AHH! Okay, finals are over, the semester's done, and that tells you why I'm so late with this update! My bad, readers! But now that school's over for a whole MONTH, I will have more time to update and to write ^.^
BondSlave (a.k.a. Alisha): HAHA! Awww :3 Thank you so much! I like writing humor, but sometimes feel like it's forced or that I'm not too good at it. So thank you for the encouragement! *thumbs-up* HA I feel giddy and fangirly LOTS of times throughout the day. It's sort of sad, really XD Hahaha! i'm not quite sure how else to write him, so I'm glad he comes off princely! xD Epic? :'D Thank you so much! *tackle-glomp* EE! So happy that you like this story! Love you!
And thanks to anyone else out there who's reading this. If you like it, let me know! I'd like to know your thoughts ^.^
Anywhoo, on with Chapter 3! Sort of a shorter one, but these beginning chapters sort of have to get the introductions out of the way, and I don't want to inundate you with mental pictures or whatever. Hope you like it! ^.^
-III. Me Casa-
That evening, I sat on my bed in my pajamas (so happy to have gotten out of my uniform) working on my English homework. I shook the black and white beaded bracelet on my left wrist down my arm and sighed. The assignment was to diagram some sentences. I loved English. But I hated diagramming sentences. I closed the book and set it back on my desk. I had another couple days before the assignment was due, so I decided that I'd work on it later.
Sarah knocked on my door and came in a moment later. "Did you try that diagramming thing?"
I nodded.
"Did you give up?"
I nodded.
She chucked her books back down the hall towards her room. "Then I don't feel so guilty about giving up." She flopped down across the edge of my bed, looking at the ceiling.
I lay down next to her, looking up as well.
Like I said before, our family wasn't wealthy. I wasn't exactly sure why they'd spent all the money to move us halfway across the globe. Though they had hinted at the fact that they wanted to put us somewhere where we could use our Japanese to the fullest extent, instead of for just conversing with the sushi chef who had the shop down the street.
I rolled onto my stomach and looked out the window, the darkening sky absolutely clear and every star visible. Not that I disliked the stars, but I sort of missed the gray, overcast skies of London. That chill in the air that warned of rain. Running from awning to awning on the days you forgot your umbrella and giggling like avoiding the rain when you were already soaked was the most fun game in the world. I guess I missed the little things the most.
But there was one thing I certainly didn't miss: our old public school with its queen bees and jerky jocks whose only interests were themselves and the rest of the "pretty people." I figured that they could all go jump off a cliff, for all I cared.
But Japan -Ouran Academy- was different. The most handsome and the most beautiful did not look down on everyone else, thinking they were better. Everyone treated everyone with respect, and they were all so kind, as far as I could see. Maybe I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt, but I could usually read people pretty well.
Moving from the view outside to the view inside, let me tell you about our house. It wasn't monstrous, but it had more than enough room for the four of us. I had no idea where our parents had gotten the money to buy this place, but they'd gotten it somewhere. It was three stories (which I know sounds big...okay, so maybe the house was a little big).
The first floor had all the basics (kitchen, dining room, living room, etc.), including the master bedroom. The second floor (top floor) was ours. Yes, a whole floor. I really didn't think that we needed that much space, but I think our parents were trying to make it up to us, since we had seemed less than enthusiastic about moving to Japan, away from our best friend. But then our best friend ended up coming, too, so that made it better.
The third floor (which was under the first floor) was the helpers' quarters. We didn't like calling them servants. It made us feel like ladies from the middle ages or something. I mean, they didn't dress us or make our beds or anything. They just helped keep the house in order, and did some cooking occasionally when Mum and Dad were out.
Our floor consisted of five parts: My bedroom, Sarah's bedroom, our (extensive) bathrooms, and a game room.
