Day After Day

Chapter One: A Day Very Much Longer than Most Days

Therapy is stupid.

You walk into a room, sit down across some mister or missus, and they ask about how you feel.

From then on, you either a) awkwardly squirm and try to express yourself, or b) give the millennium old lie of "I'm okay. Can I leave now?" Either way, everything feels weird (and you can't leave), and the therapist thinks you're crazy enough to buy another session.

Or, maybe I'm being biased. Mom always called 'one of those skeptics.' Therapy works for a ton of people. At least, that's what the magazines say. That's probably why Mom sent me here in the first place. She loves magazines. Though, she prefers modeling for them over actually reading them. Although, the magazine photographers like models more typically if they actually know what they're posing for—I'm getting off topic. Anyway, the therapy I'm having right now sucks.

"Adelaide, please try to focus. You've been staring at the wall for almost fifteen minutes, ignoring me. Please, tell me, or I'll have to call your mother: how have your recent prescriptions been working out?"

Ouch. I guess just daydreaming wasn't the answer to these mandatory sessions.

If I were honest, I would say 'Prescriptions? I'm substance free, m'lady.'

But that would be too simple, too boring. This woman and my mom would nag me about the importance of proper medication until Armageddon.

I refocused on the women in front of me. Older, in her late fifties, maybe early sixties. Her brown hair was almost completely gray. She almost looked as bored as I was. Almost.

"Pretty good." I lied with a smile, "When I take them before bed, I get to dream about Errol Flynn. He lets me use his bow…sometimes."

The therapist frowned. I guess she wasn't a fan of a certain man in green stealing wealth for the poor. "Now, dearie, don't use that tone with me." She said.

"Oh, I'm being completely serious." I kept going with the façade, my tone remaining friendly yet entirely thoughtful, "How do you think I'd look in green?" I gestured towards my plain, casual attire (I was wearing red), "Can women grow goatees? I still need to make a Christmas list. Is it too early? I mean, it is January. But, the early bird catches the pre-orders!"

Now the shrink was confused and struggling to keep up with my chatty act and my faux fascination with Robin Hood. I was dominating this nonexistent battle of wits. Her mouth parted as if she was about to say somethi-

"-Do you think I could pull off that gaze of his? Y'know the one where he justs," I looked, tilting my head slightly towards the left, and finally focusing on the corner where the walls and roof met, just diagonal of me, "looks into the distance?"

"Do you enjoy old movies, Adelaide?"

"They're alright, ma'am. I just," I looked directly into her eyes, "wanted to relate to you. Try to make connections. You seem to like the classics."

"Are you implying that I'm old?"

Ooh boy, this is where it gets fun.

The women paused, then shook her head, "Fine. This isn't going anywhere." She said earnestly, "I'll change the topic since this one seems to cause discomfort. How do you feel about moving to Japan to live with your father?"

I stood straight up out of my plushy chair and looked at an imaginary watch.

"Oh wow, look at the time, ladies and gentlemen, it's—"

Ding

"—time to unfasten your seatbelts and check your carry-on items. Ladies and gentlemen, I repeat, we have landed in Japan and it is time—"

My eyes creaked open. People shuffled. An engine rumbled. Seat belts unclipped. The voice on the speaker kept repeating and repeating. I guess that's how it got into my dream. Or maybe I would call that a light nightmare. I paused mid-blink. That's an oxymoron. I resumed my groggy blinking as I stretched my arms out into the open air and peeked out of the window of the flight. After over twelve hours of airtime, we had just landed on solid ground in Japan.

"Yippee," I mumbled, grabbing my things and joining the line of the myriad of people trying to exit the aircraft and touch Japanese soil.

Just another long day.

Which kept getting longer and longer. After two hours of Customs and another hour of baggage claim, I got to spend forty-five minutes searching for my chauffeur and new caretaker. I spooked him. He didn't see me coming.

His name is Percy.

"So Peter, how long does it take to get to our humble abode?" I said, ducking into a blue sports car.

"Miss Adelaide, I see your mother was not wrong when she said you had an attitude," The man with tan skin and dark hair wearing a snazzy suit laughed, his English enunciated perfectly, "Though, I will insist you call me by my actual name: Percy. I know you can remember that." He adjusted his sunglasses then turned the ignition of the car, "We will be at your new home in about twenty minutes."

