A/N: yes, I know I haven't updated in a while. I'm sorry! I've been so busy -_- stupid schoolwork….anyway. Here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: sadly, I do not own Ouran, or the following song.

"I just ran out of band-aids, I don't even know where to start; you can't bandage the damage, you never really can fix a heart."

-Demi Lovato, "Fix a Heart"

I go to school the next day with a band-aid over the cuts on my left arm. Thankfully my jacket covers up my secrets and lies.

I go to my locker and twist the dial: 27, 58, 34. click. I pull my locker open and a folded note falls out like a feather onto the ground. I pick it up and put it in my jacket pocket while I grab my English book and put my Science folder back in. I shut my locker and open the note. Sure enough, it's from that stupid club again, asking me to come AGAIN for another interview. I sigh as I stuff the note back into my pocket.

I guess I'm going there after school again. Hooray.

I pull the handle of the heavy door open and poke my head in. All seven—or six—men turn around and look at me, and they all go silent. I can feel a thousand paparazzi cameras snapping a picture of my face. I look away and make my way over to an empty chair, sitting down without a word. I set my bag down on the floor and patiently wait for them to say something.

Finally, Tamaki breaks the ice:

"Hello, Miss Emiko! Thank you for joining us today!" he says cheerfully. I nod, wondering how he can be so damn optimistic. It gets on my nerves, but I can't help but smile. It reminds me of my sister. Tamaki smiles brightly and sits in a chair across from me. The rest of the club chit-chatters but I can tell they're really listening to what Tamaki's telling me.

"Well, let's get started! How long have you been playing the piano?" he asks eagerly. I bite my lip and think.

"I actually don't know," I say with a small smile. "Ever since I could remember, really…" Tamaki smiles and nods. When he doesn't say anything more I continue: "When I was five, I'm guessing." I say again.

Tamaki nods.

"What was the piece you were playing when we came in? I never heard it before…" he asked. At this I could feel my face going pink. I wasn't about to tell him I was just improvising and it wasn't something someone famous wrote. But I didn't have anything else to say.

"Um…its an original…" I mumble. "I was just improvising…"

When Tamaki doesn't say anything, I look up. When I see his face I can't help but laugh. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates and his mouth was open down to his chest.

"You WROTE that?" he nearly shouts. I nod. "Have you written anything else?" he asks, as if he's so eager to know what it is. I nod again. I have a whole folder of original compositions at home.

"Wow…" he says, still in complete and total awe. I shrug one shoulder like its not that big of a deal, because it isn't. Anyone can create something.

The "interview" went on for five more minutes, him eagerly asking questions and me dully replying to them. The dullness and sarcasm of some of my answers went right over his head, so I gave up about halfway through and started really answering them. What's weird is that I liked talking to him. I liked talking to this blonde, over-enthusiastic moron. He was…easy to talk to, in a way.

Tamaki asked me one last question, then stood up and made an announcement: "its official! Emiko is our piano player!"

Say what?

I stand up and begin to protest: "Uh, Tamaki, I really can't—"

Tamaki ignored me and began to blabber on about how talented and awesome and creative I was. I began to interject, saying I wasn't going to do the stupid job and how non-talented I was. Everyone watched our argument back and forth like a tennis match. It wasn't really an argument; more like a debate. But all the same, I protested.

"You're going to be wonderful!" Tamaki said eagerly. "we will hear your spectacular talent while we entertain the ladies!" I looked at him in disgust at this. I wasn't going to play for anyone, especially the stupid girls at this High School.

"Please?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"I said no!"

"please!"

"N-O. NO."

"PLEASE!"

"FINE!"

"Really?" Tamaki said, his face lighting up eagerly. I sigh in frustration.

"Yes!" I nearly shout. "Fine! Whatever! I'll do it! Just be—"

"Wonderful!" Tamaki said, clapping his hands together. He walked in a circle around me, observing. I felt myself go stiff. He turned to the others: "What do you think, men?"

"Well," said one of the redheaded twins. "She could use some cleaning up…" I raise an eyebrow.

"How…?" I ask carefully. Both twins grin and walk over to me.

"Your glasses, for one," the other one said, reaching for them. "They're like coke bottles…"

I didn't wear glasses because I couldn't see. I could see just fine. I just wore them as part of the uniform; make myself look more like a guy. And to be honest, I was glad they noticed this first thing. I was starting to get a bad headache.

"And they don't suit you." They said in unison as they pulled the glasses off my face. They both frowned, and then used one hand to brush some hair out of my eyes. Their own green eyes widened, and their jaws dropped. Their very ears seemed to release steam.

"What?" I ask. My eyes weren't anything special: in my opinion they were too big for my face and too electric of a blue. They made me look like a dragonfly.

"Your eyes…" they said, in almost a whisper. I started backing away, getting uncomfortable.

"Let me see!" the midget blonde said, running over to me. I looked down at him, and he squealed. "They're so pretty!"

Pretty? That's a new one.

I went home after about an hour. I wanted to leave right after everyone stopped googling over my eyes, but they were firm. Next was my hair: Said I needed to grow it out. I said I liked it short. That way I didn't have to deal with it. They gave up on that after a while. What really killed me was they said I needed to start wearing dresses. I shivered at the memory. I hate dresses; I have a very strict no-ruffles, lace, or roses policy. The only way people can force me into a dress is to put it on my cold, dead, body. I'm sure I was pretty firm on that because they didn't bring it up for the rest of the interview.

I'm a bit excited. I hate to admit it, but I am. I'm not sure why: maybe it's the fact that my invisible shield went down and they seemed so excited. I start next Monday, and although I'm playing for the Rich and the Snobby, I'm excited to share what I have written down. Now that is weird to think about: I never ever want to share my music with anyone. I didn't even share it with Natsuko when she was alive. It was too personal.

And yet as soon as I was home, the joy drizzled out of me slowly. I sighed and trudged up to my room. I looked out the window and saw my parents outside; they didn't even recognize I was home, the morons.

I go to the bathroom and take out the razor again. I give myself three identical cuts on my right arm. Now it matches the left.

A/N: please review! ^^