Ooh! I am back and feeling great! I've been down in Florida on a little...family emergency. I got a whole week off school to travel 23 hours down to Orlando to watch my grandmother's funeral...that was the first time I've ever seen my mother cry. It's confusing and I won't confuse you with my problems...While I was traveling, I was writing. And believe me, writing for 46 hours straight in a caravan can have drastic effects on ones hand. But it makes an incredible story! This is the longest one yet and it has an actual plotline! And actual plotline! Anyway, here it is, the crossover of crossovers, the Yin-Yang Theory! Okies, don't let the length and the number of worlds scare you away! This is a good story! Even my crazy mother said so! If I use a world you don't know, don't worry, I will explain it all as if you never read the books or saw the show or whatever. You don't have to know me to know just from this disclaimer that I'm a thorough writer, but my stories are pretty kewl. This is the best yet, so take a read! I make no money from this. It starts out with only our world, but then it goes to the Z world (Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama), then the Pokemon world (Don't flame me about this, it was my brother's idea! Most of that part was written by my eight-year-old brother, David. It is distributed by Pioneer entertainment, and since it is owned by Nintendo, I've no idea who wrote it.), then the Animorphs world (written by K.A. Applegate), the Star Wars world (by George Lucas and several others), Harry Potter's world (by a lovely Englishwoman by the name of J.K. Rowling), the Sailor World (by Naoko Takeuchi), and the Digital World (Akiyoshi Hongo). All that is in the future, but these will be the only disclaimers in my story, unless it's for something less. Well, enough of the extremely long Author's notes, on with it!
***
Chapter 1: A Dragonball?!
I groaned as my mother shook me again, trying to make me open my eyes at the early hours of the morning. She did this every day, 5 AM sharp. And this was on school days. See, I've got insomnia, and I've got it bad. My brain works on overload at all times. Including when I'm asleep. Last night, I had three dreams going on at once. I don't know how it's possible, so don't ask me.
"Sarah Angel Galis, wake your sorry butt up before I get the Pine-Sol," Mom told me as she slapped my face. The Pine-Sol was only used if I couldn't get up at all. She sprays it on my stomach, to which I then had to take a shower. I moaned as I opened my bleary eyes and stared up at her, my blue-green eyes flaring.
"Don't you look at me like that, child," she scolded, "Get dressed, bus will come any minute now." Actually, that was not the case. As I glanced at the clock, it said 5: 13. The bus wasn't going to be pulling up at that corner until 6:30. I had no clue why she insisted on getting me up an hour and a half before the bus was to come, but she did it every morning regardless of my complaints.
"I don't get it," I grumbled as I pulled on my blue jeans. Correction: one of the only two pairs I owned. I only had one other pair of pants besides, and those were to wear under my skirts on the coldest of the days in the Kansas winters. It's not that I didn't have enough clothes, it's just that mom disapproves of "ladies" wearing pants. I don't know why, she just does.
I have a total of three skirts that I'll actually wear to school, though, so I have to do laundry often if I'm going to wear them. I have about 20 shirts to top them all off and three pairs of shoes. All three are worn, but I like them that way. My favorites are these brown boots with camouflage shoestrings. The other two are a pair of high-heeled black boots that have a zipper on the side and a pair of Velcro tennis shoes. I dislike both, but that's okay, because I hardly ever wear either anyway.
Today, I pulled a pale, sky blue shirt over my head. It was blank except for a name on the front, written in navy blue paint to near-perfection. My nickname and middle name stood proudly on the front, with a slight halo over the "A". My brown hair was pulled back in my typical trademark hairstyle, a high ponytail. My hair was much thicker than my mother's, whose hair was so thin you could see her scalp underneath it. It was also longer. My hair, when down, reached the small of my back.
Once I was dressed and in front of my full-length mirror, I noticed for the thousandth time that my figure was nowhere near where I wanted it. In fact, I was chubby. I've always wanted to be thin and muscular, with bright, shining blue eyes and straight black hair that stopped at my shoulders.
"Well, Angel," I said to my image in the mirror, "As usual, this is as good as it's gonna get." I knew I was quoting Mia from the Princess Diaries, but what she'd said was true for me. "I don't think I'll even be able to get thin, let alone change my hair and eye colors." My bed being to my right, I flopped over onto it and looked around my room, bringing it all into perspective. My closet, with the mirror on the door, was on the right wall from my vantage point. My dresser, computer desk, and calendar sat on the wall dead in front of me. To the left of my computer desk was another wall, containing several of my drawings. Then, a window, which held a cage containing my pet rat, Goku, in front of it. Finally, my eyes drifted to the base of my bed, where two bookshelves containing book upon book upon book sat.
