Uhm.. Hi! :D I'm kinda popping my DBZ story cherry here.. so dun rip my face off TOO much.. please?

Just a quickie, yeah, this is gonna end up being girlxgirl. If you're really against that then don't waste your time.. If you like it, then yay D Be happy, you've found some.

I dunno how far they're gonna go, so rating is subject to change.

I dun own anything except any random characters that show up that aren't from DBZ or summat. DON'T SUE MEE TT

And now I'munna be quiet XD Uhm.. enjoy I guess!

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Stupid, I know, but the first thing I noticed about her was her hair. But who couldn't notice her hair? She was fucking blonde, everybody notices that. Blonde, and stunning at that. Rare in a rainy, drab town like ours. Cut short with side-swept bangs, not a single strand out of place, blue eyes just barely glowing from underneath. She may well have walked around with a sign that proclaimed in giant red bubble letters "CITY GIRL" with a sloppy arrow pointing at her head.

Absently, I doodled the sign next to my calculus notes, wondering vaguely if my sloppy, sketchy messes could ever come close to the real thing. I doubted it, and scribbled over the beginnings of her hair, knowing a lost cause when I saw it.

Of course, the second thing I realized was that she was a senior, and any hope that I was beginning to build at the sight of her checking out some girl in the first row instantly shot itself in the face with a shotgun. For god's sake, I'm a fucking freshman. You would think that being a freshman with 5 out of 6 of your classes being at least junior level would mean you were dating all the hot seniors and juniors, right? Wrong. Wrong. So wrong. It just meant that I was ridiculously deprived of human interaction, because I was cripplingly shy, and no senior wants to talk to some loser freshman too shy to say any more than some math answer, especially if she's enough of a nerd to be in classes 3 or 4 years ahead of her.

I glanced up from my notebook, the page now covered with lyrics from obscure folk-punk bands, and caught sight of her again, standing awkwardly at the front of the room, off in the corner, obviously wondering where she was supposed to be going and what she was supposed to be doing. She glanced nervously around, probably wondering where the teacher was.

Poor girl. If only she knew that the dumb drunkard of a woman would do nothing more than stumble into the room, glance around through glazed eyes, and collapse onto her chair, where she would then proceed to either a) vomit uncontrollably or b) pass out, sprawled over the ocean of papers that she could never be bothered to grade. Once, we actually heard her speak. Of course, that was the day that she'd had a hangover rather than being absolutely wasted, and she'd thrown a chair at a kid for tapping his pencil too loud.

On the bright side, nobody's failing calculus. She keeps handing out the A's and we just keep saying that she's the best teacher we've ever had, and she gets a nice big check in the mail every couple of weeks for more booze. Everybody wins.

Ten minutes into the period and the blonde looks like she's trying to actually melt into the wall, and still no sight of our drunken teacher (we never did find out her name, so most people just call her Miss Tequila.) The girl looks like she's finally given up hope, and as she's just starting to pull out a black iPod video and unwrap the bright blue headphones, Miss Tequila finally barged into the room, eyes bloodshot, hair sticking up in angles weirder than the guy to the left of me, who probably uses a quarter bottle of hair gel every morning.

Dear god, she isn't drunk.

I think I was the only one in the class who even bothered to acknowledge her entrances anymore. . . everybody else just assumed that she'd already passed out, considering the lack of retching noises and splattering coming from the from of the room. She has bags under her eyes bigger than the one back in my locker, her eyes are more red than white (Don't shoot until you see the red of their eyes?) and one piece of her hair is sticking up at least 8 inches before it falls into her face, but she isn't drunk. The room feels almost as if it's throbbing with the noise of conversations about who fucked who and comparing who got where in World of Warcraft, and the sound of guys crumpling up pieces of notebook paper to chuck at each other. One of the potheads passes a dime bag to some new customer in exchange for a crisp 10 bill.

She stands up there next to next girl for a few moments longer, staring at the room full of teenagers, looking as deranged as I'm pretty sure is humanly possible, for a good five seconds (I suppose that she was trying to be patient.) without being noticed, before she finally let out an absolutely horrible, banshee-like screech and raked her nails along the chalkboard. Of course, by then every eye in the room was on her (one guy was even scrambling to find his cell phone to record evidence of Miss Tequila's ability to speak, as that was obviously what she was gearing up to do.) but the hungover, possibly high woman hadn't had her way with our class yet.. she had a look on her face like some dude in one of those action movies finally able to extract his revenge, and as she stumbled over to the pale of textbooks in the corner, we all hid under our desks.

"I knew we should've burned them when we had the chance.." One of the potheads whispered fearfully from behind me, notebook held in front of his face, as though the flimsy thing would really protect him from a 700 page hardcover textbook.

The strangest thing happened next.

Rather than picking up the whole pile of textbooks and throwing them at the class like she normally would've done, she picked up a single textbook, carried it back to the blonde girl, and said something about sitting in the empty seat near the back, which would've been more helpful if there was a single seat in the room that wasn't empty. Then, a little bit louder, so that we knew that she was talking to us now, "Guys, this is Juuachi. Don't bite."

And with that she sat down at her desk and began grading papers, as though she did this every day, while an empty bottle of Absolute vodka rolled from under her chair.

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Kind of a short chapter.. But I liked the ending. XD I'm working on the second chappy right now, so it'll be up pretty soon if you wanna read more. 3 Click tat review button.. please? I dun bite!

Well, unless you want me too..