First story. If something's wrong/weird, please don't kill me.

Disclaimer:
Ouran High School Host Club belongs to Bisco Hatori
Riot Girl and its lyrics belong to Good Charlotte.

One

I do not belong here.

That was Osoko Mizuki's first thought as she wandered aimlessly around the roomy interior of the Ouran Private Academy. At least, the high school part of it, anyway.

It didn't help that nine out of every ten students she passed stared at her chunky black combat boots and black-and-white-striped socks. (She was in a hurry that morning; overslept.)

Mizuki walked past a seriously stuck up auburn-haired girl, who very slightly curled her lip in disgust at Mizuki's boots. Mizuki, who was feeling rebelliously arrogant, crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at the girl. She turned away, more disgusted. Feeling a bit better, Mizuki skipped off.

People like that girl were the main reason Mizuki didn't like Ouran. Most people were sympathetic—or at least silent—about her little shoes issue, a large handful were just stuck up and looking like they disapproved (what right did they have to approve or disapprove anything about her?). She'd already made enemies with one girl, Houshakuji Renge; and the president of the American Football club, what's-his-name Kuze (Houshakuji made some sort of dramatic public announcement about Mizuki's boots, Kuze tried insulting with her and she kicked him in the shins hard. She was pretty sure she'd seen Kuze in the nurse's office just before).

The other reason she didn't like the place was how it was so…ridiculously fancy. Mizuki understood that it was a school for rich, privileged, smart people who were just as ridiculously fancy. But pink exterior and interior was just…too much. And she disagreed with the food. It was all gourmet stuff, completely the opposite of what she liked. She missed the days when she would just hop to a fast-food place with her friends, Miyako, Daisuke, Isamu, and Kazuki.

Ah, finally, class…3-A.

The teacher was giving a lecture. Mizuki gulped; she had to be late. She checked her watch and had to bite her tongue from cursing out loud. She should've been in class twenty minutes ago.

"Osoko-san, right?" the teacher asked.

"Say wha—? Yeah!" Mizuki replied a little too loudly. "Yeah, that's me!"

A few girls in the front whispered. A guy raised his eyebrows at her shoes. Mizuki crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out when the teacher wasn't looking. He gave her a look of disgust. She got ready to give him the finger, but the teacher was already looking up and talking.

"Well, class, this is our new student, Osoko Mizuki."

Whispers fluttered around. "Osoko? The big technology company?" "Oh my. I heard rumors she was ill-bred…" "What happened to her shoes?"

"Nothing happened, they're normal shoes," Mizuki snapped before thinking.

The girl who made the remark seemed to shrink back. (Mizuki had been told by many of her friends and family members that her grey eyes became eerily icy when she was pissed.)

The teacher raised his eyebrows to his hairline at Mizuki. "Well, I'll let you off without a warning, since today is your first day…That's your seat, back there. Haninozuka! Raise your hand, please."

A small blonde boy sitting in the back raised his hand. Mizuki wondered why he was carrying a stuffed pink bunny.

Don't make any trouble, her inner conscience growled at her.

She took her briefcase (which also gained looks; it was decorated with skull key chains and Sharpie marker designs) and walked over to the back. Her shoes really were not helping. Every step sounded like a stomp. She sat down, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Mizuki found her seat and slumped down.

"Konnichiwa!"

She looked up. It was that puny blond kid.

"Konnichiwa," she smiled.

He grinned back, but didn't say anything else; the teacher began talking again.

Mizuki wasn't paying attention. In whatever school she was in, she never paid attention. Instead, she observed her surroundings and made little mental notes.

Everyone was paying attention, as far as she could tell. Or were they just staring at the teacher and actually spacing out?

No girl had earrings. And if they did, they were dainty and elegant (Mizuki had seven silver hoops in her left ear and dangling sun-and-moon earrings on each ear). She almost envied how neat their hair looked. It was either let down nicely (unlike hers, just hanging like string and all over the place) or pulled up (nicely, of course). Whenever Mizuki pulled up her own hair, she always had to make it two spiky pigtails, sticking up, held by dozens of clips, hair bands, barrettes, and those big clips.

The teacher began writing something on the board.

Fifteen minutes passed. Mizuki had taken all the "mental notes" she had needed to know about this whack-job place.

She took out a notebook and a few multi-colored pens, pretending she was taking notes. She was actually doodling in her notebook, drawing flowery swirls, suns, moons, flowers, all sorts of random things that came to her mind.

"…now, before this lesson ends, I would like to collect your summer reports…"

Mizuki dropped her pink pen and looked up. She turned to the blonde kid. "Report?"

"Hm?" He looked up at her with wide brown eyes. "Yeah. Didn't you get a letter in the mail, Zuki-san?"

"Letter in the—Zuki-san? Aggh, I mean—"

"Osoko-san?"

"Hai, sensei?" Mizuki looked up.

"Do you have your report?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure the faculty mailed it to every student."

She stared at him, her gaping mouth resembling an "O." "M-m-mail?"

.:: Flashback ::.

Ouran Private Academy, the return envelope read.

"MOM! WHAT'S AN OURAN PRIVATE ACADEMY?" Mizuki hollered.

"It's a, um, school," was her mother's reply.

"OH," Mizuki called back. She ripped it open, pulled out the important-looking blue paper and tossed the envelope inside the garbage can.

She never knew there was another paper in it, something just as important.

.:: End Flashback ::.

"Oh, fuck," Mizuki said, yet again without thinking.

The teacher's eyebrows rose to his hairline, as did several of her classmates' eyebrows.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a warning tone.

"…I—u-um…e-eer," she stammered. "I'm sorry…?"

The older man glared coldly.

So therefore, Mizuki was not a happy camper. Or, rather, a happy student. Whatever.

She was already on bad terms with the teachers. There was that fiasco with the summer project (she was assigned extra homework for that, including some dumb report. She felt like stabbing that teacher with her pretty multicolored pens), 2-B's teacher caught her giving the finger to that Kuze guy, and another teacher gave her a dirty look when she saw Mizuki's boots. Mizuki, already worn out and well over pissed off, crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. That teacher just about sent her to the principal's office.

It seemed that the rich came to school to play. After classes, everyone just wandered around, talking and going places.

So Mizuki decided she would play, too. She was rich, so why the hell not?

Terrible, wasn't it? xDD The Host Club will probably appear in the next chapter.

Hoped you liked, and reviews are appreciated.