Disclaimer: If I owned DBZ, I probably would not have an English seminar paper due on Monday. Man, wouldn't that be nice. *sigh*

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The Conceit of a Happy Life

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Chapter 7

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Getting Knocked Down a Notch

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"You know, for the spawn of a tyrant like Frieza, she sure is lazy," I hear Goten remark dully.

"Is she sick?" a girl asks. Sounds like the Bra child.

"It's hard to say. She does sleep a lot…"

"Maybe she's just trying to escape. A psychological reaction or something. I mean, it's not like she has any other way to get away from us," Trunks reasons.

That any of these earth-dwelling imbeciles should presume to understand how I feel is infuriating. That they dare share their idiotic conjectures where I can clearly hear them is absolutely intolerable.

"If you're going to talk about me, do it ELSEWHERE!" I shout, wrenching the blanket from my face—where does the damn thing keep coming from? "God, don't you people have anything better to do than to stand over me gawking all the time?"

"Heey, check out the new 'do!" Goten exclaims. "It really suits you. You know, despite the…" And because he can find no words to describe my battered face, he instead waves a hand in front of his own to indicate nonverbally the state of mine.

"Goten!" Bulma barks. "How is that any way to compliment a woman?"

"Oh!" Goten says, catching his mistake. "Yeah, that didn't come out right at all. Sorry. Heh heh."

'Heh heh'? I'll teach him not to chuckle at me—

"It's too short," Bra says candidly. "Long hair is prettier."

"That's not a fair estimation of beauty, Bra. Don't you think my hair is pretty?" Bulma inquires with a shake of her short yet clearly stylish locks.

Bra watches her, unblinking.

"Long hair is prettier," she repeats, not at all dissuaded from her opinion.

"Bra, dear," her mother says sweetly. "Don't you have some choirs to do? I think I hear the garbage calling."

"No, it's not."

"Oh, yes, it is. It's saying, 'Take me out! Take me out right now, Bra'!"

"But it's Trunks's turn!" the girl cries indignantly.

"Yes, but Trunks also thinks his mother is beautiful, don't you, Trunks?"

"The most beautiful mother in the world," Trunks simpers with a twinkle in his eye.

"Liar, Trunks! That's not fair! I didn't say you weren't beautiful, Mommy—just your hair!"

"Trash. Now. Get your tushy moving, missy."

"But it's not faaaiiiir!" Bra wails as she stomps out of the room.

"Ha ha!" Trunks calls after her.

"I HATE YOU!" the child screams. And a door slams.

Ridiculous.

"Sorry about that," Bulma says with a small sigh. "She's quite the handful. And Vegeta's no help, the way he indulges her and treats her like a little princess. Well, I suppose she is a Saiyan princess in a way, but still—"

"Princess or not, where I come from she'd be beaten within inches of her life for that," I say coldly. "Such insubordination from a brat like that requires a firm hand—not useless excuses."

The smile disappears from Bulma's face, and she fixes her gaze on me. "Don't tell me how to raise my children, Chiru," she glares, all the good humor gone from her voice. The look in her eyes is enough to silence me, not least because I detect a hint of something unexpected…disappointment?

"Trunks, Goten, if she wants to be left alone, then we'll leave her alone," Bulma concedes sternly, rising from the armrest she'd propped herself on and walking away.

When she reaches the threshold, she stops and looks over her shoulder directly at me. "Chiru, what I will not tolerate is your behavior. We are all doing our part to accept you—even Vegeta in his own way—and your constant disrespect and ingratitude is not acceptable. How dare you judge me—judge any of us—when we don't judge you? If you want to leave so badly, then leave."

She holds my gaze, unblinking, serious.

"You know that's not what I want," she continued. "But I will not suffer your bratty attitude in this house anymore. You can stay or you can go, but make your decision and be done with it."

And she leaves.

Goten and Trunks cast me awkward glances as they get up and follow her out. Not until I'm alone again do I realize I'm about to cry. Why am I reacting this way? She didn't hit me. She didn't lock me up and do away with me until I became interesting or necessary or useful again. She didn't take away my consciousness, my life, my very breath. If anything, she's given me a choice, and now I'm the one calling the shots. So why doesn't it feel that way? Why do I feel more trapped than ever?

Because she's right.

Beneath all my anger and pride, I know that, and I hate her for it. And I hate myself for it. And I don't know what to do about it.

So I lie back down and sulk.

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…I know what I want to do now.

…I just don't know how to do it.

