Growing up, I was always told I had a pretty face.

Fairy like, elfin, you name it. I found it incredibly ridiculous. I never thought there was anything special about my looks. When I looked in the mirror, all I saw was a petite girl with dark black hair, and dark brown, almost black eyes. I always thought everything about my coloring was too dark. Personally, I would have traded my eye color for a deep green or an ice blue, or even hazel. I even would grit my teeth and grin and bear it to have my mom's own green blue eyes.

Not that I would ever admit that aloud.

But I got compliments nonetheless. But I never knew if it was a genuine compliment, or if the person was just trying to get on my parents' good side. And in all honesty, is being compared to a charcoal drawing really a compliment? Or was it an offhand comment about me being messy? I never knew what to make of it, so I just stayed quiet and ignored it.

I had heard it was a common belief that pretty girls were ugly on the inside, and I didn't want that label.

So, to detach myself from the materialistic world I was born into, I decided to attend a normal public school instead of a fancy academy like other kids of my social standing. But no matter how hard I tried, I always got stuck with something.

I was called a slut, even though I never dated in my life. I'd never even had my first kiss for god's sake. I'd never even been touched by a boy that wasn't my big brother.

I was called an air head even though I'm a straight B student. My study habits could be better, but I get distracted easily.

I was called shallow, considering myself superior in every way to everyone in school. All because of my social standing. No one bothered to actually talk to me and find out what I really thought. I was alone because everyone though I looked down on them.

That is, until I met Nayoko Kitamura in my second year of middle school.

She became my best friend, and we were inseparable after a few short weeks. For the first time in I can't even remember how long, I had someone who saw me as an equal. Her sweet, somewhat childish personality helped balance out the stereotypes that were forced on me. We just, got each other in a way no one else did. She practically lived at my house over all the breaks, and always had the right things to say whenever my bratty little sister stuck her nose where it wasn't welcome.

But when we were in our first year of high school, Nayoko had gotten a boyfriend.

Kiba.

He was alright, but ever since they had started dating, she slowly started changing. If he was her first boyfriend, then it showed. It was almost like he was absorbing her. He was all she would talk and think about. She never wanted to do anything we used to enjoy together, and always blew me off as if I was an annoying fly just to sit by him awkwardly. It was like I had ceased to exist.

After six weeks (Yes I did count. Don't judge me.), I couldn't take it anymore. I was finally able to get her to listen to me for more than five seconds. Kiba was out sick. Go figure.

But she actually listened, and she said she'd make it up to me. That next Saturday she took me to a concert. And that's where everything fell apart.

I can remember it so vividly. Nayoko over at my estate…the both of us decked out in matching jackets I had bought us for her last birthday. We crowded my large vanity mirror, laughing and trying to maneuver through my massive collection of makeup with our new glittery acrylic nails, courtesy of mom's private staff.

Everything was like it was before.

Nayoko was curling my hair, giggling over the latest gossip as the locks bounced down my back, coming to rest by my hips. I had already crimped her mocha brown hair, pulling it into a high ponytail that cascaded down to her shoulders.

We had done our makeup with our favorite bands playing in the background, laughing and joking as if the past few weeks had never happened. We talked about anything and everything at ease, as if she had never told me she didn't care whenever I tried to talk about this before. I had missed this so much.

Then her cell phone rang. She took one look at the caller ID and got a big goofy smile on her face.

Five guesses who it was.

"He's here," she said giddily, jumping up from her bean bag chair.

She scrambled for her purse, leaving me sitting alone in the middle of the room. So she had invited Kiba too. I was more than a little bit disappointed. I thought it was just going to be us...

"What are you sitting around for?" she called from the doorway. "The show's gonna start without us!"

I bit back my disappointment and forced my lips into smile.

"Coming!" I responded, grabbing my wallet, phone, and keys from the floor beside me.

I stuff them in my jacket pocket as I make my way out the door, bracing myself for a long night.

The ride there is awkward. Like third wheel to the max awkward. I was ignored as usual. Though I don't know why I was expecting anything to be different. It's amazing what just a few hours acting like friends can make me believe.

Things got a little bit better when we arrived at the concert hall. We were in a crowd, so the P.D.A. levels went down, mostly because there was no room for it. But I couldn't help but notice that Kiba didn't seem real affectionate towards Nayoko at all. I mean, he's not really the affectionate type, but this time it almost seemed like cold indifference.

But if she noticed she didn't act like it.

I had a bad feeling about this, but I brushed it off as we entered the swirl of lights and music. The music was already lifting my spirits despite the fact that since Nayoko had bought the tickets so we were way up in the nosebleed section. We had a blast. Nayoko and I danced and cheered with the rest of the crowd for hours, keeping a careful grip on the guard rail. But I was having the time of my life.