New home? He made me sound like I was some adopted puppy.

"Sounds good, Paul."

I heard a sigh from driver's seat as I slipped in my ear buds. Clicking play on my phone, an audiobook starting to play.

My stomach growled. I wonder if they'll feed me. Okay, now I felt like an adopted puppy.

We eventually arrived at one of my father's estates i.e. my 'new home' for probably the rest of high school. Large gates led into rolling hills and a majestic fountain and a big fancy house with giant pillars—blah blah blah. It was –long story short—a fancy mansion and estate somehow located just outside of Tokyo. Just another of my father's dozen or so houses, apparently.

I slipped off my earbuds and tucked them into my pocket. After pulling up to the front entrance, Percy and I exited the car. Percy tossed the keys to one of the waiting servants, whom I assumed to be the valet. I wonder how many cars daddy-o had left at this house? Not that I can drive any of them, anyway.

"Okay, Adelaide, where to first? Would you like a tour of your home?" Percy grinned at me, gesturing wildly to my extravagant surroundings.

I thought about it for a moment while staring at a marble statue of a naked dude eating grapes in the entry hallway.

Hmm….grapes. But also protein would be nice…

I held a hand to my rumbling stomach and looked at Percy.

"Can I have a PB&J?"

His eyebrow quirked, "What's a…'PB&J'…?" I caught him off-guard. He sounded out the letters in such a way that I knew now that English wasn't his first language. At least not American English.

I shook my head solemnly—this was truly tragic, "It's peanut butter jelly time…in a sandwich." That clearly didn't help Percy's comprehension of peanut butter and jelly sandwich at all, "Where's the kitchen?" I had to take action.

Three gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwiches later, I wandered the house.

Pretty big. Probably too big. I'm lost already. Oh wait, there's the library.

As the SpongeBob narrator used to say: "A. Few. Hours. Later."

"Adelaide, I finally found you! Isn't it time to go to bed?" Percy stuck his head through the colossal wooden doors leading to the two-story library.

I made a grunt noise, taking my head out of my current read, "…What time is it?" I dared to ask.

"11:30 pm." Percy replied, raising an eyebrow at my huddled, blanketed position.

"Oh, that's nothing," I said quickly, ducking back into the book.

"You're jetlagged. It's best that you at least attempt to adjust to the time zone here. It shouldn't be that hard to fall asleep—you've been up for hours."

I didn't reply and turned another page.

Percy sighed. I'm pretty sure the man was questioning both my upbringing and my age based on my stubborn reading and surrounding book fort (Four hardback walls of impenetrable texts. Come at me.) Honestly, I questioned those aspects of myself on a regular basis. But hey, at least I was rich.

"You have school tomorrow."

I blinked, "…I'll sleep in class."

"You're in the most advanced freshmen class. If your grades drop or if the teacher calls, I will be informing your moth—"

"Goodnight!" I leaped over the book fort and ran past Percy into the hall still clutching the book I had been reading. I had no idea where my room was, but I'm sure this hallway will take me right there, "Don't take down the fort! It's my secret base!" I called over my shoulder.

I heard Percy sigh behind me.

"Thanks, Putin!" I added quickly and turned a corner, entering the darkness.

Three hours of bumbling around this dark labyrinth of a home and six more hours of sleeping in a bed that could nest a baby whale, I felt refreshed yet homesick.

Refreshed that I got six hours of sleep. I could get used to being somewhat responsible.

Homesick because I missed the fact that living in apartment never led to using ten minutes to find the bathroom and an additional forty-five minutes of my life to find the kitchen. And man, oh man, I hoped I could find this place at night because midnight snacks are so my thing. Though, chugging a dozen pancakes that a cook made for me as a rushed breakfast wasn't bad either.

And then there was school. The first day of school. My first day of physical school in almost fourteen months. And, I looked monstrous. Frills. A needlessly long dress. Ruffled long sleeves. White tights and nice shoes. Summer yellow in January. An impeccably large bow. See, I wasn't much of a fashionista, but considering my mom is somewhat of a fashion icon, and my bedtime stories from my younger days mainly consisted of said mother showing me her pages in fashion magazines, I was more than well-versed in clothing than I would like to admit or demonstrate. And this outfit, oh lordy, felt like a throwback to the late nineteenth century. The headmaster had some…interesting tastes.

