~Chapter One~

Barbie's Castle

I'm a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world.
Life in plastic, it's fantastic!
You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere.
Imagination – life is your creation!

~Barbie Girl, by Aqua

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

Sammy's P.O.V.

Sunlight poured through the curtains, crawling across my skin like warm cloth. I had to admit that it felt rather nice. With a content sigh, I snuggled deeper into my pillow, clutching the material between the fingers of my left hand. Sleep was just on the horizon…

"WAKE UP!"

I fell to the floor in a pile of pillows, cloth, and – hopefully not broken – limbs. With a groan, I tried to disentangle myself from the sheets that I had thoroughly cocooned myself in. No such luck.

A snort of laughter halted my fruitless attempts to free myself of the evil bedspread. I glared at the person stupid enough to laugh at my troubles.

"Don't just stand there, Ellen! Help me!" I growled, waiting impatiently for her assistance.

My personal maid offered no such help; she just laughed even harder. The petite Californian clutched the doorframe in an effort to remain standing. It worked…for a grand total of twenty seconds. And then she was on the carpet, repeatedly slamming a tiny fist into the plush, white fibers and clutching at her sides with her free hand.

I snarled a warning. "Help me," I reiterated, "…or I will use my recently sharpened Swiss Knife to tear through your linens!"

Ellen immediately stopped laughing. "But they're new! And that crazy fashion woman will have my head on a platter if they're ruined," she whined, her lower lip jutting out in a pout.

Honestly, that woman will never act her age… Oh, right, I thought to myself. I suppose that's like the pot calling the kettle black. It was true: I really had no right to call Ellen immature when I am a firm believer in being a child at heart.

But that was that, and this was this…

My hand reached for the small knob on my nightstand. "One Mississippi…" It slid into the drawer. "Two Mississippi…" If I reached the next number, it was all over. "It should be noted that my fingers were now touching the thick blade…"

"Okay, okay!" Ellen exclaimed, green eyes wide with horror. "No need to be so hasty."

She scrambled to her feet, rushed over to my prone form, and pulled at the corner of the sheets. They were ripped away in a few seconds, but not without some awesome anime effects! I rolled a few times in place and – with one final tug – was home free.

"Thank you!" I cried, my hands thrown in the air in exasperation. "I do so appreciate your help!"

Sarcasm. You gotta love it.

Ellen ignored me in favor of leaving with her precious linens intact. She had tended to me since I was a child and was well aware that I was not a morning person. In fact, I was generally nocturnal. And she knew that I meant business when I employed a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Miss Hitachiin – or "that crazy fashion woman," as Ellen was so fond of calling her – had allowed the woman to come with me as my personal maid when she'd adopted me in my youth. Ellen and I were both American and, as such, became even closer to one another after moving to Japan.

To be honest, I didn't truly see her as a maid. Ellen was more like an older sister to me. And this was definitely true now that I was older and more independent. I no longer needed a maid to dress and feed me; I could do that by myself, thanks – rich or not.

I promptly mentioned this to Ellen, but the older woman simply rolled her eyes and left the room, no doubt to grab a bowl of cereal and return to bed.

Ah, bed… I thought, wistfully gazing at said piece of furniture. 'Parting is such sweet sorrow.'

Another maid entered the room after a brisk knock on my open door – to which I didn't get the chance to answer, I might add. "Miss Sammy, what would you like for breakfast?"

I turned my attention to the elderly maid. "Don't worry, Yuki. I'm just going to grab a Pop Tart or something." At her disapproving glance, I cheerfully said, "Well, I am off to the shower!"

"As you wish," she murmured, used to my behavior by now, I suppose.

After a nice, cold shower (penguins in Antarctica were so jealous!), I wrapped a towel around my waist and left the bathroom. I lazily brushed my fingers through my hair as I returned to my bedroom to get dressed for the day. My uniform had probably been ironed and delivered to my room by now, so I did a quick search of my room. Upon spotting the small white box, I opened one of the flaps…

And I was challenged by a YELLOW MARSHMELLOW!

Go, CHARIZARD! Use FLAMETHROWER!

…it didn't work. The evil yellow dress that is my uniform still exists.

So I did what any responsible young adult would do after suffering through such a traumatizing ordeal – I chucked it in the trash and pulled out a more suitable form of attire. Its replacement now centered on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Or, to be more precise, a black T-Shirt with the red words: "Team Alucard – Because Real Vampires Do Not Sparkle," and a pair of worn Calvin Klein blue jeans. The final touches to my outfit included the addition of a black messenger back with a Hellsing logo – acting as my purse – and a pair of red converse with black laces.

…and my backpack. I am getting an education, after all; mustn't forget me books!

The maid, Yuki, handed me a warm blueberry Pop Tart as I descended the staircase that led to the main entrance. Smiling kindly, I took the pastry and nodded my thanks. Which she ignored, per usual. The maid eyed my outfit skeptically and, with one last shake of her head, sent me on my way.

"Be good!" Yuki called after my retreating figure.

It was clear from her tone of voice that she didn't expect anything of the sort from me. So I, again, did what any responsible young adult afflicted with Rebellious Teenager Syndrome would do!

I grinned at her over my shoulder, and offered this piece of wisdom – "And if I can't be good, I won't get caught! Promise."

The elderly maid glared at me, disapproval shining clearly in her black eyes. My smile fell slightly, but instantly picked up again once I noticed the individual waiting a few yards away. The chauffer was by far my favorite among Miss Hitachiin's staff members.

Yuki wrinkled her nose at the man, sighing, and closed the door to the mansion. My heart ached; I wasn't looked upon very favorably by the staff. Only Ellen, the cook, and the chauffer paid me any mind. My past was well known within the Hitachiin mansion and many were annoyed that Miss Hitachiin had taken such a troubled (and troublesome) child into her care. But I'd had nowhere else to go and the Twins had taken a liking to me, something that was highly unusual. The Twins were rather cynical, you see.

Oh, well! At least I get to see my favorite mischievous Twins soon!

On that happy note, I skipped to the limo, posing every third step. Each pose was a part of the famous dance in the anime "The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya." Something that I'd finally managed to convince the Twins to watch with me!

The chauffer opened the door to the limo, chuckling at my antics, obviously amused. "Good morning."

"Morning, RJ!" If at all possible, my grin widened; I probably appeared quite retarded.

He chuckled once again. This time, however, it was at my use of his new nickname. "Ah, what's this? It appears that you still can't pronounce my full name! Such a shame, that is. Don't you agree, Miss Sammy?"

My face flushed, a splash of red coating my cheeks. "Why you cheeky little bugger! I'm not Japanese! What the hell do you want from me?" I grumbled as I climbed into the backseat.

My backpack was quickly thrown to the side, forgotten for the time being. I continued to grumble to myself, ignoring the Japanese man's amusement. Ryouta – or RJ, as I called him – had one hell of a last name. Jakinoaru, I think. Or something like that…

I can't even spell the thing! I sighed. He's so insufferable at times.

Thirty minutes passed and I peeked out the window, curious as to why we were stopping. I paused my iPod and removed the buds from my ears. As I rolled down the window, I heard RJ announce that we had reached our destination. My stomach slowly sank, and for a rather obvious reason – we had just pulled up in front of Barbie's Princess Castle Dollhouse. …it was pink.

Oh, dear God. I thought to myself, horrified. This…is my new high school?

It's official: my life sucks.

***Author's Note***

Seriously! Doesn't Ouran remind you of those new Barbie Castles? Just type "Barbie Castle Dollhouse" into Google and you'll see what I mean! ^_^;