*****Okay, here goes. First chapter, I'm so excited! There's a lot of bad language (mainly from AJ) but other than that, it's pretty innocent. Most of it will be in A.J.'s POV, but I'll be sure to let you know when POVs change. Like I said before, I don't own Ouran High School Host Club, this is just a fanfic. Enjoy!*****

 "Deddy! I'm leavin' now!" I yelled as I ran out the door, not giving him or my wretched stepmother a chance to protest. I was out the door and in my friend T-Paul's Chevy in record time. "Wha's goin' on sha?" he asked, flashing me a sly grin as he threw the truck in reverse. "Comment ci, comment ca," I replied with a shrug. "Tres Alex is bein' a couillon again and I'm tellin' ya, if that tataille he calls a wife keeps jumpin' in when I'm talkin' to him, I'ma feed her to the gatahs, yeah," I grumbled as the Breaux Mansion slowly disappeared from view. Yeah, a mansion. I'm Louisiana's favorite little heiress to talk about. Adrienne Jeanette Breaux, diva gone overboard. Pfft, just because I won't socialize with upper class snobs and I would rather go hunting than go to some gala automatically categorizes me as a juvenile delinquent. "Girl, did ya hear me? Earth to A.J.!" T-Paul yelled, snapping his fingers in my face and disrupting my thoughts.

"Hmm? Yeah?" I replied, staring out the window as we sped down the road, leaving the New Orleans city limits. I was born and raised here, never known anything more than this. "I said, you think Rae would be able to bring you home after the bonfire?" I shrugged and looked at him out of the corner of my eye. T-Paul wasn't anyone important by society's standards-- just some high school kid that works with his Dad in an auto shop after school. I think that's why he was my best friend. I was born into wealth and success, and T-Paul and his girl Rae were the only ones to make me feel normal. "She better. I don't need ya drunk ass drivin' me tonight, no," I snorted. He made a noise of half-hearted agreement as we pulled in front of Rae's house. The yard was packed with cars, trucks, bikes; it seemed like everyone within a two-mile radius was packed together on Rae's property. She wasn't exactly rich, but she never wanted for anything. She was what my dad called "mid-middle class". I envied her; she could get anything she wanted without any trouble, and she didn't have everyone inspecting her life under a microscope.

T-Paul opened my door for me and I got out slowly, inspecting myself as I stood. My black button-up shirt was tied in a knot just above my belly button and the sleeves were rolled up to my elbows; my long, light brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, a silver stud in my nose, a pair of shredded black jeans, and a pair of combat boots completing my look. I walked behind him with confidence, noticing the looks people were giving me. I hated the attention, but if they were going to stare, I might as well give them a reason. I dug through my purse, the strap snug across my chest as I stuck my arm in the bottom of the bag, digging around for my cigarettes. I pulled one out of the pack and stuck it between my lips, grinning triumphantly as I lit it. People made me nervous, and I smoked a lot more when I was nervous or angry. Shitty habit, I know, but there are worse things I could do. "Those damn things' ll kill you, yeah," T-Paul scolded. I took a long drag and tilted my head back, exhaling slowly. "Don't take life so seriously. No one makes it out alive anyway," I replied with a smirk. Music blared from a set of speakers on the back patio, and a fire blazed in the middle of the yard, reaching almost as high as the trees. Rae waved and stumbled over to us. Great, she had already started drinking. So much for my ride home. "C'mon, let's go have some fun," T-Paul grinned as he started heading toward Rae. Lord, was he wrong. So very very wrong...

Okay, that's it! Sorry it's so short but chapter 2 will be up as soon as I'm done editing!! ^_^

P.S. If you don't understand the things in italics, try skimming over the glossary I've provided. Hopefully it helps a little.

P.P.S. I've provided a picture of what A.J. looks like. All credit for the photo goes to ShawnMichaelsGirl on chickensmoothie.com