Author's Note: I'm rewriting chapter one completely, instead of revising it. I made so many mistakes from chapter one and on, I think it'd just be better to redo the whole story. The plot, for the most part, will remain the same. I'm very sorry to ask you all to reread this, but please do. For the sake of my pride.

I'll be rewriting each chapter in order, as well as posting new ones. The rewrites will probably end at chapter Fourteen. Unless I think I need to redo anything else after that. But probably not.

On a sunny day, under a clear, endless blue sky, many middle-aged adults crammed mostly unwilling personifications into the large, domed center building of the World Academy.

For the previous week, the personifications of any minor country, city, town, village, state, and province had been loading suitcase after suitcase into the large, four-storied dorms on the east side of the campus.

One student in particular had been noted: Illinois. She'd come before everyone else, moved into a random dorm room on the third floor of the Female dorm—of course, the one she'd been assigned had been 'too small'.-and started painting. Bright, fierce green.

Now, when the principal—Mr. Dylan, a kind man, and quite a push-over—had come into the dorm, she'd coerced him into letting her have her way. She'd not even a slap on the wrist for her disobedience. Her boss had been notified. He didn't care in the least.

The vice-principal had decided that she hated Miss Megan Jones with a passion after that. Decided that any little thing she did from now on would result in the fiercest punishment she could administer. Saturday detention.

Of course, they always had the stocks as a threat, but that would result in a scandal, or a lawsuit. Besides, the loss of a perfectly good weekend was enough to set most students in line. Even ones that were several centuries older than herself.

Megan Jones felt that the sky should match her dread of the first day of school. August twenty-ninth should have been a dreary, rain-drenched day. In addition to her hatred of the educational establishment, the one she'd meant to meet with at the doors had stood her up. And in his place? His roommate.

An old annoyance of Illinois—Wisconsin.

He was a slightly chubby boy, with golden-blonde curls and sweet, pale blue eyes. He had a love of cheese, and always had a bit of a sweet spot for the girl he'd derived from. Otherwise known as Illinois, Megan Jones, the one who'd hated him since his birth.

Of course, the one Megan had planned to meet didn't know anything about that. It wasn't something she liked to talk about, obviously. Her territory being split so shamefully... That abomination that followed her around and called himself a state. Ha. Bastard.

He hadn't meant for Megan to be alone. It was a sweet gesture, all the same, but Illinois would have none of it.

"Megan, please," Wisconsin said softly, trying to calm her down, "you're being silly."

Megan scoffed cruelly and stared him down with cold eyes, "You're being a tool."

"Wh-what? Why would you even say that?"

She gave no reply, simply looking past him, over his shoulder, into the school lobby. Target aquired.

"Alaska!" She called out, "Katie!"

A tall, willowy girl turned around. Her silvery hair flew about her innocently, though her gaze was murderous. "Ah, hello, big sister."

Illinois threw her arms around the younger girl, "I missed you so much, Katie!"

Katherine smiled sweetly at the brunette, almost three inches shorter than her, and returned the hug. "And I, you."

"I didn't see you all summer! I was so lonely!" Megan cried, nuzzling her face into the other girl's neck.

"I tried to visit, of course." The blonde spoke, "You weren't there."

"Oh!" Illinois released Alaska from her grasp and grinned sheepishly, "I was in Belgium back in July."

Alsaska gave no thought to this news, "Anyway, have you seen New Jersey? I lost her when we got here?"

"You came together?"

"Oh, yes. She hasn't been here since the renovation—it would be dangerous for her to come alone."

"Well. You're nice."

"Thank you."

Illinois gave her little sister a salute, then stomped off into the room adjacent to the lobby—the gymnasium.

Many of the students had taken the bleachers up and most of the steel folding chairs on the gym floor. The eternal chatter echoed around the large dome ceiling and made it nearly impossible for any one of the students to think. But the chatter continued, despite their absent thoughts.

Illinois placed herself in the third row of the left wing, beside Iowa, who was linked arm-and-arm with Ohio. They both smiled at her as she sat, though she seemed in a bad way.

"Hey, Meggie." Iowa pulled a small bundle of corn muffins from her satchel, "Want one?"

"Nope." The older girl crossed her arms and glared at the center of the gym floor, where a small stage and podium were set up.

"What's your problem, stupid?" Ohio asked.

"Your face," She replied steadily.

Iowa looked uncomfortable at their ease to speak so... harshly with each other. But they had known each other longer than they'd known her. Perhaps cruelty and insensitivity came easily if one regarded the other as a sibling. Or perhaps just with time.

Iowa and Illinois' dorm mate Singapore was sitting behind them with several of what could be her siblings, or, whatever she regarded them as.

