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~Freshman and still taller than many seniors~

The State of Tennessee
☀Andrew S. Hickory☀

Tennessee nearly dropped a plate himself when he heard his little brother call him "Nnessee." It was a little too close to the very effeminate "Nessy" and he gave Johnny the stink eye for it. "I swear you're wantin' me to pop you upside the head," he said with a light huff but he didn't seem anywhere near angry just yet. Andrew had a temper when it came to fighting, but he'd developed the patience of a saint when it came to dealing with all eight of his neighbors. Sometimes all of them at the same time plus a few siblings from down the street so to speak.

"I've been alright, I s'ppose," Andrew finally answered with a small shrug as he continued to help Argentina and moved over to the table to fold his own hand just to keep the game going while he was distracted. "I've been learnin' all sorts of stuff 'bout how to get along with nations. There are a whole lot more than I thought there were... Oh, an' I found out Thunderbirds are real. Imagine that, huh? Be careful walkin' those dogs of yours if it's stormin' outside, alright?"

He stayed quiet for the slaves and masters part of the conversation. That was the last thing he ever wanted to discuss again after the Civil War was over which was one of the main reasons he ratified the 13th Amendment in a hurry. There was nothing in the world Tennessee cared less about discussing than slavery ever again. Andrew eventually cast a wary glance Connecticut's way when he mentioned introducing Alabama to Massachusetts. "Is... Is that a good idea?" he asked cautiously knowing how unpredictable and sometimes unintentionally mean she could be. Well, Andrew liked to think it was unintentional at least...

Grade 9
The Volunteer

Romero sat back for a moment and watched the scene around him contentedly. Although this cook-off wasn't as exciting as Florida's and Cuba's evening party had been, it had still turned out better than he had initially expected. Granted, he hadn't seen Hungary and Austria for so long that he figured they weren't coming at all; but Japan and Tennessee had shown up, as they said they would. Franny had even come along--perhaps she had come uninvited, but she had dragged in two other states with her to enliven this extended dinner. Cherelle had come along too, although when Tennessee had awkwardly disengaged from her hug, she had settled to eating some of the food and watching Kiku cook some more. Andrew had never explained his earlier discomfiture to the Venezuelan, and his friend had already wandered off somewhere out of sight. And their third roommate Molossia had even shown up, despite his not knowing anything about the event at all! It was going to take quite some time to get used to having that loudmouth Molossia stuck here with him and Luis, Romero decided with a sigh. But in due time, they should be able to work out some sort of an agreement. One way or another. The Venezuelan's eyes lit with an ominous gleam, and he briefly rubbed his right fist with an open hand in that universal indicator that someone was going to get punched. Kevin had babbled something about bringing America in, hadn't he? Who would get it first, Molossia or America? The former he already disliked intensely, but the latter had attempted to meddle in his affairs for the so-called benefit of all Latin America for much longer than Molossia had even existed. Despite their prior friendships, that gringo went too far in presuming that he could ever control his Southern counterpart. The question was an interesting one to follow.

His violent little fantasy done, Romero swept his idle gaze about the room again, and he noticed Andrew's guitar lying abandoned near the others' forgotten bags. He walked over and crouched beside it, studying the instrument wonderingly. The guitar was the most popular instrument in almost all of Latin America, yet he had never shown much aptitude for it. Then again, the last time Romero had even tried to play had been shortly after the Guyana Crisis, and those squalling attempts had been so horrible that even England had left abruptly and given up the valley west of the Essequibo without additional fuss. Could he do any better this time? He cast a quick glance at Tennessee. Andrew seemed to be busy helping Luis with the table. Surely he wouldn't mind if he tried a brief tune? Romero sat down, placed the guitar in his lap, and attempted to strum a melody he remembered hearing often back home.

It took him a little while to figure out how to play the appropriate notes, but once he figured out the basic pattern, Romero could actually play the large instrument with a minimum of grace. Enthralled, he continued on with the traditional tune.

