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Full Moon

Gilbert, Francis and Antonio were collectively known as the ‘Bad Friends Trio.’ Nobody could remember exactly how the name had started, but there was no denying that it fit. And so it stuck.

But don’t be mistaken: it wasn’t because they were bad friends – either to each other, or the rest of the kids they knew. They were fiercely loyal, and fun to be around. It was just that they were a trio of friends who were bad when they were together. Well, not really bad bad. More like…anarchic.

The ‘Bad Influence on their Friends Trio’, really.

Mooning Principal Beilschmidt was just par for course. Someone suggested it, it was funny and rude and against the rules – and so it had to be done. Plus, Principal Beilschmidt was Gilbert’s grandfather (or “vati,” as the German boy called him), so it didn’t seem as atrocious a crime as mooning some other poor adult.

Getting caught was unusual for them. Sure, they loved the risk of getting in trouble, but that was mostly because they were so good at getting away with everything. The BFT were infamous for a reason, after all: they were always behind the trouble-making, and everyone knew it – but they could never get pinned to the crime.

This time, though, they were unlucky. Not unlucky enough to be caught red-handed (or red-bottomed, as it were). Just unlucky enough that there was a hitch.

A hitch by the name of Alfred F. Jones.

“What did the principal say?”

“Did vati give you detention?”

Alfred was swarmed the moment he stepped out into the playground, as Gilbert, Francis and Antonio swooped down on him like vultures. Alfred sighed, wondering if the three boys were actually worried about him, or only about saving their own skins. They were good guys, but they could be a little self-obsessed sometimes – especially when it came to their pranks.

“He gave me a lecture, he said I need to tell him the names of the kids who mooned him, and yes, I got detention. Every day until I tell him your names.”

The Bad Friends Trio huddled closer around the American boy, lowering their voices so as not to be overheard. Not that they really need to: the playground was alive with children and noise at the end of the school day, and the four fifth-graders only looked more suspicious standing still and tense amidst all the excitement.

“So he saw three kids mooning him in the hallway, but he didn’t see our faces?” Antonio confirmed carefully.

“Yeah. You guys ran away too quick.”

“But we passed by you in the hall when we were running away,” Gilbert whispered loudly, apparently unable to dampen the level his voice and risk denying the world of his awesomeness. “Vati saw you weren’t part of our group, so why is he punishing you with detention?”

“Because I’m a witness,” Alfred explained. “He knows I saw your faces when you ran past me, but I said I wouldn’t tell on you.”

The three boys started at Alfred’s bold altruism.

“Really? You won’t tell?” asked Antonio, eyes wide. It wasn’t like this level of loyalty and courage was unusual for Alfred. But none of them had ever been put in such a dire situation before. Loyalty or detention? That was a tough one.

It was another one of those moral conundrums that seemed to follow Alfred around everywhere, testing his ambitions of heroism with something new every day. Choosing between being the type of hero who protected his friends, or the type of hero who could stand up to them if they did something against the rules – it was a dilemma that would keep Alfred occupied for quite some time. And they couldn’t afford to leave him to make up his own mind in case he made the wrong choice. (Well, “wrong” as far as they were concerned.)

“But we did something bad,” said Francis, slowly, warily. As happy as he was to believe that Alfred wouldn’t turn them in, Francis wanted to be absolutely sure. If Alfred had genuinely made up his mind not to tell, then Francis would believe him – but if there was any doubt, then they would have to win him round to their side. “Technically, we should be punished.”

“FRANCIS!” Gilbert exclaimed, staring at his friend in dismay. “You idiot! Don’t change his mind! He wants to protect us!”

Francis waved a hand at him, and turned back to Alfred. He held the boys shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.

“We did something wrong, and it’s right for us to be punished instead of letting you take the fall,” Francis continued, as Gilbert reeled in confusion behind him. “But it was just a harmless joke, and it’s very brave of you to protect your friends like this. So you have to decide which one is more important to you. Which one is ‘doing the right thing’? The decision is yours, but if you plan on going back on your word and turning us in to Principal Beilschmidt you should tell us now, not promise to protect us and then change your mind.”

Alfred’s eyes darkened behind his glasses, and he scowled at the French boy.

“I’m not a snitch, Francis. And I’m not a liar. I told you I’ll keep your guys’ secret, so I will.”