My bedroom felt like something out of a castle from one of Shakespeare's plays. Up against the right wall was a big, four-postered bed, big enough for at least three people. The comforter that covered it was a mix of black and white designs all sewed together. Our parents had made sure it was the same design as the one I'd had back home, and, after a few nights, it smelled just like the one I'd had back home. It made me feel more at home in my huge, spacious room.
To the right of the door was a wooden desk that was supposed to be used for schoolwork, but that rarely had such a purpose. It was covered with catalogs and books and letters and all sorts of things. I still had a space in the middle where I could set my laptop and write, but I usually did that on my bed. Rarely did any work get done at that desk. On the right side of the desk was my iHome, my little dinosaur of an iPod plugged into it. (It was a second generation nano. I'd gotten it for my thirteenth birthday.)
Looking from my desk, across my bed, and to the other side of the room, there was a big window taking the place of the wall. Underneath the window was a long, padded windowseat, perfect for sitting and looking at the stars or the rain. From that window, I had a perfect view of the gardens behind the house. They were so beautiful, and we often went walking in them at night.
Turning left from the windows to the wall across from my bed, a door was visible in the corner. This door led to my bathroom. Looking left from the door, a giant, flat-screen TV hung on the wall. Another gift, I guess, to make up for my initial unhappiness.
Decorating the wall behind the TV, instead of paint, was a big, black and white picture mural of London at night. I could see the Eye, Big Ben, a double-decker bus, everything that reminded me of home. The rest of the walls alternated red and black - the colors that also reminded me of London. Pictures were pinned to the wall above my desk on a big corkboard square. Black and white pictures of other city streets adorned the remaining walls. A couple, though, that weren't black and white were some of my favorites. They were taken of cars flying down highways, the camera set on a low shutter speed. The lights seemed to go on forever, as if in great projection from the cars' headlights or tailights.
We loved the city. The neverending streams of cars, the lights, the hustle and bustle... This living in the country, with all its peace and quiet and fresh air, was going to drive us out of our minds.
Sarah's room was similar in the fact that it was red and black, but, instead of alternating-colored walls, hers were all red. The molding around the tops and bottoms of the walls, and the doors and door frames were all black. Her walls were covered with posters of bands and quotes and things. Her bed was a big four-poster, too, but her sheets were a different pattern of black and white than mine. Having grown up together, and being only six months apart in age, we'd practically been raised as twins, so we had a lot of similar interests.
Her desk, very similar to mine, was much more organized. Her iHome, lamp, and neat stack of books were all perfectly arranged. She had plenty of room to work on it. I sometimes envied her neatness, but then other times was happy I was slightly messy.
Instead of one large window, like I had, Sarah had three smaller ones. Instead of looking out on the gardens, hers looked out on the surrounding countryside. On the night of a full moon, it looked just like daylight out there. We loved looking at it, and often talked about going out there at night, though we were also worried about what was out there. You never could tell around there.
Sarah also had a flat-screen in her room, and the wall behind it was blank. No posters, no nothing. Just red paint. She said it was her blank canvas. She had drawings and drawings of what she wanted to do with it, but never could seem to find the right one. Having a creative mind myself, I understood her frustration. But, being impatient, I also wished that she would paint the dang wall already.
I heard a familiar bleeping, and Sarah picked up the TV remote, pressing the CALL button.
Peggy's face appeared on the screen. "Heyyyy," she said happily.
"Hiiiii," we replied, sitting up.
"Whatcha up to?" she asked.
"Made an attempt at English, but gave up," Sarah said.
"How about you?" I asked.
"Just finished my Biology homework. Ugh, you two are so lucky you already took it."
We laughed.
"I loved Biology! What are you talking about?" Sarah asked.
Peggy just rolled her eyes.
We often talked this way, instead of on the phone, or even seeing each other in person. I mean, we lived two miles from each other, but I guess we were just too lazy to bike or walk to each other's houses. Besides, using technology was so much more fun!
"Are you parents home tonight?" Peggy asked.
"Yep," I said.
