-The Writer- An Ouran High School Host Club Story

Prologue

After that night we had to wait four weeks for the letter either saying that I 'made it to Nationals' or some stupid apology letter telling me to 'try again next year'. I wasn't all too stressed. I made it to Nationals three times already, so nothing could be different about the fourth.

Surprise, surprise, I was right and we got the letter telling me I made it to Nationals. We went out to Pelicans again and that's when I started to get nervous. It would take a month for me to get the 'congrats you made it to Internationals!' or 'boo hoo, try again next time your writing sucks!'. That month I was a wreck. I was barely getting any sleep, I got extremely depressed, I couldn't focus on school work..

I wouldn't know what another failure would do to me.

Then the night came. The letter came in the mail in an obnoxiously large white envelope with a golden crest in the shape of a globe. All the other letters I received in the past didn't look like that, they were just sad little normal envelopes. Any normal person would have taken that as a good sign, but i was such a wreck I just assumed they decided to change up some things. I even started crying.

Lame, I know right?

My grandfather had to do his best to calm me down and it took me a whole two days to open the letter. Oh God, and when I opened it, it was the most dramatic thing ever! I wouldn't stop crying, I had a fucking panic attack, and I could barely hold the envelope because my hands were shaking so much.

All for me to open it to see that I had indeed, made it to internationals.

I then started to cry again, this time being with tears of joy. We skipped Pelicans that night and went to my favorite restaurant, Applebee's, to celebrate. Papa's cheap ass even decided to buy dessert. I remember feeling so overwhelmed and just genuine shock about the whole thing. It felt like I was on Cloud 9. I finally did it! I made it past Nationals!

But it wasn't over yet. The next day we had to prepare for our flight in two weeks. We would have to go to Japan, who was hosting the Junior International Writer's Convention that year, where I would have to read my paper to freaking 50 million people. I wasn't nervous.

I was mortified.

Public speaking was never a problem for me, but in front of an audience that huge under those circumstances... I wasn't having it.

I would have to push through though.

So two weeks later during spring break, my grandfather and I packed up our nicest suits and flew all the way to Japan with our prepaid plane tickets. That flight was hell for me, I've never been on a plane before and I almost puked a couple of times. I remember reading a copy of my paper over and over, rehearsing continuously, trying to suppress my urge to vomit.

Then, the big day finally came. To say I was mortified was now an understatement. I remember sitting in Papa and I's hotel room shaking like a fool, trying to hold back the tears as I rehearsed my reading. I guess Papa had enough of my pussiness and smacked me upside the head. He said to me,

"Boy, all that nervousness and crying ain't gone get you nowhere but on a pain filled plane ride back to the states! Now buck up, read that essay how you wrote it, and get it over with so you finally reach your goal!"

And that snapped me out of it for the most part. I suppressed my nervousness, puffed out my chest, and kept repeating what he said over and over in my head. Before we left the hotel I made sure that all my tears were wiped, my twist were straight, and my head was held high.

At the convention they had me and the fifty other kids chosen wait in a room for our turn to read. Some looked at scared as I was and had to get comforted by their parents, others looked confident like they've been here before, and some just looked indifferent. Papa was just sitting next to me and whispered something in my ear,