"Honestly, are you sure I don't have to wear a corset because I mean at this rate, it's either go all in or nothing, right?" I said jokingly to Percy in the car.

"You look nice."

I quirked an eyebrow at the man in sunglasses, twirling my finger through my low side ponytail, "Do we have a summer uniform?"

"No."

I refrained from letting my mouth drop. Summer and late spring were not going to be fun under these five layers of poof, "Okay then." I resigned myself, letting go of my dark brown hair and pulling out my earbuds to continue my audiobook.

"Do you…" Percy averted his eyes from the road for a brief second, glancing at me quizzically, "…speak Japanese?"

I paused, my hands about to place the earbuds into my ears. "Yes?"

"How did you learn? When did you learn?" Percy pried, suddenly concerned.

I dropped my hands, "Uh…I did some Rosetta Stone on the plane here."

Percy flinched, his dark sunglasses drooped slightly. I could see his exposed dark eyes widen.

"And I read a Japanese dictionary last night!" I added quickly.

Percy let out yet another sigh, "I suppose that'll do." He said, "Your mother informed me of…your abilities. Nonetheless, here we are" He pulled up to what could've been the gaudiest school I had ever seen.

It was pink.

"Oh, great. I see the uniform fits the school," I muttered under my breath, seeing all of my now equally obnoxiously clothed peers exit cars and enter the academic palace. The human equivalent of yellow puffballs and ritzy Smurfs swarmed the campus. My stomach dropped. There was clearly too much laughing for a school. All the girls had designer handbags. The refined glimmers of high-class cufflinks shined from the boys' sleeves. They all looked so…preppy and extroverted. Not that I looked any different, but this would be a place my mom would've loved. And I already hated it.

Percy smiled, "Adelaide, welcome to Ouran Academy!"

I exited the car, "Please, call me Addie," I pleaded as I picked up my bag and straightened my back. I now knew that I needed a friend. And, I didn't think I wanted/was going to make any friends here.

Percy's grinned widened, "Have a good day, Adelaide!" He called out as I shut the door.

My shoulders dropped. Even Percy was out to get me.

A stray cherry blossom petal hit my eye, the resulting irritation causing it to tear up a little.

I was surrounded by enemies.

And I was lost.

Okay, I'll admit it, I get lost easily. A real shock at this point, I know.

But I found directions in the form of a little blond boy's bodyguard. Funny story there. I may have spooked the kid and made him cry. But details, details. His accompanying student/bodyguard gave me terse directions to my classroom.

Rich kids are weird. Not that I'm excluding myself.

And then it was time for self-introductions. Which was also weird. We never had these back in the States.

As I stood before the classroom, I asked myself the question: how do I want to appear to these people?

Considering I didn't want to have anything to do with these people and, instead, wished to embark on a lovely high school career full of reclusion, I decided to be completely average.

"Uh…" I began, purposefully emphasizing a lack of public speaking etiquette, "My name is…" My eyes wandered the room; my hands fidgeted with my dress, "Adelaide Suzuki….But you can just call me Addie."

People looked up from their desk. They hadn't even noticed me. Good, Addie, good. Become the student that never was. A few hands shot up. The introduction turned into a Q&A.

"What does your family do?"

"My father owns Suzuki Flora Company. So, uhhhh, we work within the plant market." I quickly moved onto the next question, averting the mention of my mother's career. Luckily, plants can be boring at face value, so the class didn't push the topic. Not to mention, my family had long ago decided that I go by my father's surname, so no one would immediately recognize who my mother was.

A few more questions were asked. What's your favorite color? Red. What's your favorite food? I'll eat anything edible. Any special talents? Again, I'll eat anything edible. Don't underestimate me, pigtails. (I didn't say the last part, but it was highly tempting). Where are you from? Overseas. How many jets do you own? None.

At that, everyone started to lose interest in learning about me. What they didn't know was that I didn't own any jets because Mom had read too many celebrity jet-induced tragedies that convinced her that owning a private jet was a bad omen. We fly commercial. Magazines love it. Fans love it. I had no idea if Dad had one. He probably would never let me use it, anyway. I've never cared either way until now.

At my new classmate's bored and unimpressed expressions, I now decided I liked it. Yes, my equally wealthy classmates, my Mom and I fly with the flock. Power to the plebs.