The Bad Friends Trio let out a collective sigh and Francis dropped his hands from Alfred’s shoulder to give him a slap on the back.

“Then we owe you one, hero.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

True to his word, Principal Beilschmidt called Alfred for detention every day after school. And it became very clear, very fast, that this was not a matter of waiting it out until the principal got bored and cancelled their sessions. Beilschmidt was as strict as he was stubborn, and he took the utmost pride in running a good school. He wouldn’t give up, and he wouldn’t give in. There really was no escape for Alfred on this one.

But that didn’t mean he’d be worn down, either.

Some days they just sat in silence, as the principal stared at him. Some days, the principal told him rambling parables and allegories about how brave it was to tell the truth. There was very little bribery, because Principal Beilschmidt was classy like that, but sometimes he did submit to offering gum or chocolate – and even once, in a rare fit of desperation, to offering Alfred a permanent hall pass valid for the rest of the year.

He even went so far as to lecture Alfred, repeatedly, on the so-called ‘risks’ of mooning: announcing how dangerous it was, listing the tragedies that could arise from such a stupid prank.

“This isn’t a joke, young man,” he announced on day one. “Do you think exposing portions of your anatomy to your school principal is funny?”

“Well…I guess it depends.”

“Depends on what?” demanded Principal Beilschmidt, an eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“The…situation?” Alfred supplied, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

“Mooning is not funny!” the principal barked. “You may think it’s just a schoolyard prank, but let me assure it is not. Someone could put an eye out!

“Because of mooning?” Alfred asked, incredulous.

“I’ll ask the questions here.”

It didn’t take long for Alfred to realise that Principal Beilschmidt was…weirdly passionate about this whole mooning thing…

But Alfred had made up his mind on how to handle this situation: he was going to protect his friends, and not be a tattle-tale. It had been a split second decision, with no time to ask his aunt and uncle for advice as he usually did – but he was sure it was the right thing to do. Protecting his friends seemed far more important than getting them in a bit of trouble just because he could.

Francis and Antonio trusted that Alfred would stick to his word – that he could persevere until Beilschmidt gave up and let him go.

Gilbert, on the other hand, was not so convinced that anyone could be that stupidly decent.

“Look: he’s my grandfather, Alfred, I know how his mind works,” Gilbert insisted, cutting off the American boy in the hallway one day. “He is not going to give up, and he’ll get you to spill everything in the end! He once stared at me so hard I told him I was the one who broke the TV when I was 7, even though he just wanted to know if I’d fed the dogs that day. He has powers!”

“Thanks for the warning, Gil, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Alfred said, taken aback at Gilbert’s wide, fearful red eyes. “If you want to tell him the truth, then that’s fine. But I promised I’d keep your secret and I never break a promise.”

With that, he edged his way around Gilbert and carried on down the hallway, leaving the worried albino boy behind. Gil wasn’t being heartless or uncaring, he was just suffering from a guilty conscience, that was all, Alfred told himself. Everything would work out for the best, just so long as Alfred followed his heart and did the right thing. If he could set an example like, maybe one of the BFT would do it, too.

But this philosophy – which had never failed him before – was suddenly tested during his detention that afternoon, when Principal Beilschmidt slid a manila folder across his desk towards Alfred.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked.

“Well, it says ‘Permanent Record’ on i–”

“It’s your permanent record, Mr. Jones.”

“Oh…Right.”

And suddenly, Alfred was a little nervous.

Principal Beilschmidt leaned forward in his desk and gave Alfred his best stern glare. “I won’t deny that it’s admirable how you’re sticking up for your fellow classmates. Personally, I’m glad to see some solidarity in the school. But I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation, young man.”

Alfred blinked up at him. “‘Gravity?’ What do you mean? It was just mooning.”

“MOONING ISN’T FUNNY!” Principal Beilschmidt bellowed, standing up and slamming his hands down on the desk. “YOU COULD – ”

“ – put your eye out…”

“PUT YOUR EYE OUT! Exactly!”

Alfred shrank back in his seat. Everyone knew Principal Beilschmidt was stern and scary, but this was the first time Alfred had ever seen him yell. He suddenly felt a lot of sympathy for Gilbert, who must have been on the receiving end of this menacing attitude quite a lot, to be so scared of his grandfather. The poor German boy had known what was coming and had tried to warn Alfred.