"Did they wonder why you were late coming home from school?"
"They haven't asked about it, yet," Sarah said. "But I'm sure they will at dinner."
Peggy chuckled.
"Your parents don't wonder?" I asked.
"Are you kidding? As long as they know we're okay, they're fine," Peggy said.
"So even if you jumped on a jet back to London?" I asked.
Peggy laughed and we shook our heads, smiling.
"You know my parents. They're pretty easy-going," Peggy said.
"I sure hope our parents are the same regarding the Host Club," I said.
"I'm sure they will be," Peggy said.
"I mean, it's not like we were hanging out at a brothel or anything."
We all burst out laughing, rolling around on our beds.
"I think all our parents would die if that happened," Sarah gasped.
"I know, right?" Peggy cried, still laughing.
Our laughter subsided, and I heard Mum calling us. "Cricket! Bumblebee! Come down for dinner!"
"Coming, Mum!" we called.
"Talk to you later, Pegs," I said.
"Okay. Enjoy dinner! I love you two!"
"We love you too! Bye!"
"Bye!"
I hit the CALL button again, then we stood, heading out of my room.
We walked out into the hall, past my bathroom, and to the end of the hall. Instead of a big flight of stairs, the staircase to our floor was a small, metal one, sprialing from the main floor to our little sanctum. Okay, big sanctum, but you get the idea.
"Have you ever wondered why Mum calls us insects as nicknames?" (Yes, Sarah referred to my mum as her mum. It was only natural, seeing as how she'd lived with us since she was a year old. And, yes, our mother had given us the nicknames of insects -I Cricket and Sarah Bumblebee.)
I shrugged and shook my head. "I think she once told me that it was because we were cute, like little bugs."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I don't know."
We skipped into the dining room, taking our places across from our parents as Mai, the cook's assisstant, set plates of spaghetti (with marinara sauce, of course -can't have meatballs when I'm a vegetarian!) in front of us. Being born in London didn't just make us English. Dad's family was Italian, and Mum's was Eastern European. Sarah was a little more Spanish than I was, because of her mum, but still. We were the product of many European countries: Italy, Holland, Germany, Spain, France, Ireland, Scotland, and I'm sure many others. And loving certain foods was just a show of our heritages. Spaghetti was an excellent example of that.
"So, how was school today?" Dad asked as I slurped in a noodle.
Sarah laughed a little and I wiped my mouth.
"Good, Dad," I said.
"Keeping your grades up?"
"Doing the very best we can," Sarah said.
"What did you two and Peggy do after school today, Cricket? Bumblebee?"
Dad looked at Mum, as if sending a silent message that said, "I thought we were going to ask about that gently."
We laughed softly, reading our parents so clearly.
"Nothing," I said.
"Peggy...showed us...this group that she discovered at school," Sarah said.
They looked at us curiously.
"A...group?" Dad asked.
"Sort of like a...club," I said.
"Oh," they said together, quietly.
"What is the name of this club?" Mum asked.
I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat.
Sarah gave me a look, telling me to stop.
"Um...The Ouran High School Host Club," I said quietly.
Unfortunately, they heard me.
"Host Club?" Dad asked. "Must be a new thing these kids have come up with."
We looked at them.
He turned to Mum. "I don't remember having anything like that back in high school, do you, dear?"
"No," she said, taking a sip of wine from her glass.
"Well, so long as you have fun in this...club," Dad said warily.
"And so long as you're being safe," Mum said.
We just nodded and stuffed some garlic bread in our mouths to avoid further discussion of what exactly a Host Club was.
What would they do if they knew it was an "entertainment" club, where young ladies are entertained by young men? I wondered. They'd probably get the wrong impression and complain to the principal or whoever is in a position of power at Ouran. I sighed as I sat back down on my bed, Sarah gone on to her room.
To paraphrase a line I once heard in an American movie, Mum, Dad, I don't think we're in London anymore.