An announcement sounded over the loudspeaker for all the students to head into the gymnasium. Illinois scoffed, though the others seated around her looked slightly annoyed. Some wondered aloud where her Underling was, and some tried to hush those asking too many questions for fear of danger.

To clear up any confusion, Illinois' Underling was someone who was terribly unlucky to be forced into her company for an entire school year. Four unlucky souls for every thirty years had to follow her around while she chattered on about nothing, … An entire year...

No one bothered to debate it with her. Because one, she was impossible to argue with, and two, that any former underling was blessed with unmatched luckiness once the term was over. Suffering through Illinois' company for nine months for ten years of riches and social well-being? Mostly worth it.

For this high school career, her previous Underlings had been Ohio for sophomore, and Missouri for freshman. As of her junior year, none had officially been named. Rumors had named Wisconsin, but the likelihood of that was so low that all rumors were regarded as false.

Up on the podium, a handsome boy with light brown hair prepared for his speech. His eyes locked with a girl's in the bleachers. He gulped. She looked mad. Two rows behind her, looking melancholy was Wisconsin—he'd probably been harassed by her. Really, after spending an entire summer together, you'd think Illinois would grow up and stop acting so demanding.

He coughed into the microphone as the principal took his seat. As soon as the first two words came out of his mouth, Illinois jumped up.

He paused, and she did not speak.

And he spoke again, and so did she.

"YOU'RE AN ASSHAT! SERIOUSLY!"

He took a step back from the microphone, every eye in the room fixated on Megan Jones.

She looked awfully pleased with herself.

She descended down the cement steps o the gym floor, and all the students in the fold-out chairs twisted around in their seats to see her.

She came nose to nose with Flanders when she reached the podium. Whispers began about how the two might have become acquainted. Was Illinois a jilted lover of this man? This, Flanders? Was he the new Underling?

"You ditched me." She shoved him.

"I sent Wisconsin."

"A poor substitute."

"In my defense, I thought you were friends."

"Never," she pouted. "He's a bastard."

"Excuse me," The principal said warily, not stepping to close to the Belgian and the American, "But can we get on with this?"

Illinois nodded, "Of course. Once he apologizes."

"For what?!"

"Being a tool."

In the end, the principal made Flanders apologize, and Illinois got to sit with the teachers on the podium. No one was entirely sure why she was allowed to.

"Claude, dude," Illinois grabbed the Belgian by his wrist as he tried desperately to escape to the lobby and leave to the Language Department.

"What? We have to get to class."

"What do you have first hour? I've got some people for you to meet," Megan said.

"English." He said bitterly.

"Fantastic," she cried, and proceeded to drag him outside and across the lawn to their next class.

The English classroom was majorly empty, save for Iowa and Ohio, who were discussing something quietly at the back table.

Illinois dove to embrace Iowa, who was hesitant to return it.

"Hello, Megan."

"Hey, hey, guys. I've got someone for you to meet," She grinned, and grabbed Flanders by his collar, "This is Claude. He's the bro I spent the summer with."

"Oh, well, nice to meet you." Iowa smiled.

Ohio nodded, "We've heard so little about you. You must suck."

Illinois found that rather funny, and Flanders cringed. Such brutish humor didn't amuse him at all. And it was then when he decided that all the American students were definitely not worth talking to at all. He'd met most of them in this three years at school, and only unfortunate things had occurred in the time since.

Claude took his seat next to Illinois, as he figured she wouldn't take it too well if he didn't sit beside her. After a moment, just as the bell rang, his sister came into the room, and sat across the isle from him.

She blinked twice, then realized who he was, "Claude! I missed you!"

She laughed and grinned and stood to hug him, though he did not stand for her.

"Claude, I love what you're wearing. I didn't know we didn't have to wear the uniform." She gestured to her blazer and skirt, "I tried my best with it, what do you think?"

"It's fine, Lisette." He sighed, and cupped his cheek with the palm of his hand.

"Oh," she gasped, and reached out towards him, "You've got a cowlick, do you want me to—"

He swatted her hands away, his cheeks pink, "Hands to yourself."

"Come on, Claude. Just let me fix your hair!"

They continued on for a few more minutes, until Singapore—who'd been sitting in front of Wallonia—decided to stand and exit the teacher-less classroom. Illinois was the first to notice, which startled Iowa, as she shouted at the Asian nation, "Hey, Where ya' goin'?"

She was not met with a response.

Author's Note: Yeah, I told you. Mostly the same. But slightly better. I tried to add more explanation and detail. I also tried to put in more dialogue, bigger scenes with characters, hints to the other chapters, so on. I don't think I did it very well, though. And I apologize.

-VstavajSonce