By the time it was over, my throat was raw and sore.

Nayoko excused herself to get a drink, leaving me alone with Kiba. There was an awkward silence that followed her departure...but I tried my best to break the ice. Maybe if I got to know her boyfriend I wouldn't hate him for taking her away from me so much.

"Did you enjoy the show?" I asked around the dryness of my throat.

"Not exactly," he replied, giving me a lazy smile. "I'm not into bands like these."

"That's sweet," I said with a smile. "Coming to a concert you don't like just to make Nayoko happy."

He smiled. A sinister, gloating smile. It sent chills down my spine, and not in a good way. His eyes are cold, like slivers of blue glass.

"Oh I didn't do it for her," he said. "Actually, I came for someone else."

He turned to me, stepping closer. By instinct I took a step back. What's going on?

"W-what?" I choked out. "But you're her boyfriend. Who else would come for?"

"I'm insulted," he said with a dramatic sigh. "You think I actually had any interest in that stupid little girl? She was just the means of transport to get where I've been wanting to go since the beginning of the year. Seriously, who would willingly pick her if someone like you were standing right next to her."

"Y-you've just been playing with her this whole time?" I whispered as my stomach plummeted down to the mosh pit level. "Why didn't you just ask me? Why did you have to use her?"

My back hit something solid. The wall.

"What fun is that?" he asked as his arms caged my body. "It's the chase that makes things exciting you know."

And without warning, his lips crashed down on mine.

I was frozen as he moved to cup my face in his hands, and remained completely unresponsive as he kept placing urgent, desperate kisses on my lips. I couldn't move, but a twinge of fear flowed through me as I felt his hands leave my face. They trailed down my neck, stopping just above my chest. Then I panicked.

"What are you doing?" I gasped.

My voice shook in time with my legs. I was surprised I was still standing.

"Trust me, you'll enjoy it," he muttered into my neck.

A shiver ran down my spine at his words. But before I could protest his lips were on mine again, his hands trailing slowly down my chest. I tried to squirm away from him, but it only made my position worse. My throat was still raw from cheering, and I couldn't find my voice to scream.

But of course someone else did.

"YOU BITCH!"

Kiba pulled back abruptly, and I could see Nayoko standing a few feet away. She was furious, her eyes flashing dangerously. Her grip on her soda cup tightened for a moment before she threw it. It exploded all over me, drenching me with sticky syrup.

"You backstabbing, man stealing whore!" she yelled as she stalks up to me.

Her good girl image shatters like fine china, pure hate burning deep in her eyes.

"You had to go and steal the one thing that's mine! Are you not satisfied with being born already having everything?!"

The words pouring from her mouth were like a slap in the face.

"Nayo-chan," I choked out.

"Don't call me that!" she shrieked. "Can't you tell by now?! We were never friends!"

How do you breathe again? Just in out, in out right? My throat closed up and my lungs couldn't seem to expand wide enough to take in air. Is that why I couldn't breathe?

"Why do you think I put up with you all these years?!" she continued. "I wanted to be popular! I wanted to boost my social standing! You're delusional if you thought it was anything more than that!"

My lip trembled despite myself. All those sleepovers…all those secrets I trusted her with…

I choked back the bitterness in my throat. She really hated me all that time? Even when I took her to all mom and dad's horribly gaudy galas, or when I fought them tooth and nail to let me continue going to a public high school so I could still see her? Even when I took her to New York for Christmas and Hawaii for summer break?

"So, all these years...meant nothing to you?" I whispered.

I couldn't look her in the eye, so I fixed my gaze on the murano glass friendship necklace that dangled at the hallow of her throat. A birthday present from our first year together. I took her to Italy.

She seemed to know what I was staring at, and in response her hand curled around the charm. She yanked on it hard, snapping the delicate chain before throwing it hard on the ground.

It bounced at her feet for a moment before she brought her foot down hard on it. There was a cracking sound, followed by a colorful puff of dust. She twisted her foot for good measure before raising her head to glare at me.

"I've always hated you, you know," she spat. "The only reason I decided to be your friend was because I looked like a saint standing next to you."

I gulped in shallow breaths as she turned away from me.

"Take me home Kiba," she ordered before turning on her heel and stalking off.

I had almost forgotten he was there. But he just nodded before slinking off with her, giving me one last smirk as they vanished around the corner.

I didn't expect him to defend me, after all he got what he wanted. After all, a boy can do nothing wrong. It's always the girl's fault. Kiba stole my first kiss and felt me up in the process, but somehow it's all my fault. But I can still feel the sinking in my stomach and a burning in my chest where he touched me.

I was left alone in an empty part of the hall. I bit my lip, holding back my tears as I made a shaky call for a car. I hid in a bathroom until they arrived, pulling my hood low over my face until I was safely shut inside my room half an hour later.