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Evening rolls around. No one has spoken to me or even entered the room since the scene earlier, and I've been alone with my thoughts the entire time. I suppose I have what is called a guilty conscious about all this, though identifying the feeling doesn't really make what I have to do any easier.

I hear the clinking of plates and silverware in the next room, and the robust aroma of cooked meat taunts my nostrils, mouth, and stomach.

It's now or never, I decide, getting to my feet, carrying out what I hope is the right decision.

I quietly make my way to the door, taking a deep breath…

…and walk into the dining room.

Five pairs of eyes look up at me, and the conversation stops.

Vegeta looks away quickly with a "tch", resuming the task of piling assorted meats and gravies onto his plate. Bulma returns to her plate as well, and Trunks and Goten follow suit. Only Bra continues to stare at me, and I feel foolish and awkward just standing here. The child senses my discomfiture and swallowing her mouthful of food, grips the table to steady herself as she scoots her chair to the side, revealing the extra place setting prepared for one more person.

I keep my expression blank as I steal over to the chair and sit down, determined not to look at the others. Everyone carries on as if nothing has happened or is happening, but it's a strained effort at normality, for the conversation doesn't pick back up and the only sounds are of tableware clinking and mouths chewing.

I take no food for myself, too occupied with trying to find the solution to the practically impossible problem before me:

Sociability.

"Dinner looks…"

I struggle to find the right words.

"Delicious," I decide, realizing how pitiful my three-word assertion is and bracing myself for a counterattack.

"Would you like some pork?" Bulma asks, catching me off-guard with a sudden return of kindness.

"Um, yes," I reply warily.

"There's also rice, mashed potatoes, chicken, and caribou."

"And I made peas!" Bra announces.

"And Bra made peas," Bulma smiles, completing the list.

"That all sounds…"

Adjectives fail me.

"Delicious," I finish again lamely. My mouth has dried up, and I swear it's from the ash of this public crash and burn.

"Chicken are despicable creatures," Vegeta suddenly unleashes to the dinner table. "The most idiotic of all the bird species. They deserve to be wrung, plucked, chopped, and broiled for my dinner."

"Daddy, that's disgusting!" Bra cries, kicking the underside of the table hard enough that the plates on the surface jump. One of the hunks of juicy meat rolls over nicely from the force, its oil glistening under the ceiling lights.

"Disgusting?" I mumble, slightly salivating. "No…delicious is what it is. Can, uh, can someone pass some of that bird to me…please?"

"It finally shows some manners," sneers Vegeta as Goten hands me the platter of bird pieces with a wink. Bulma and Trunks try to hide their amused grins by pretending to take a sip from their glasses. Bra chants "disgusting, disgusting, disgusting" until Trunks flicks a pea at her, at which point she starts wailing again. Somehow she's become the unruly one in the room making everyone uncomfortable.

And despite how odd as it sounds, I feel relieved it isn't me.

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To Be Continued…

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A/N:

Perhaps a little corny, but I feel like it had to happen. I was shooting for cute but realistic, so I hope that's how it comes across. I'm not trying to write a sappy story here, but I feel like Chiru should be an immature, socially inept character right now, what with her background. And I wanted to show how strong a woman Bulma can be, both as a maternal figure and as a head of the house along with Vegeta. And yeah, the girls dominated this chapter, but equal attention to all, right? Haha

As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think! I always love to hear what parts made readers laugh because I'd like to do more of those as the story goes. : )

P.S.

I saw the midnight showing of Wolverine tonight, and I was really impressed! Granted, I didn't expect many positive things from it (not after the disaster X-Men 3 proved to be), but I think the film did a good job, and I was definitely entertained. And if for no other reason, go and check out how awesome Ryan Reynolds is outside of his usual movie roles as Deadpool. Well, Deadpool's not so much outside his usual roles, really, because he's still snarky and assholish, but it's amplified, and he's insane, and best of all super bad ass. And HOT AS HELL to boot!

Ahem.

Anyway, I recommend the film.

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On to the Reviewer Responses:

aspideringossamerwebs: lol! I did hear you laughing that night, but I just figured you were laughing at an e-mail or something. I'm so glad it was actually chapter 6, instead! Raul just kind of happened, and maybe it wasn't all the politically correct, but…I'm having fun putting Chiru through the ringer. Lmao Thanks as always for your reviews! I will definitely keep the fun a'comin'. : )

Lord Sneeze: There was some shennaniganary in this chapter, but if you want true and hardcore shenanigans, tune in next week for…bum bum bummm…CHAPTER 8! lol