Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, DBGT, or any of the characters in it. Don't sue.

~PART 3~

11/24

I went to train with Uncle today. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm turning into a WEAKLING! Yes, Uncle noticed that too and made a few rude comments but he stopped when he noticed that I wasn't particularly pleased with them.

I told Uncle about the talk I had with Trunks (excluding the kiss of course) and asked for his opinion about it. As usual, Uncle gave me this big comforting grin and told me everything was going to turn out fine. He really reminds me of Grandpa when he does this.

I need to join some more extra curricular activities. I don't want to, but it will certainly help me with my college application. Which of these sounds more appealing?

a) Volleyball Team.

b) Drama Club.

c) Basketball Team.

d) Rocks and Mineral Club.

e) Newspaper.

11/26

I decided to try out for the Basketball Team. It was very boring, running around the gym at my slowest speed (which is still faster than everybody else) and chasing after the little orange ball. The coach was just thrilled that I decided to join the team; she even offered me the captain position. She was probably hoping I could lead the team to better results this year than the shameful losing scores from last year. I refused the captain position, mainly because the current captain was staring at me with so much hatred that I felt sorry for her.

I bumped into Bra in the hall when I was on my way to my locker. I guess she just finished with a dance committee meeting. A wave of guilt washed over me and I kind-of regret that I didn't help her on that stupid day. Bra never asked for help unless she absolutely needed it.

ANYWAYS, I think I better go and do some homework.

11/30

Mom is acting weirder and weirder. Today I came home and found her sitting in my room, going through all the drawers in my desk. She didn't even notice that I was there until I cleared my throat. The sound startled her greatly; she jumped up, looked around and finally, for the first time, saw me. I flashed her a big fake smile. She looked nervous.

Me: May I ask just what are you doing in my room?

Mom: Cleaning.

Me: Ever occurred to you that I am able to clean my own room?

Mom: Yes, but I am only trying to help.

Me: Thanks but no thanks.

Mom opened her mouth to say something but then decided against it. She stood up and left. I picked up a pillow and threw it to the door closing behind her. "And you're not welcome to come to my room again!" I yelled after her. I know I'm being a bitch but I can't take this shit anymore.

Ever since that incident happened, Mom had been acting like a stranger. She hardly ever smiles, or laughs, or jokes around now. I know how hard the incident affected her but why can't she just deal with it? It's been almost two years since it happened.

WHY CAN'T EVERYTHING JUST GO BACK TO THE WAY THEY WERE BEFORE THAT STUPID INCIDENT?

12/1

My school counsellor called me down during fifth period. What's even more embarrassing is that they called me down through the P.A system. "Would Pan Son please come down to the guidance counsellor office?" That's like tattooing the word "Psycho" on your forehead.

Everybody was staring at me as I make my way slowly to the door with my binders and books. I can feel their curious glares burning my back. I wanted to turn around and give them the finger but I couldn't risk getting suspended again.

I got suspended twice already. The first suspension was because this asshole wanted to fight me (I called him weak). I didn't want to waste any of my precious time with fighting him so I simple punched him in the jaw lightly – which still resulted in a dislocated jaw. A couple of months later, I was suspended because of my bad language. Okay, so I swear a little bit. Who doesn't? But now Dad had lay down the law, it's either I be a good little girl or he's sending me to a boarding school somewhere FAR from here.

When I arrived at the guidance counsellor's office, the first thing I noticed was that the lights were all dim and there was vanilla scented candles everywhere. The guidance counsellor, an ancient little man who loved to drink (it was rumoured that there was a bottle of Whiskey hidden in his desk) was staring at me like a hawk staring at its prey.

"Miss Son, please take a seat." He gestured towards the blue chair in front of his desk. The chair was missing a leg and there was a huge blob of green stuff on it, probably dried vomit. I told him that I would rather stand.

He shrugged, unpleased. "Whatever you want." Next, he started shooting questions at me. Stupid questions like "How are you doing in school?" "How are things at home?" "Is everything okay?" "Are you sure?" "How are your parents?" "Are you feeling pressured in any way?" and etc.

For the yes/no questions, I answered with a nod or a shake of my head. For the other questions, I made my answer as simple as possible. I managed to keep a big smile on my face all this time too and made my voice super cheerful. I really should get an Oscar or something for my wonderful performance.

Finally, he was stopped asking questions. Leaning back in his huge leather chair, he took out a slip out paper from the breast pocket of his shirt – it was my report card. He stared at it for about ten minutes. I squirmed uncomfortably; as I said before, I hate silences. Finally, he spoke again. "You have some excellent marks."

I gave him a blank look. Jeez, what was I supposed to say? Thank you so much for telling me that?

"You should consider a better university than," he named the university I had chosen previously. "You can get scholarships, I'm sure. Money won't be a problem."

"Money is not a problem." I said, my anger rising. I don't need him to tell me what to do. I have enough people doing that already. "I don't want to go to any other universities." I paused, waiting to see his reaction. Not a muscle on his face even twitched though. I bit my lips. "If that's all you wanted to talk to me about, then I think I should leave now." I started towards the door; he didn't make a move to stop me.

It was only then that I noticed that my nose was bleeding. I don't know why my nose bleeds every time I got mad. It started a few days after that incident. I don't…um, hold that thought, somebody is knocking on my window. I wonder who…it's Trunks!