"Okay, that's enough questions class, Miss Suzuki, would you like take a seat?" The teacher gestured to the front right of the room. Third row from the front. The column next to the window. I restrained from fist pumping at the fact I was lucky enough to receive the classic anime protagonist seat. I needed these people to think I was an average person not a weeb. Because weebs attract other weebs, and I wasn't here to make friends.

I was here to look out the window and look bored or moody and then maybe take a well-deserved nap like every other protagonist, dammit!

To that extent, for every protagonist, there exists an antagonist.

In this story, the protagonist is me. The antagonist stands as the world. My ambition you might ask? To RULE THE WORL-Just kidding, that's too much work. My real goal comprises of hiding from civilization; I seek a life full or libraries, stupid internet jokes, endless all-you-can-eat buffets, and more books. In other words, I yearn for solitude.

And for that cause, I needed to make a friend.

Not just any friend. A female friend. A friend who was not too popular but not too unpopular either…lest she be the clingy type. Someone who, not only knows the lay of this rich land but also comprehends the school's social hierarchy.

Enter Renge Houshakuji, the popular-kinda-annoying transfer student from France and my new desk neighbor.

"What do you mean that the popular hangouts are all in the library….!" I almost spat out my spaghetti at Renge's explanation. We sat alone at a lunch table in the cafeteria. Students walked back in forth, carrying various luxury meals.

"Well, here at Ouran Academy," Renge sipped her tea, "We value lineage and wealth."

"What's that supposed to do with books?" I said, incredulously.

She smiled, "Older books are better than new books. Think of the classics; their value grows with time. That indicates lineage."

"And wealth?" I said, hiding my deadpan behind an expression of faked interest. A good book was a good book. Was this girl really being serious? She sounded like a bad English teacher.

Clink! The tea clicked with its plate as Renge placed the cup down, "That one's obvious! Do you know how much Ouran has invested in filling in all of our libraries up with these classics! The wealthy seek to surround themselves with more wealth…in the most elegant way possible, of course."

That explains the four libraries this school has. I didn't understand how her explanation could clarify why all the students here couldn't abide by the universal library law of silence (which is golden, after all. Shouldn't that have any worth to these dam—never mind.)

I nodded at Renge's words, hiding my disappointment then focused on stuffing my face with some more spaghetti. Needless to say, I was disillusioned. This was one of the few things I was looking forward to here at Ouran Academy. There were so many books—hundreds upon possibly thousands…but it felt like people outnumbered the volumes on every shelf whenever I step into those noisy libraries; It was…suffocating.

Though I also looked forward to the high-class food here, and DAMN, this spaghetti marinara did NOT disappoint.

As I drowned my sorrows in my fourth plate of pasta, Renge coughed. I ignored her and continued to stuff my face; it wouldn't be first and certainly not the last time someone felt uncomfortable at the amount of food I ate. But I was here to get my tuition's worth, so let a salty girl eat her inhumanely large fill, dammit.

After cleaning off my plate, I let out a content sigh and met Renge's eyes. She looked puzzled, but she quickly snapped out of her daze when her brown eyes met my gray ones.

"If you're looking for quiet, there is one place that you might like. Though…." She trailed off, her gaze now averting mine.

"What?" I said urgently.

She shook her head, "…It might be off limits."

"I can break the rules."

"Okay, meet me during club times today at Music Room #3." Renge said, smiling.

I nodded resolutely, "Sounds good."

...

Every protagonist has an antagonist. With every hero lies at least one villain.

Emphasis on 'at least one.'

See, the majority of the world didn't care about me if I stayed a hermit in hiding. Sure, if I flashed my face in a magazine article or two, there'd be some interference. But those interferences are merely distractions. With strength and mental fortitude, I can always pick myself up if I trip.

But, within the vast populations of the world, there exists a cold-blooded nemesis that rises above the rest, only seeking my doom. She, the boss monster, lies in wait, digging bottomless pitfalls in my path, seeking to knock me out for good-for her own personal gain. To trap me in something I could never climb out of.

I'll spoil something-give a forewarning. I've already met my arch nemesis. Her name is Renge.

And now, I've fallen into her custom-made pit of Hell.

I think you can guess what happens next.

Hint: Wax Floors.

A/N: And that's the first chapter! I hope you all enjoy it. In case you don't already know, this is a rewrite of another story of mine called Days. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and have a lovely day!