Fairly Odd Guidelines
By Uplifted
Ten Years
'Mom…it's been ten years since the accident. I've been accepted to the Ouran High School. You know, the rich kid school? Yeah, I've been going there for a week now. I'm studying very hard, but the other day…' Fujioka Haruhi, first year student at Ouran Academy, paused in her daydreaming to take notes on her history lecture. Her rigorous schedule had been pushing away sleep, so her focus had wavered over the past few days. Even before school had officially commenced, she had been studying up late, worried over her abilities compared to the rich kids of the school.
Thankfully, they all seemed to think school was playtime, leaving her to step up to the plate, and earn her grades. She had a dream, after all, and that dream didn't include failure.
But what if she did? Running her hand through her recently shorn locks, she eyed the thick glasses on her desk with distaste. They were her grandfathers, so not exactly her prescription, but her contact lenses had been broken the day before school. What a coincidence, huh? And earlier that day, some brat in the neighborhood had stuck gum in her long hair.
Thus, the commoner attends the prestigious Ouran Academy; with only an old sweater as a uniform. Those yellow dresses were ugly anyway...
"Fujioka-san?" Called the instructor, waiting for his best student to wake up. Snapping out of her thoughts, she was instantly alert.
"Yes teacher?" She called, aware that her teachers, and even peers, didn't even try to get to know the apparently short nerdy "boy" that attended their school on a scholarship.
"Come up to the board, and write sentence 22."
"Yes, teacher."
And so on, and so forth, the day went by. Nine hours of time spent in that classroom, with the same people who so valued their appearances. Many students simply texted each other, or adjusted their make-up if they were female.
By the time school was over, all Haruhi wanted to do was sleep. But she still had her regular class work to complete, as well as her extra-curricular studies. But the four libraries the school held were crowded. Do these people ever study? She made her way around the school, and found herself in front of the Third Music Room. The door looked out of shape, dust thickly covered the hinges.
'I bet no one will be in here.'
Haruhi opened the door carefully, wincing at the harsh, clanging sound that erupted when the old wood was pushed. She glanced inside.
The room, probably once decadent, was tarnished and dust-covered. The cloying smell of roses lingered in the air, and a grand piano was hidden in one corner. Haruhi was bewildered. Why did this rich school, where lineage and prestige was so valued, have a run-down music room?
'But the First and Second Music room must be glorious…' Haruhi thought in disdain, running her hands through the moth-eaten plush velvet curtains. She sank into one chair, coughing and waving her arms as a cloud of lint surrounded her face.
"Damn rich bastards, letting a room like this go to waste…" She said, indignant anger lighting her eyes. She began to clean the room, her bag left forgotten in the corner, as dust and grime flew through the air. She hadn't been cleaning her home for ten years alone for nothing. Her skills came in handy, and an hours worth of work showed definite improvements.
"Ah," she sighed, running her hands through her sticky hair, giving her an older look; the dust that had lingered on her hands now coated her hair.
Suddenly, in the center of the room, there was a spreading of light. Starlight, or sunlight, seemed to fill the room until there was nothing left but light. Sparkles radiated away from this source, until Haruhi thought her eyesight would be permanently ruined from the show.
Blinking through tears at the onslaught, she cleared her vision to find six figures standing in front of her, all wearing tight black pants, and different shirts. Gossamer wings seemed to sprout from their backs, and a crown floated lazily over their heads.
"Welcome," they all said unanimously.
TBC