But still, Alfred wasn’t worried. Principal Beilschmidt wasn’t angry at him. And even if he were, Alfred was sure he was doing the right thing – and once he had that reassuring thought in mind, Alfred could put himself through anything.

Principal Beilschmidt sat back down, tucking his long golden hair gracefully behind his ears.

“I’ve spent my whole life surrounded by jokes about private parts and people talking freely about crude and vulgar things,” said the principal, looking out the window with a glare (Alfred suspected he might not even be talking to him anymore). “I’m sick of it. It’s not appropriate, it’s not cool, and it’s not funny.”

He glanced at Alfred, who was watching him in confusion.

“A-and certainly not in a school!” Principal Beilschmidt floundered, coming back to the situation. “Because it’s dangerous! So even if these boys don’t care about how inconsiderate they are being towards their principal, they should at least know the dangers of mooning to stop them risking it ever again.”

“I know, sir,” mumbled Alfred, glancing worriedly at the manila folder as the principal placed a hand firmly upon it.

“I’m sorry to have to do this Mr. Jones,” sighed Mr. Beilschmidt. Alfred had to admit, the man did look genuinely sad about it, so he couldn’t find it in himself to hate the principal for what he was doing. “You’re a good boy, and I don’t like to use threats. But you leave me with no choice. Those three students committed a school crime; and out in the real world, a witness who withholds evidence of a crime can also be punished. This isn’t a matter of being bad and snitching on your friends; this is about co-operation and standing up for the law. This is the right thing to do, young man.”

Alfred nodded, swallowing a nervous lump in his throat.

“I’ll give you one more week of detention. If you don’t tell me those boys’ names by next Friday…I’m afraid I’ll have to note it in your permanent record.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“He’s gonna tell! He’s gonna tell on us, I just know it!”

“Calm down, Gilbert. Alfred would never tattle on us,” Francis reassured his friend as they sat in their tree-house, discussing the news. “Have some faith in him.”

Antonio watched as Francis flipped casually through a magazine, and Gilbert sat biting his nails and looking nervously out the window. “Maybe…Maybe we should confess?” he supplied.

Gilbert’s red eyes flashed towards him. “WHAT?!”

Antonio twiddled with his overalls, a worried frown on his face. The guilt had been gnawing at him far more than it had Francis, and Gilbert was too busy being paranoid to worry about his guilt. “Don’t you think maybe it’s a bit unfair for Alfred to take the blame for what we did?”

Francis gave his Spanish friend a calculated look. They weren’t bad boys, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t felt a bit guilty about the whole thing, too. But he much preferred worrying over a bit of guilt than worrying over the wrath of the Principal.

“Are you saying you want to tell Beilschmidt we’re the ones who mooned him, and get Alfred off the hook? Even if it means we all get a mark on our permanent record?” asked Francis.

“Don’t you think we kind of owe it to Alfred?”

Francis thought about it. “Arthur did threaten me the other day,” he mused. “He doesn’t know why Alfred has had so much detention but he must have guessed we were behind it because he cornered me and told me to put an end to it. I’d almost rather go and confess to Beilschmidt than face old rosbif’s wrath again.”

“Nein, nein, nein!” Gilbert cried, jumping up and interrupting Antonio before he could reply. “Alfred got caught, that’s his fault, not ours. We got away with what we did, and that’s all that counts. If Alfred wants to stick up for us, then fine. We didn’t ask him to, so we don’t owe him anything! All we wanted to do was avoid getting caught and we did. We didn’t do anything wrong! So nobody is going to vati’s office and telling him what we did. NOBODY! You got it?”

Francis and Antonio shared a solemn look.

“…I guess there’s no sense in all four of us getting punished…” Antonio relented. “And Alfred’s a good kid – one mark on his permanent record won’t make much difference.”

Francis only shrugged. “I agree with Gilbert: it’s Alfred’s decision, not ours.”

Gilbert sat down, appeased, and a heavy hush fell over the creaky treehouse.

“But you know…” Francis said slowly, “we still have to make it till Friday. You think Alfred will crack and spill the beans?” he asked.

“I don’t think I could take the pressure,” Antonio commented.

“No,” Gilbert exclaimed, slamming his fist on the wooden floorboards and rattling the whole tree house. “Alfred’s a good guy. He’s not going to rat on us.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Did you rat?”

