, England's blood ran cold as that cursed word came out flying of Matthew's mouth. Alfred must have finally got to him.

"Je veux mon indépendance!"(I want my independence!) Canada yelled loudly, causing any remaining countries to sprint out of the room as fast as they possibly could.

Alfred stared at his brother with wide eyes as Mattie collapsed into Alfred's chest and began to cry. He understood that phrase.

Knowing they needed to get out of there quickly if they wanted to live, France began to push the Alfred and Mattie bundle out of the room, right past England. When they were even with England, Canada straightened up and looked at his ruling country with red, puffy eyes.

"We'll talk later, Canada," England told him sternly, "when you've calmed down. I seem to have said something that deeply upset you, and I apologize for whatever it was."

Canada nodded and looked at Alfred, who watched Mattie's purple eyes harden before Mattie turned back around to look at England, "Yes, England, we will be talking later. I dare say that I will be looking forward to our little chat."

England seemed taken back, "is there anything in particular you want to discuss, Matthew ?"

"Just some new treaties pertaining to you paying me back for all the shit you've put me through since you stole me from France," Mattie told him with a smile.

England's jaw dropped, "Excuse me !?"

Mattie sighed, "Read my lips you English bastard," he told England slowly, "Alfred may have kicked your ass with strength, but I'm gonna kick your ass with brains."

"How dare you!" England exclaimed, standing up out of his chair and getting nose to nose with Canada, "I have given you an awful lot of freedom to run that country of yours, mister. Don't make me take it away !"

"Just throw some tea into Hudson Bay, Mattie," Alfred commented, "I can assure you that he doesn't like it when you waste tea like that."

Mattie nodded, "I'll remember that. Now if you will excuse me you tea drinking bastard, I have some English scum to kick out of my country."

Proudly, Mattie flipped him off before he marching out of the room, France hurried after him, not sure if he should be horrified or proud of Matthew.

Alfred stood there awkwardly, not sure what he should be doing now.

"This is all your fault," England shouted at him, "if you hadn't of been such a bad influence on your brother he wouldn't have such a blind obligation to defend all of your stupid lies ! And now you've got him thinking he can handle being off on his own ! You are a horrible big brother America, just think about how you're ruining Canada's life right now."

"Sorry, England, but I have an alliance to reinforce with my brother," Alfred said coldly before taking a page out of Mattie's book and flipping England before hurrying from the room.

The three of them missed the rest of the conference, but Alfred didn't mind. All he wanted was for Mattie to feel better. Of course, most of the other countries followed England's lead and blamed America for the whole disturbance. They forgot about his airplane completely, deciding it was the foolish ranting of a child.

"I'll show them," Alfred said, clutching his fist, "I'll show all of them."

"You summoned me, your majesty," Arthur asked as he bowed before his king, shirt sticking under his armpits.

"Rise," the King said lazily, leaning back into his red, plush throne, "I have an assignment for you." the man said bluntly, "and I have been persuaded that you are in fact the best man for the job."

Arthur stood up and approached the King, "What do you need me to do?"

"If you will recall, Mr. Kirtland, The United States announced five years ago that it had built a working airplane," the king began slowly, "correct?"

"Yes, Sire," England answered grimly, that wasn't one of his favorite world conferences, "however, they did not offer any proof, and have since been deemed a liar and desperate for attention."

The King looked down his nose at him, eyes narrowing, "We were wrong."

Arthur felt his mouth drop open before quickly shutting it and trying to form words.

"You," the King said with authority, "were wrong." The words settled into Arthur's chest, tight and oppressive, "you were wrong Arthur Kirkland," the King seemed to sing, "and now you have to play catch up."

"He did it?" Arthur asked incredulously, "Alf- America actually has managed to build a machine that allows people to fly? I can't believe it!"

The King cleared his throat, "Believe it Mr. Kirkland, and believe that America has been developing this technology unopposed for five years now, all thanks to you."

Arthur was torn between being proud of Alfred, who had seemed to certain that everyone would believe him, understand of Matthew's reactions, or worried that his King was staring at him with such fire burning in his eyes.

"It would appear that France has been working closely with the United States for most of these past five years, Mr. Kirtland," the King methodically informed him, "together, they have achieved the ability of flight crafts capable of holding more than one person. This is extremely terrifying Mr. Kirkland. My country is useless in this area."

Arthur said nothing, but standing patiently, waiting for the King to tell him what to do already.

The King glared at him, "you will go to America to study the device."

