Let me start out by saying that I wasn't too happy to move to Japan at the beginning of what would be my freshman year. I had a good life in the States: lots of friends, great grades in ridiculously hard AP classes. But my parents got lucrative job offers from the Otoori Family's medical business. In Japan. To make it worse, I have to go to a private school. And because I tested really high, I've been placed two grades ahead than I'd be in the States: I'd be in class 2a (the equivalent of a junior in high school). And Japanese isn't my best language. I mean, I'm ok, but my other non-native language, Spanish, just came SO much easier. But it's not like I had a choice in the matter.
Now I'm getting ready for school. The yellow uniform is cumbersome and poofy. And it cost like $3000. It's probably dry-clean only, which means I'll stain it within the week.
The grounds at Ouran Academy are really pretty, but I have no time to admire them. A group of mean looking class d kids walk over to me. One mutters "Damn rich American bitch" under his breath. He thinks that I can't understand. I decide to let it slide. I don't want to get into a fight with these guys. Sure, I'm a decorated third-degree blackbelt in karate, but these guys have mob ties. I just smile, then walk away. They don't follow. But they don't forget that I am a "Damn rich American bitch."
I'm walking to my third class, and one of the guys from earlier bumps into me. My books fall everywhere, and he slips away. Shit! I'm gonna be late to class. My fingers get smashed as I reach for papers, folders, books. No one helps. I don't blame them.
Suddenly, a hand reaches out, grabs a book, and another person follows suit. I look up as they hand them to me….