To Love The Ouran High's Prince {OHSHC Fanfiction} (Tamaki Suoh Love Story)

.:: Reconcilation ::.

Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. Sadly.

Janelle's POV:

Life can't just stop joking itself around me, doesn't she? I mean, yeah, I went through a lot in my life span like babysitting 15 kids in a day, doing multitasking study-and-answer school works, doing odd jobs to earn a little living for my family, like dog-walking, cat-sitting (believe me, you don't want to cat-sit an angry-looking bobcat on the fish fridge), and lots of sorts of mini-juvenile stunts for money.

But no... Life just had to play with my emotions and mental more and more for her amusement. Like, right now. I'm standing in front of a huge gate of this prestigious school every girls talking about in town that goes in the name of Ouran Academy "where all the handsomest (is that even a word?) boys and elegant girls go to school." I doubt I am elegant. I barely count the minutes to brush or comb my hair every day, now I have to go to this... Institution, where all snobby, pink, prissy 'princesses' or rich, high-lord, fessed up 'princes' go? All in one place?

To tell you the truth, I am contemplating whether to decline the offer of this scholarship and go home to the place where I belong, or accept the scholarship to go to school well and find a good job for the whole family of mine. I guess it is safe to say,"I AM OUTTA HERE!" and stomp my feet angrily like a mad and wild grandpapi moose and leave premises. But I also need a good job someday, get paid well, and you know the rest.

Since both options are at the line of last stake, I decided to take choice number two. And I guess it is dangerous to say,"HOORAY! I AM IN THE RICH ACADEMY, YOU ALL INSOLENT FEMALE COMMONERS!!" That was just plain evil and mean, isn't it? That, in which, I didn't happen to say it aloud. Good for my great conscience.

Anyways, after choosing the answer of my last resort, I entered the gates, keeping my head low as possible to avoid any talks and gossips and rumors. Ugh, I hate those stinking lies that came from other people's pathetic mouths. They are nothing but proofless truths that makes no sense whatsoever in their logic. As my head kept a good bow, I made sure me and my bag are always attached, just to make sure I will not lose it in my first day in this big school.

"Hey, you're Janelle Mae Hyoko, right?" A feminine's voice asked from my behind, which happens not too far away from my distance. Holy Saint Pete, what am I going to do!? Run!? Hide!? Set the whole school down into flames!? Actually, that's not a bad idea. Oh, wait... IT IS! Whoever it is, the soon-to-be-created scene will not be the best scene I will ever tape in my whole life.

"Y-y-yes, h-how did you kn-know?" I stammered ever-so-nervously as I turned halfway around, beads of uncontrollable sweat raced down my forhead to my face, making it all warm. My eyes held panic and worry as my face did the most best horrific expression ever made. This is not good. This is not good. I repeat, this is not go-

"Actually, I think we met before," the girl said. I snapped my head, my body now fully facing a student in a male's uniform. Wait a minute! I sworn I heard a feminine voice from my behind. But I did not expect to come from the mouth of a boy! Which is weird, don't you think? I mean, it is not everyday you hear a lady's voice in a man's body. It is so... So... Eh-ish, if you get what I mean.

"E-e-excuse me?" I asked, my feet shaking like a jelly Jell-O as my hands and palms had sweatd that raced against each other. Oh, no. First day in my first prestigious high school is the worst day ever written by myself.

"You had forgotten about... Me, Jan-chan?" The mysterious, girly-voice, boy-body person asked, his/her chocolatey cream eyes gleaming with a bit of sadness.

Jan-chan? Only my best friend calls me Jan-chan. That is, before she left to a new school that way beyond league, probably. She never wrote me a letter, telegram or at least a post card or picture of the school. We had no connection for the past year, I suppose.