I doodled an eye, an intricate iris, delicate eyelashes, in my history binder, not paying an inkling of attention to Yamazaki-sensei's monotonous lecture.

"And that is why King Henry VIII is regarded as one of England's most unsatisfactory monarchs," he concluded, tapping the blackboard with a useless stub of white chalk. Many students, including myself, barely managed to stifle a yawn and a sigh of relief.

Tamaki Suoh, the quintessential dumb blonde, was examining his nails (perfectly filed and manicured, no less) and throwing the occasional "charming" wink to a group of giggling girls, whose cheeks were tinted a cherry blossom pink at the slight affectionate gesture.

I rolled my eyes in disgust. Pretty boy.

And at long last, the moment we had all been waiting for arrived. Humming along to the final bell's glorious music, I leapt to my feet and tipped my stack of binders into my paint-splattered backpack, grabbing my violin case from its usual spot next to my desk. Without so much as a courteous nod of farewell, I practically sprinted out of the classroom, tugging out a crumpled sheet of music from my bag.

Gazing at the notes and imagining what they would sound like filling an echoey concert hall, I meandered around the shockingly pink corridors in search of a peaceful room where I could play undisturbed to my heart's content. Easier said than done, as I had learned the hard way on my first day, during which I looked in vain only to find the entire goddamn place sprawling with spoiled brats.

God, did anyone actually do work at this school? Entitled bastards.

I ambled left, turned right, and walked until I collided into a door. Music #3, a plaque hanging just above my head read. My curiosity piqued, I pressed my ear against the wood, listening for any hint that someone was inside. The room was completely silent.

Perfect.

Oh, where are my manners? I'm Ayame Nakamura, a complete and utter nobody.

I guess you could say that I had an ordinary sob story that always earned me undeserved, unwanted pity. My mother died when I was too young to even remember what she looked like, leaving me with a microscopic savings account to get by. That hardly made a difference, though, since my father frittered it away to drink away his grief. Having lived in near poverty my entire life, I was no stranger to hard work.

But in the last few months, I'd had to bust my ass even more than usual. After all, my arts scholarship for Ouran only covered about half of the tuition, leaving me to somehow cough up the other portion. At that point, things were looking pretty grim. As the administration had made very clear, if I wasn't able to pay my first installment within the next month, I could kiss their rich asses good-bye.

I flung the door open, but before I could take another step, I was blinded by a bright light and a curtain of rose petals. When I was finished wailing in agony, I managed to peek through my fingers, glimpsing a posse of attractive teenage boys lounging in the center of the room.

I immediately whipped around and gripped the door handle, embarrassed to have intruded on...well, whatever the hell this was. "Sorry, um, wrong room," I mumbled. Oh God, this was awkward. What, was I deaf or something? How could I have missed this?

Before I could make my great escape, however, their ringleader (Tamaki, I realized with a start) appeared in a flash before me and and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Gentleman!" he trilled. "It appears that we have a new guest!"

I kneed him in the chest; if you can't already tell, I wasn't exactly the touchy feely type. "Get your filthy hands off of me! Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Suoh?"

A pair of twins strode forward, both sporting unruly masses of copper hair and pale green eyes. I'd seen identical twins before, but these two were so in sync that it was almost unnerving. "Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh," the one on the right muttered, elbowing the other in the ribs.

Ignoring them, I heaved a sigh, conceding, "Okay, fine. I apologize. But if it isn't too much trouble, will you kindly let me leave?"

Tamaki frowned at me and tightened his grip. "No, no, no. You're not leaving just yet. From the very moment you stepped inside this room, you've become a guest of the Ouran Host Club! From now on, our mission is to make you happy!" He proceeded to execute a pirouette, practically sparkling.

I seethed. Who did this guy think he was, anyways? "The Ouran Host Club?"

"Yes, the Ouran Host Club!" he chirped, gesturing wildly. "The academy's most handsome boys with way too much time on their hands, entertain young ladies who also have too much time on their hands. Think of it as a playground for the super rich and beautiful!"