What was I supposed to do now?

I curled up in a ball under my shower head. The syrup trailed off my body, but I still had the sticky, itchy feeling all over me. The steam rose around me, filling my lungs with hot air.

Breathing becomes easier, but not by much.

I was dreading coming to school on Monday.

And I was right to. As soon as I entered the school, I was crushed under the force of several glares. If looks could kill I would have died within the first few seconds. But all I really could do was keep my gaze straight ahead. I'd done nothing wrong, so I refused to hide like I had something to be ashamed of.

Then I caught sight of my locker.

It was covered with graffiti. Whore, slut, and all kinds of foul words and names were scribbled across the surface of my locker. I stared in horror as other people shoved passed me with unnecessary force.

"Bitch," they spat as I walk down the halls.

I bit down hard on my tongue. Maybe this was going to be harder than I thought.

For the rest of the week, spitballs stuck in my hair and ink balloons and the occasional thumbtack found their way into my shoes. My books were constantly knocked out of my hands in the halls, food was 'spilled' on me in the cafeteria, and my clothes were dumped in overflowing sinks during my gym period. And both the custodian and I had given up trying to rub off the graffiti that kept building up on my locker door.

I was at the end of my rope by Friday.

I shouldn't have been surprised that Nayoko would try to play the pity card.

I knew there were a lot of people who didn't like me, but this was the first time I had seen it expressed so openly. And somehow seeing it in action was worse than anything I could have imagined. I was the enemy of all girls, and the boys who weren't disgusted with me kept making lewd comments that made my skin crawl.

But now that I was the friendless loser again, I had a lot of time to think. And there was one thing that I did notice after that week. I seemed to have picked up a lot of habits from Nayoko, and now that she wasn't there anymore, I seem to have developed a new outlook on myself.

I didn't need to hide the things I liked anymore.

I fed my addiction of dating sims and RPGs for the first time in almost a year. Now that I had no social life again, I'd do what I wish I had done for those six weeks I was being ignored. Every day I came straight home and locked myself in my room, and play through an entire dating sim rout or build up my fantasy warrior's power levels.

When I took a break from that on Saturday night, I began to clean out all the things I realized I didn't like that had come into my life from Nayoko's influence. I'm rather ashamed to say that my room was almost stripped bare. By the time I tore down all the band posters, I realized my walls were purple.

I ended up finding them when I was cleaning out my desk. All the brochures for all these rich kid academies my parents had wanted me to look at. But I had been so stubborn, refusing to go to any other high school than the one Nayoko was going to.

Then I saw it.

The school my parents had been insistent on more than the others. Ouran Academy. It did look nice, even if it was a bit pink. Maybe I should have gone to one of these academies instead. But then again, what was really stopping me for putting in a transfer? I really did have nothing to lose. Mom and Dad probably wouldn't ask questions. They'd just be glad that I was finally going to listen to them.

But one thing was for sure. I refused to enroll as a girl. There was no way I was letting myself get into a mess like this again. If my looks are the cause of these problems, there's only really one thing to do.

Destroy them by raiding my mom's stash of stylist tools.

The best thing about it is that she won't really care; she'll just be glad I seem to have taken an interest in her field of work and want to take after her. So as soon as I finished all the paperwork, I grabbed my cell phone and took a step into what had been, until today, marked as enemy territory.

Personal issues aside, mom's at home studio really is impressive.

Within a little over two hours, my hair litters the floor around the vanity table. I have bangs now, and my hair is layered and grazes the top of my shoulders. It almost caused me physical pain to cut it this short.

Along with that it's been bleached, and is now a platinum blond. All in all I think I can pass for a boy. I'm flat-chested enough. It's just...with my face; I'll look like one of those effeminate types. Not that that'll be a problem either.

Then I won't have to be worried about the girls either.

Now's there was just one thing I needed to fix. My name. I could shorten it. Make Nao out of Naoko. And I can just say my full name is Naoki. It should make sense. Akira calls me Nao, and it's a unisex name anyways.

I should also fabricate myself a backstory. I almost giggle at the first thing to pop into my mind. All boys reform school in America. It's perfect.

I'll just need to make sure mom and dad don't find out about my cross dressing, so I take a few hair extension clips from mom's seemingly endless store. I attach a banana clip extension to my now stubby ponytail before I get distracted when I find the mother lode.

Oh well, if I'm to become a whole new person, may as well have some fun with it.

I break into mom's fake piercings collection and add a few various rings along the shell of my ear. It looks good, and with the help of the male uniform, some of Akira's old black sneakers I should be able to pass for a boy just fine.

Just no nail polish, and no makeup, and no cutesy girly stuff.

I can handle this. I can handle this. I can piece myself back together at this new school.

After all, Ouran can't be worse than the school I'm already in…right?