“No, Gilbert,” Alfred sighed, as the German boy confronted him on the school steps after that day’s detention. They’d had the same exchange every evening since Beilschmidt had announced he’d be making a note on Alfred’s permanent record that coming Friday. It seemed that Gilbert didn’t believe Alfred would be able to hold out against such a threat.

“You’re lying! Why would you do this for us?” Gilbert asked, following Alfred towards his bus stop.

“Um…because I’m your friend?”

“Yeah, but it’s your permanent record, Alfred!”

“I know that, Gil,” Alfred growled, turning on the German boy.

Gilbert juddered to a halt in his pursuit, staring at the blonde boy in amazement. “And you’re still not going to tell on us?”

“No. I won’t.”

“Well why NOT?!” Gilbert exclaimed, sounding truly exasperated, like he just couldn’t wrap his head around how Alfred could be okay with this.

“Because, it wouldn’t be right,” Alfred said simply. “I’m not gonna tattle-tale.”

“But you’ve had weeks of detention and you didn’t even do anything wrong! If I was you and you were me I would have ratted you out on the first day!”

Alfred frowned, growing a little tired of Gilbert’s attitude. After all Afred had done for him these past few weeks, keeping his secret at great personal cost, Gilbert still didn’t trust his word. “Well, maybe you would have told on a friend, but I didn’t. That’s what you have to understand, Gilbert: we’re very different people, it seems.”

Gilbert stared, open-mouthed, as Alfred got onto his bus and was whisked away without a backward glance.

He believed Alfred now. He knew the American wouldn’t rat them out.

But somehow that didn’t make him feel any better…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was Friday. Principal Beilschmidt and Alfred F. Jones were sat in their usual places, staring each other down. It had become such a routine it felt like Alfred’s life had always been this way – he couldn’t even remember what he used to do after school before his time was taken up with detention. What would he do once this was all over?

He had to admit, he was nervous, not to mention irritated. He didn’t feel that he deserved the mark on his permanent record. But he wasn’t disappointed in Principal Beilschmidt for being so stern. He was disappointed in the Bad Friends Trio.

Of course he didn’t expect them to save him: he had decided to protect them of his own accord, and didn’t need to be paid back for his actions. But still, he thought they were better than this. He thought that at least one of them would have done the right thing when one of their friends was in trouble.

The seconds were ticking by slowly, each click of the clock’s hand echoing in the silent office.

“Five more minutes, Mr. Jones,” said Beilschmidt without even checking the clock. “You can still tell me the names of the mooners and we’ll forget all of this ever happened.”

Alfred kept his mouth shut, and the principal sighed. He flipped open the front cover of the manila folder holding Alfred’s permanent record, and ran his finger down the page. Then he opened a desk drawer and pulled out a shiny black box, lifting the lid to reveal a permanent black marker. The sound when he uncapped the lid was deafening in Alfred’s ears, and set the boy’s heart racing.

“One last chance, Alfred. I know it can be hard to do the right thing, but just listen to your instincts and I know you can do it.”

“I will, sir.”

But instead of giving up the names of the offenders, Alfred went quiet again. He had made his decision - and now it was time to finish this. Principal Beilschmidt nodded in understanding and admiration of the boy's choice, and brought his pen to Alfred’s permanent record

“I DID IT! It was ME!”

The screaming was so loud it covered the sound of the door bursting open as Gilbert crashed into the principal’s office.

“Gilbert,” the principal growled in warning, clearly embarrassed by his grandson making such a scene.

“No, vati, it’s important!!” Gilbert wailed, carried away in his own personal drama. “I’M SORRY! Alfred is completely innocent. I’m the mooner!”

And now Antonio and Francis appeared behind Gilbert in the doorway, the three friends looking equally traumatised.

“I’m guilty, too!” Antonio sobbed. “I should have come sooner! I’ve been such a bad friend! Alfred, can you ever forgive me! Oh, mi amigo, lo sientio mucho!!” With that he collapsed to his knees and cried into his hands. Principal Beilschmidt and Alfred exchanged startled looks.

“Me, too,” said Francis, a bit more solemn than the others. “We all did it together. We’re here to confess of our own free will – but please: don’t take that into consideration when coming up with our punishments,” he added, raising a hand to his face with a flourish, and summoning an expression of much exaggerated chivalry. “We only want to be treated fairly. Especially your grandson Gilbert, Principal Beilschmidt. Don’t give us any special treatment just because he’s your blood-relative.”