"Entertain? A playground?" I raised an eyebrow at them. "So you're prostitutes?"

"To put it callously, I suppose so," another boy from my class, Kyoya, added, looking about as pompously creepy as he always did.

"I suppose we can offer one day for free, as a sort of try-out. What do you say, Mommy?" Tamaki piped up, practically trembling with excitement.

"It would mean a slight decrease in our profits, but if you're willing to risk it, that's alright with me. I'll just make note of it," Kyoya said smoothly, scrawling something on his clipboard.

"No!" I stomped my foot to the ground, adamant. "I'm leaving now and I mean it! I've had enough!"

I felt a small creature tug at my jeans. Startled, I glanced down, only to find a little boy with a mop of blonde hair and doe eyes gazing up at me, clutching his stuffed bunny to his chest. "Please don't leave, Aya-chan."

Aya-chan? No one had ever called me that before; it was just plain old Ayame, the artsy loser.

"Well, I...maybe I can stay for a bit," I conceded wearily, feeling a bit of a tug on my heartstrings.

"Yay!" he cheered, slipping his hand into mine and yanking me towards the table. "We can have cake!"

"Honey, wait a moment!" Tamaki pinned him down, narrowing his eyes at me. "So...you agree?"

"Er-"

Tamaki snapped his fingers, sending a sharp sound resounding through the room. "Hikaru, Kaoru, she's all yours!"

"What?!" I yelped, flailing my arms when they whooped triumphantly and hoisted me towards what appeared to be a dressing room, where evil monstrosities known as dresses in hideous shades of pink were laying in wait. Makeup, too.

Oh, shit.

Hikaru and Kaoru, as Tamaki had called them, began to viciously rake through a rack of outfits, unceremoniously shoving clothes into my face at every given opportunity. "Oh, this would look so cute on you!" one of them gushed, brandishing a dress that was nothing more than a few strips of gold fabric stitched together.

Edging away from them, I managed to find one decent outfit, just barely managing to drive the overbearing mongrels out of the room so I could change in private. Letting out a huff of exasperation, I began to disrobe, still in disbelief that I had gotten caught up in such bizarre situation.

I quickly changed into the Ouran girl's uniform, trying to ignore the part of my mind that urged me to jump out of the nearest window, even if it meant diving headfirst into the pond below and taking an unfortunate swim with the tadpoles.

Once I had finished donning the flimsy thing, I pushed the curtain aside and entered the main room, where an entire slew of girls was waiting, giggling and exchanging small talk with the hosts. Most noticeably, they were fawning over the twins, watching in glee as the pair gazed into each other's eyes with affection. It was obviously an act, and those idiots were lapping it up.

It was enough to make any sane person vomit.

Tamaki was currently perched on top of a chair, waving his hands in the air and preaching some divine message of hair care. The girls sprawled at his feet watched him as if he were a sort of supreme god, eyes shining as they drunk in his every word.

His eyes lit up upon seeing me. "Nakamura-chan!" he sang, hopping off of his chair. "You look beautiful! Now that you look the part of a fair maiden, it's time for you to pick your type of host!"

"Type?" There were types in this club? Well, it wasn't like it mattered to me. All of these so-called hosts were the same in my eyes: immaturely wealthy and downright ignorant. Especially this one.

"Yes!" he chirped, bobbing up and down. "We have the cool type!" Tamaki motioned to Kyoya, who sat in a removed corner clacking away on his laptop, seemingly indifferent to the ruckus his friend was making.

"The strong and silent type!" Tamaki then proceeded to motion towards a lanky teenager who was keeping a careful eye on Honey as he wolfed down an alarmingly large raspberry scone.

"The mischevious type!" He pointed at the twins, who were too immersed in the demands of their clients to pay attention to us. Almost on cue, one of them dipped the other, planting a firm kiss on his forehead and smirking when the girls dissolved into a plethora of squeals and gasps.

"The boy-lolita type!" Tamaki flicked his hand in the direction of the Honey, who grinned at me, showing off a mouthful of crumbs and jelly.