Suddenly Arthur understood what Edward was getting at, "you want me to go to America as a spy Sire."

"If that's how you choose to look at it so be it," Edward replied, "but do not expect to her those words come from my mouth, or my hand Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur took a deep breath before stating, "I will not do anything to ruin my relationship with America."

The King looked at his fingernails, "good. If the relationship between our countries grows any worse, I fear that America may join France to fight against us."

"Excuse me?" England couldn't help but ask as he tried to keep his temper under control, his fingernails digging into his fleshy palms, "I'm afraid I don't understand how that relationship is getting worse sir. It has reportedly been improving."

The King glanced sharply at Arthur, "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that you don't understand what has happened with America, Mr. Kirtland. Allow me to enlighten you.

"You see, America is just one mistake after another. And the blame for that falls partially on England's inability to law down the law when it needed to. The rest of the blame falls on the miserable person who raised the insolent whelp. If I could go back in time and have him strung up from the tallest try by his toenails I would." The king thought to himself for a minute, "Actually, I think I would condemn him to live in America for the rest of his lonely, miserable life."

England stared at his king with his mouth open, "what do you mean America is one giant mistake! How could a mistake still be around?"

"I was getting to that, Mr. Kirtland," snapped the King, "England turned a blind eye to that place to many times. The stupid colonists decided to grow a brain and think for themselves. Now we just need to get rid of the brain."

"Now?" England asked quickly, suddenly terrified about what his king was implying.

The king leaned on his hand as he looked down at England, "history will someday know me as the King who reclaimed the lost colonies. The sun will never set on us again."

"The sun still does not set on us Sire," England reminded him forcefully, "even without America under our control. We are still ruler of Canada."

"Who, I'm aware, has been actively trying to do whatever it takes to get his independence from us in the most peaceful way possibly," replied Edward passively, "I can see by the look on your face you were not aware of it. Well Kirkland, maybe you should read the intelligence memos placed on your desk every now and then.

"Once I have America back under my thumb, I will be able to turn it into the crowning jewel of the British Empire! America will fall under my rule, and depending on my mood, I will allow Canada to have a taste of the freedom he so desires. But British America will become the pride and joy of the Empire once again."

"America was always the always pride and joy of England," Arthur forced out, "I'm certain our avatar couldn't be any prouder of his former colony."

The King waved his hand dismissively, "Do not speak to me of our useless avatar. They have not been around whilst I have been in power, and I don't remember ever seeing them as a child. I would think that a war brewing with France would be enough reason to draw them out of the shadows, but alas, it seems I was wrong."

Arthur gulped, "Then what are you going to do to draw the avatar out?"

"You know that answer, don't act dumb just to please me," Edward snapped, "the nation hunt will take place as planned, on Bastille Day. At the same time, I hope that our plot to retake the colonies will drive the avatar to reveling himself to protect the sniveling brat.

"I have a feeling that we will need superior airplanes if we are to ever have a hope at retaking America," Edward said suddenly, "which is why we are forced to rely on your ability to get the technological details out of America without detection. Several of my advisors came together to persuade me that you were the best man for the job, so I now bestow it upon you with my gravest warnings, don't fail. Failure is not an option."

"Yes, your Majesty," Arthur choked out, his fingernails slicing into his palms.

"Go now, and remember to read the paperwork on your desk, there you will find most of the details of your trip," Edward rattled off, "but Kirkland, this is the only time you will ever discover the name of our contact in America. This man will be the person you must get the airplane plans from, and any other plans he is able to acquire. Are you ready?"

Nodding his head, Arthur took a deep breath, hoping to settle his stomach, "I'm ready sir."

"You must make contact with a Mr. Scott Jones who works in the White House as a personal aid to the President and national avatar, do you understand? He is the only person who can do this for us."

"Sir."

Edward nodded his head and waved his hand, "then be gone, and do not return until you have the plans."

Arthur forced himself to bow to the king before leaving the room, turning to leave the room, but was halted by Edwards's voice again.

"Kirkland, if your department does manage to find the avatar before you leave, would you be so dear as to drag him in here by his toenails? I still have much desire to learn why he is hiding from me," Edward mentioned as an afterthought, "that it all."

"Job well done, Alfred," Arthur whispered to himself, after his had left the chambers and hurried down the hallway, "you really are the pride and joy of the English Empire."