Principal Beilschmidt sighed wearily and looked towards Alfred, who stared back rather shocked at this turn of events.

“Thank you very much for your help, Alfred. You may go now.”

Alfred didn't waste a second in slipping eagerly out of that accursed chair and making his escape. “Um…thanks guys,” he said as he passed the Bad Friends Trio in the doorway – but they were too busy crying and being dramatic to notice.

They’d calmed down by the time they left the school building, though. Alfred was waiting for them outside in the glowing orange sunset, and was surprised to see they all looked quite cheerful.

“What happened?” he asked as the three boys descended the front steps of the school.

“He said he knew it us the whole time,” Gilbert replied with a sheepish smile. “‘There could only be one boy in this school with such a pasty posterior,’” he mimicked, voice low and serious in an impression of his grandfather. “And since he knew one of the mooners was me, he guessed the others must be Toni and Francis.”

“He was waiting for us to step forward and do the right thing. Something about teaching us a lesson or something,” Antonio explained. “He did want to teach you the importance of co-operating with the law and stuff, but he was more concerned with us, so he’s not going to punish you this time.”

Alfred sighed gratefully, watching as Francis flicked his hair and looked up at the sky. “The old toad didn’t go easy on us, but that doesn’t matter. I just feel so much better getting the truth out.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t live with the guilt,” Gilbert agreed, nodding vigorously.

“You sure gave it a good try,” Alfred smirked at him, jokingly.

Antonio slung an arm around the American's shoulder playfully as Gilbert twisted his hands and scuffed at the ground in guilt.

“I’m real sorry, Al. We all are,” the German boy mumbled.

Alfred just smiled, never one to hold a grudge. The Bad Friends Trio had come through in the end, and that was worth all the trouble they’d put him through in the mean time. They’d learnt a valuable lesson, and that was all Alfred could ask for.

“It’s okay guys. Just don’t leave me hanging that long again, okay?”

“Of course, amigo. We’ve got your back,” said Antonio, his face back to its usual benign smile.

“So…you forgive us?” asked Gilbert hopefully.

“Of course,” Alfred beamed. “That’s what friends do!”

The four of them set off for the bus stop together, the school grounds still and quiet as the sun set over the city.

“You guys are okay with getting a mark on your permanent record?” Alfred inquired. “You know that record follows you all the way to junior high!”

“It’s fine, I didn’t think I’d make it to junior high anyways,” said Gilbert, hands clasped leisurely behind his head, back to his old confident self.

“I still think Principal Beilschmidt was too harsh on us,” Francis mused. “Maybe we should teach him a lesson.”

“Yeah!” Gilbert exclaimed, a familiar mischeivous look flashing across his face. Alfred felt his heart sink in anticipation. “What do you say tomorrow we make a sign that says “Kick Me” and stick on his back!”

“Um, guys?” said Alfred meekly. “Can you plan your pranks some other time when I’m not around to be a witness. I don’t really want to go through this again…”

-------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Writing a cheesy 90s kids cartoon with an important moral lesson is really hard.

I drew these pictures in November of last year, so they are not up to my current standard (not that that’s all that great). I didn’t have the time or inclination to redraw them, so here they are in all their outdated glory.

I also started this fic last winter, too – but I find it so hard writing characters that aren’t Alfred or Arthur that I swiftly got disheartened and gave up. However, I’m currently procrastinating another project, so what better time to work on this year old illustrated fic than RIGHT NOW!

I can’t remember why I chose to do a “Hey Hetalia!” version of this particular episode. I think I just wanted to draw Principal Beilschmidt on the “Mooning Isn’t Funny” poster. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. This is the first non-USUK fanfic I’ve ever written! Damn, it was hard!!

Although Francis, Antonio and Gilbert aren’t exact equivalents of any “Hey Arnold!” characters, I’ve still assigned them similar roles.

Antonio is Stinky – a country bumpkin living in the city.

Francis is Harold – the leader of the troublemaking group.

And Gilbert is Sid – because Sid is awesome.

(Although in this fic, Gilbert plays the role Harold had in the ‘Full Moon’ episode.)

I don’t know when I’ll be able to do another “Hey Hetalia!” illustrated fic, but I definitely plan to do more in the future. I don’t care if nobody follows this AU – I fricking love it.

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