The State of Tennessee
☀Andrew S. Hickory☀

"But it's true..." Tennessee muttered then hesitated when he recalled Leah squawking about the Jersey Devil in the past. Perhaps two or three days ago he would have immediately sided with Connecticut that they were fictional, but after going to rescue Hawaii from a Thunderbird he wondered what other bits of Massachusetts' crazy talk actually wasn't crazy after all. He snapped out of his thoughts when Conne admitted introducing their less than sane sibling wasn't really the best of ideas yet probably necessary. Andrew sighed unhappily at the prospect of tainting Johnny's innocence, but perhaps it was about time little 'Bama met the big bad witch of the North. "Fine, but maybe me or North Carolina should go too... Just in case."

Andrew took a hint from seeing Luis start eating and grabbed himself a plate, too. He blinked in surprise after shoveling a fork full of chimichurri in his mouth then smiled over at his latest friend. "Hey, thish stuff is p'rty goowd!" he praised between bites. The state started to say something else when he felt a shiver run through his body. Tennessee stiffened at first before slowly relaxing. It certainly wasn't a bad or painful feeling, but whenever someone played one of his vital regions it sent chills through his body. The Volunteer State reached for Nashville which he normally kept glued to his side and paled when he realized it wasn't there. The boy looked up and finally noticed it was in Venezuela's hands. Something about seeing his capital cradled in the lap of someone he had only just met made Andrew's chest fill with anxiety, but surely Romero wouldn't do anything bad to Nashville, right? The nation had no way of knowing his guitar was actually such an important part of him even if he was an enemy... right?

"U-Um... that's a nice song..." he said a bit awkwardly as he internally squirmed and wanted to kick himself for letting Nashville go for a moment. He wouldn't even let his siblings play his guitar without his careful supervision, but just snatching it away seemed rude after how nice Venezuela had been to him. He seemed like a respectable person so maybe it was ok...

Grade 9
The Volunteer

Romero’s attention returned to Andrew when he seemed to appreciate his song. The discomfiture on his face proved otherwise, though; Tennessee looked physically pained at finding his guitar in Venezuela’s lap. Did he really fare so poorly with music? “Lo siento, Andrew,” he apologized, handing over the state’s instrument and rubbing the back of his neck with some embarrassment. “I noticed you were playing poker with the other states, and thought that you were too busy for me to ask. How’s the game going, anyway?” he added quickly, attempting to divert the conversation while piling a plate with korroke, paella, and hallacas, oblivious to the instrument’s significance to Tennessee.

“Perhaps all of you states in a given region could band together and make one large booth,” Romero mused. “We South Americans might do the same come festival day. Surely you have something that defines you well enough to set up a booth for? Perhaps music or some other dear cultural item?” Unfortunately, he couldn’t elaborate on that, for he had never visited any of the states firsthand. Even when he and America got along better, their communications were mostly digital.

The Venezuelan’s focused expression melted into one of amusement as he watched Andrew partake of the various foods that had already been prepared. The country boy was eating the chimichurri sauce as if it were pudding, without adding it to a meat instead. “Oye, chico,” he told him, grinning, “I don’t think the sauce was meant to eat plain. Do you want to add that to some churrasco or Argentine steak instead?”

The State of Tennessee
☀Andrew S. Hickory☀

Tennessee hummed thoughtfully as he considered Romero's suggestion. Maybe it would make more sense to pull the Solid South together as a team. Well, they weren't quite as solid as they used to be, but the Southerners generally stuck together on most things. Team work wasn't foreign to them even though there were a few petty little rivalries here and there. He hesitated and blushed a little when Romero asked about what set him apart from the others. "Um... I guess my music would be the main thing," he admitted. "There is some other stuff, but nothin' that really stands out too much." When Tennessee wasn't on stage he was a relatively quiet young man unless circumstances forced him to step forward.

Andrew paused when Venezuela pointed out he was eating the chimichurri the wrong way and looked down at his plate. The state was quiet for a moment before blushing. "O-Oh..." he blurted out tactfully. "I guess steak might be a good idea."

Tennessee glanced over at Connecticut and Alabama when they started talking about creepy places. He still didn't get why so many of his family members were interested in those sorts of things. Andrew never considered the ghosts at his home to be fun. More often than not they were the lost souls of soldiers from one of the wars that had taken place in his lands and generally more pitiful than exciting. Perhaps to his family members the most exciting paranormal creature in his home was the Bell Witch. Tennessee cringed at the thought of dealing with her.

Grade 9
The Volunteer