Needles.

So many needles. How many times had she been pricked in the last month? At least ten. While getting the biopsy, she vowed to never wear earrings again, much less be near any form of syringe. It was such a relief when they told her that the last test, an MRI, did not require any injections.

So far, she kept her promise. Every pair of earrings she owned were thrown out the day after her biopsy, and she had not looked back once. Every brooch, every tack and pin she spotted on her dresser or on the floor, she disposed of. She felt slight anxiety around anything sharper than a pen cap.

Her mother did not confront her when her own earrings were being moved or disappearing entirely. Not that she disciplined the girl often, but there was something strange in the mother and daughter's relationship. Was she avoiding her? And her father was at the hospital as soon as he came home from work. Even for her parents, that was strange behavior.

Maybe they caught what she had. In her condition, being social was definitely not something she was crazy about right now. She wished the doctors would hurry up and give her medicine already. She was tired of having stomach aches.

xxxx

She was not wearing earrings the day the results came in.

"I'm not going to have to take another test am I?" She asked whichever parent was listening from the backseat of the BMW. "This was the last one, right?"

Neither parent answered quickly. Her father glanced at his wife before turning his attention back to the road. Her mother took it upon herself to address their child.

"No, the MRI was the last one."

"Do I have bronchitis or pneumonia? Why are there so many tests? Have the doctors said anything?"

They pretended not to hear her.

"Mom! Hey, I'm pregnant!" That might shock her mother into paying attention.

"Stop bugging your mother. We won't know what it is for sure until we get these results back."

She knew they would not answer anymore of her questions. Once they decided she was "bugging" them, any outburst from her usually resulted in the threat of having one of her possessions confiscated. Getting it back would entail her having to make a lengthy speech about what she did wrong and why it reflected badly on herself and parents. It was not worth the hassle. She shrugged it off and put in the ear phones connected to her mp3 player.

xxxx

She could have given the nurses directions around the hospital for how well she knew it by now, Her parents obviously shared this knowledge as well, she would have been left behind if she did not already know whose office they were headed to. Why are they in a rush?.

She chatted with a nurse while her parents spoke to the doctor in private. The nurse was going through a very technical explanation of what exactly an MRI was when she saw her mother run out of the office. Her father came out a second later and ran after her.

She instinctively made to run after them, but her name was called by a man with a very disturbed expression in the doorway of her doctor's office. It was not her regular doctor. This man was older. He was rounder and his glasses were crooked. She noticed the crooked glasses the most.

He was visibly upset but his tone was professional. "Hello. I'm Dr. Harris. I'm a medical oncologist."

She guessed at what an oncologist was. She shook his outstretched hand and asked if the papers he was holding were the results of her MRI.

"Yes, these are the results. I've gone over the diagnosis with your parents and well...," he looked accusingly at the closed door her parents escaped from moments before, "well, anyway... Would you like to see them?"

Dr. Harris kept the top papers that looked a little like x-rays, and handed her the small stack underneath. Eager to finally have some answers, she devoured the small print. While she read, the doctor hung the not x-rays from a lighted backboard that made what was on them much easier to see.

Name: Ellen Rae Adan. Age: 16. Height: 5'7"... yadda yadda yadda...

"I want you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say, Ellen," he pointed a wrinkled finger at what she assumed was an organ, "This is your pancreas. Now, this isn't the best angle but you see this spot here? These are malignant cells..."

Dr. Harris's words faded out of her consciousness. She read over the small passage three times more.

Diagnosis: Stage 1 Pancreatic Carcinoma.

Pancreatic Cancer.

xxxx

8 months later.

Just eight months. That was all the time it took to abandon her previous life. Driving away all of your friends takes much longer after they find out you have cancer. They are all so sorry and you are in a never-ending time of need where they cannot possibly leave you. No, you are dying; there is no way they would leave you, no matter how much you protest. She shuddered to think of how long it would have taken if she had any close family. Thankfully, most of her parent's relatives were either dead or estranged.