Amelia stormed into her house at exactly 5 o'clock, her younger sister trailing behind her, evidence of their mischief still showing on the knees of her bloomers. "Is father home yet!" she demanded loudly, firmly planting her hands on her hips.

Amelia's mother sighed and turned to look at her daughters, potato in hand, "He will be home in ten minutes, Amelia. Just like always."

"But he said he has a surprise for me and Grace!" Amelia asserted, "That means he's coming home early!"

"Amelia, you are ten years old, use proper grammar," admonished her mother as she turned back to the sink to continue peeling potatoes for supper, "and that isn't his surprise."

Grace looked up from where she was trying to rub away a stubborn grass stain, "Are we moving again?"

"No, dear," her mother sighed, "we did just move here after all."

"There's hardly any children to play with!" Amelia said loudly, "and they all make fun of me and Grace for wearing bloomers!"

Their mother paused for a moment, "Are they now, Amelia?"

"Yes," Amelia repeated, "they said that girls aren't allowed to wear them to school either!"

"Of course you're not allowed to, Amelia," her mother lectured, "and you won't have to worry about going to school in August. Grandmother has decided that she is going to homeschool you girls instead."

The front door to the small house opened and a manly voice called out, "I'm home!"

Grace scuttled out of the kitchen and into the living room, where their father had dropped his things so he could pick her up as she ran towards him, "Hello Grace, sweetie. Have you been a good girl today?"

"Yes!" she squealed loudly as her father swung her around.

"Then explain these lovely grass stains on your bloomers," he demanded with a smile, setting his youngest daughter back on her feet.

Grace looked around guiltily, "Amelia and I were playing."

"I should have known it was Amelia's doing," he rolled his eyes at his eldest daughter, who was staring at him with a furrow between her eyebrows. "Yes, Amelia?"

"You said you had a surprise for Grace and I," Amelia reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest, "you're home now, so you can tell us what it is!"

"Not until after supper," Amelia mom said as she walked into the room to give her husband a kiss on the cheek. "girls, go get cleaned up for supper."

Grace hurried out of the living room and her footsteps could be heard pounding up the stairs to her room.

"That means you, Amelia," her mother gently reminded her, "now."

Amelia scowled at the pair of them and trudged out of the living room, and proceeded to drag her feet up the stairs. Grace had already changed into a fresh pair of bloomers and was walking back down the stairs, "hurry up, Amelia! Mom was making French fries!"

Amelia entered her room and dragged out one of her skirts. She didn't particularly care for wearing bloomers all the time like a boy. On the other hand, she didn't want to wear skirts all the time like a typical girl either. Having put on her skirt, she went into the bathroom to try and wipe some of the mud off of her nose. Grace had a good arm for pitching, so it made sense to Amelia that she could throw a mud pie with some velocity behind it.

Everyone settled around the table and Amelia's mother began to fill their plates with chicken breasts and peas.

Grace looked around the table for the French fries, "Mother, where are the French fries?"

"I didn't make any," she answered, giving Grace a bigger helping of peas, "I'm making chips out of them."

After several minutes of no noises except the gentle clinking of silverware against the plates, their father set his knife and fork down on the edges of his plate. "Now then girls, I have something to ask the two of you."

"Yes?" they asked at the same time. Amelia was hoping that this was the surprise that he had been hinting at for almost a week now.

"How would you girls like to go to the State Fair?" he asked, smiling. "It's going to be a real shindig this year, I'm told."

"How would you know," Grace asked quietly, "we just moved here."

"The man who gave me the tickets told me about it, grace," he answered, "they're even going to be bringing in a biplane that will take people up for rides."

"A real airplane?" Amelia asked excitedly, "how does it work?"

Her father shrugged, "Who knows, those Wright brothers just managed to get lucky in my opinion. I hardly think that airplanes are going to become a mainstream thing, Amelia. They aren't safe, and this is the first airplane I've heard of that can handle passengers."

"When is the fair," Grace asked as she pushed her peas around her plate.

"In about nine weeks," her mother answered, "just enough time for me to make some chips to take along as food."

"Father?" Grace asked, "Did we move to Iowa just to go to this fair?"

Her parents chuckled. "No darling," her mother answered, "your father's job made him come out here. Not the fair."

"Oh, well then that's good!" Grace declared, taking a big bite of peas and then gagging on the taste, "I hate peas."

Authors Notes:

Edited 22/9/2014

This story and all other stories in its verse now have a tumblr, where updates and notes about them are posted. Simply go to lifeandtimesseries on tumblr, and be thrilled with what you find!