"The natural type!" His finger went towards a feminine boy with chocolate brown eyes and a close-cropped haircut. He smiled sympathetically at me, giving me a little wave from where he was sitting.

"And finally, the 'princely type'!" He motioned to himself, closing his eyes in a smile of satisfaction.

"Gee, I wonder who that could be," I remarked, still incredulous. "But, um, I guess I'll go for natural?" Something about him struck me, I suppose; he seemed far more genuine than the rich oafs clustered around him.

Was it just me, or did he look really familiar?

Placing a gentle hand on my arm, he led me to an isolated table tucked away near the window, just before a floor-to-ceiling glass that gave me a breathtaking view of the academy. Impeccably mannered, he leaned forward and pulled a cushioned chair out for me, before taking the seat opposite mine.

The moments dragged painfully on by, the boy taking measured sips from his tea cup, his smile growing more strained by the second.

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you, miss. I'm Haruhi Fujioka-" he blurted out, desperately trying to ease the tension that had accumulated within the last few minutes.

"Haruhi...Fujioka?" I cut him off, tilting my head to the side to examine him.

No, not him.

Her.

Haruhi Fujioka, the number one student in middle school? The most popular girl in town?

"Do I know you?" She looked bewildered, her face scrunched up as she recalled her distant junior high days. "Wait-"

"Ayame Nakamura," I encouraged, patiently waiting for her to recognize me.

"Ayame...Naka-oh! Now I remember!" She smiled again, snapping her fingers. "You're a musician, right? The one who played at all of those talented shows!"

I laughed for the first time since I entered Ouran; the high clear ringing sound startled me. "And you're the one who won every single academic award in the country!"

A question I simply couldn't resist the urge to ask popped up in my mind, a smirk gradually spreading across my face. "So, Haruhi, if you don't mind telling me...just what is a lovely girl such as yourself doing here?"

She flushed a deep tomato red, running her fingers sheepishly through her hair. "Well, I...it's sort of a long story."

"Go on, I don't mind," I said eagerly, sitting up. "We're in no rush."

"Where to begin?" she murmured, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping "Well, not too long ago, I was looking for a quiet place to do study. I kinda got lost, and...well, found this room. It looked perfectly quiet, so I took a peek."

I nodded sympathetically. That much was true.

"When I tried to leave, I accidentally broke an 8,000,000 yen vase that was about to be auctioned off." She cringed at the memory. "Kyoya gave me a choice: I could stay at the Host Club and work to pay off my debt. I still am, actually, but I don't quite mind it anymore."

"Do they know you're a girl?" I was genuinely curious. If she was forced to spend so much of her time with these idiots, wouldn't they have figured it out by now?

"Actually, yes. They just keep my secret and force me to hang around."

I pondered this for a moment, before changing the subject. "Could you tell me who's who?"

"The blonde who asked you for cake, his name is Mitskuni Haninozuka. Honey-senpai, for short. He and his cousin- that tall guy who's standing next to him- are both third-years." My jaw dropped. That little boy, my senpai? "The twins, Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin are first-years here. And you know Kyoya and Tamaki-senpai, right?"

Just then, I heard a grumble of protest. Whipping around, I saw Tamaki dragging Kyoya to our table.

"Why, you seemed to have made friends with our Haruhi! She-he," Tamaki said grandly, covering up his moment of uncertainty with another brilliant smile "-is very delightful company and I hope-"

Haruhi cut across his potentially long and tedious monologue, glancing at me. "It's alright, senpai, you can drop the act. We know each other from middle school."

"And I can say for sure that no one else from junior high would ever set foot in here, so your secret is safe," I added bitterly, overcome by a sudden urge to get the hell out of there. Glancing at my watch to stall for time, I clambered to my feet. "Oh, look at the time! Thanks for showing me around, but I really gotta go!"

Before they could protest, I sprinted to the dressing room, trying to no avail to banish their confusion from my mind as I threw on my crumpled outfit.

Those idiots. What was I thinking? What on earth possessed me to make me want to stay there for even an instant?

I was right. This damn academy really was filled with trash.

And nothing could ever change that fact in my mind.