If she had known what a real family was, she might have never boarded the huge commercial plane headed for Japan. She would not be sitting in her own private section of first class, being offered anything she could imagine, staring at the clouds below out of a small window.

An attendant approached her with a cart full of drinks and food. Ellen knew it was about to stop beside her. She heard the woman's footsteps slow down.

Ellen continued to look out of the window."Go away," she said simply.

She thought she heard a dry laugh come out of the woman. Ignoring the girl's warning, the attendant refilled the half full glass of grape juice Ellen had set down on the surface in front of her. The tan blankets that Ellen had folded and placed beside her were already in the woman's arms when she finally turned away from the window.

The tall red-head looked just as unamused as Ellen felt, despite the smile she wore. "I just wanted to make sure you were awake., Miss Adan. We're about to begin the descent, so finish this glass fast. Is there anything you needed before we turn on the fasten seat belt light?"

"No thanks. Now go away."

Thankful for the dismissal, the woman guided the cart to the next first class passenger, slightly bowing to Ellen as she left.

As soon as the woman offered the man a refill on his champagne, Ellen took the glass and emptied its contents into the compartment reserved for the large, noise canceling headphones. Hers – well, they were the airlines, but were reserved for her - were still in there.

"Ma'am? I'm finished with this glass. May I have another?"

xxxx

Ellen stepped out of the gate and pulled out a satellite phone. The line rang three times before a woman on the other end picked up.

"Mom? I just landed."

Bunkyo Airport was less crowded than she imagined. She expected to be shoulder to shoulder with a large group of people, fighting her way to her waiting car. Her vision of Japan was an over-abundance of people, no personal space and restaurants run by people wearing kimonos. But everything was very modern. If there were more signs displaying English words, the airport could have been in the states. Why had she expected paper doors and geishas?

Her mother's voice sounded distracted. Ellen could hear papers shuffling. She could picture her sitting at the table, going over paperwork while balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Shouldn't you be talking in Japanese?" her mother said. "You don't want to forget everything you've learned. Those five months of tutoring weren't for nothing, I hope."

Ellen read a sign that indicated the exit for passenger pickup. Her baggage would be picked up by someone she did not know and brought to the academy, so she did not stop in baggage claim.

"You can barely understand Japanese, mom. Trying to talk to you would just be frustrating."

Her mother ordered the housekeeper, Jessica, to check on the dinner being prepared. Ellen forgot it was dinner time back in Texas. And yesterday.

"Yes, yes... Well I hope everything goes ok. Call me when you get to the academy. I have to go. Good luck."

Ellen's goodbye was out done by the crash of what sounded like a pot falling and then her mother's yells. "Call ended" flashed on her cell phone. Ellen sighed and returned her cell phone to the pink shoulder bag she carried. When she looked up, she saw a glimpse of a hand-held sign with her last name on it. She headed towards it.

Ouran Academy was much more glamorous than she was ever led to believe. Every picture she ever saw was a lie. No two dimensional snapshot came close to the grandeur of the enormous academy.

It was more a palace than anything.

It annoyed her.

She was not sure why, but the light pink walls, white marble floors, and towering staircases put her in a foul mood. Beautiful as the school was, Ellen wondered if it was all necessary. Just how rich were the kids who enrolled here? Was there anything normal in this school? Everywhere she looked there was something declaring the wealth of the school: a statue, a painting, large, overstuffed furniture. She could not get to the admissions office fast enough.

Maybe she was just jet-lagged. She would feel more kindly toward the school tomorrow.

Maybe not.


So there was my first chapter of my first attempt at a story.

There's not much to do with Ouran in here yet, but I promise you it's coming. I just wanted to kinda build a character and get a little background in there first. I purposely went fast-paced cuz I know whoever reads this will want me to get to the tamaki, haruhi, kyoya, etc. moments.

The next chapter will be much better. At least I'll try to make it that way.

Also, I don't know much about Japan so anything I say in future chapters will be based on what I think of it and any research I do. Let's just pretend we're in my own universe and this is how Japan is.

So keep reading and review if you want. I'd like to hear from you :]