Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto and its characters

Summary: Dirt poor Sakura's whisked off to the nation's most prodigious art school, yeah?

Edited as of March 2009

Pairings: DeidaraXSakura

How was it to visit the doctors for the first time? How was it to see all the beeping machines tangled with different colored cords? But, then, the worry never lingers long enough for you to worry because the doctor will smile and say that everything's all right. Then, being the child you are, you smile and think that everything's okay, that going to the doctors is like going to the market. You will return home soon enough.

But you start to worry when the doctor's smile creases and turns into a frown. You are too young to hear anything, but by the sound of the tone, you know that something's wrong...

How was it like to visit the doctors for the first time? How was it like to see all the beeping machines and tangled cords?

…with you.

Just like how I couldn't understand the doctor's words, I couldn't comprehend the situation I was currently in.

Dear Haruno Sakura,

Congratulations, you have been accepted as a student to our school, Konoha Art University. As you know...

The letter trailed on and on, talking about the different classes that the school offered, but I was too excited to continue reading. I had just received my letter of acceptance to one of the nation's best art school. In the afternoon. At three. While I was eating leftover cereal, without milk.

A few hours later, I was on the plane to Konoha.

My body cringed, thinking about my future life at Konoha. It hadn't occurred to me, in all my happiness. What would I say when they asked about where my parents worked?

'My mom works in a bakery and my dad's a waiter?'

That's all they were, rich snobs. They always made fun of the poor folk.

Always.

Once, the place my dad worked at got reserved by some hotshot singer. The dude got angry with my dad for serving the drinks with too much ice. If it weren't for the manager's good heart, my dad would be fired long ago and we'd be forced to live in the streets.

And now, my family had finally betrayed me by sending me to a stupid art school made for rich kids. How could I have known that they would submit my old art pieces? Heck, I thought they were just going to dump it in the garage or use it burn in the fireplace.

Traitors.

Traitors.

Traitors.

Traitors.

Traitors.

Just wait. I'll find a way back.

I pause. Maybe there really was something wrong with me; most people say that. I got accepted into the nation's top art academy and all I can think about is escaping?

I'm nuts.

I think?

Then again, I don't trust myself to think either. The fact that my mind was spinning from the idea of attending the .school in the country proved that.

Fours hours later and I'm already at the school, getting to my dorm except that doesn't happen because I feel like I want to throw up. I was never an airplane person. In fact, I was never much of a car person. I got car sick pretty easily and because of that, my parents and I would always walk if we wanted to get to a place. I didn't blame them. Who would want barf in their car?

Running as I can to the nearest restroom, I let loose the mayhem that was in my stomach and spilled my mouth's contents into the trashcan.

Falling to my feet, I panted. Airplanes were NOT fun. Whoever invented them were REALLY weird people.

Falling in a metal bird was not my ideal way of spending my whole day.

Rushing to the nearby sink, I washed off my face of the leftover on it. I grimaced at the sour flavor that my tongue was forced to taste.

I think that was last night's dinner.

Ew.

"Um…what are you doing in the boy's restroom, yeah?"