"Jeez," I whispered to myself, "I must have three-thousand books on that thing by now." And I wasn't far from the truth, either. The last time I'd counted those books, there had been 2500 books, and that had been about three years ago.
My eyes drifted back to my computer. There, in that dandelion chair, I'd sat and typed away four years of my life. Over seventy stories written about my favorite books and TV shows, but the majority had been about my love of Dragonball Z. There, on that 13 inch screen, on that ordinary keyboard, with that two-button mouse and the twin speaker sound system, I had written my heart out hour after hour, day by day, month by month, and year to year. Most of those stories had been my thoughts and feelings of what I would do if I'd ever gotten the chance, the slim reality, of being taken to the world of my imagination and being made real. I knew it was a silly dream and that there were millions of others out there, just like me, wanting to meet them.
But still, each night for the past four years, I'd stared longingly out my bedroom window, deep into the night for I could never quite shut my eyes and sleep, and make that simple wish on one of the stars. I'd memorized each constellation and wished on nearly ever star I could find in the brightly-lit sky.
I'd said the same words again and again, "Oh stars above, grant my wish, send me soaring, send me flying, send me to the plane of my imagination. Please, grant my wish." I'd stare up into the sky until at last my eyes were heavy and I slipped into the land of my dreams, where all I'd ever wished for came true. That was why my mother could never wake me, because I didn't want to leave the world of my fantasy.
"Angel, Hun," I said to myself, "You've got to get a grip on reality." With all this taken into account, I still had fears. Phobias that I hope my friends will never discover. I hate being alone in anything, and yet, no matter how many people are around me, I am lonely. I have few friends, and none of them I could consider completely true. I can't tell anyone everything, not even my mother. Truth be told, I was afraid of a lot more than fear itself.
"Angel, the bus will be coming in no time at all, get yourself in this kitchen and eat something!" my mother screamed at me. I sat up on my bed and took one last glance at my room before heading out into the world again. I was leaving behind my fancies and going back into the real world, where no one but I cared about me.
I sat at the table across from my mother and next to my youngest brother, David. Dee, as we called him, was eight years old and a pain in the rear, if you asked me. Of course, my mom saw him as her little angel and that he could do no wrong because he was only a "baby". My other brother sat beside my mom, dressed in clothes only him and his punk friends would wear. His name was Matthew, but he preferred to be called Tiger.
"Morning, Tiger," I said seductively, just to tease him.
"Hey, Angel, whatcha bin doin' in there, waitin' to get laid?" he sneered.
"Matthew James, if I hear something like that out of your mouth again I will sure as anything cut your allowance!" my mom screeched at him.
"Keep your shirt on, Mom," he sneered, "I was only half-jokin'." I could not believe my ears as Mom took him by the ear and started saying several words I will not repeat. After all, Matthew was only 14, whilst I was 15.
"I'm outta here," I said as I stood abruptly. Mom waved good-bye, still scolding Tiger. I took hold of my pack and walked into my greatest fear, the one that I faced every single day.
The dark.
It wasn't so much as the dark as it was my own imagination. My heart pounded as I walked slowly toward my bus stop. My eyes saw monsters that weren't there, my ears heard sounds that were translated to screams of fury and shuffling feet set on destroying me, my bare arms felt shifts in the wind that were nonexistent, and my tongue tasted things on the air that only a paranoid person as I could possible find a threat.
"What was that?!" I whispered to myself as I glanced behind me, my eyes darting every which way even as my head turned. I calmed myself down and turned to look straight ahead.
Come on, Sarah, you know it ain't there, I told myself, Focus on the task at hand. I reached my bus stop and sighed with relief as soon as I saw Ashley, a pretty freshmen with blondish-brown hair. As soon as "morning" left her lips, though, I was straight and formal as if the monster incident had never happened. Ashley had never seen my fear of the dark and neither had any of my other school "friends".
And I planned on keeping it that way.
The yellowish-orange bus rolled to a stop, caution lights flashing even before it stopped. I climbed aboard and set my head against the window with a loud clank. My pack sat beside me, still as it was since the day I'd bought it. Sometimes, I'd imagine that it could talk to me and it'd be my best friend. But when all was said and done, I knew it be still again the minute my brain stopped it's hard work of seeing the bag move.
I stared out the window as the houses and establishments rushed past and I whispered to myself, so that no one could hear, "What is life that I am so alone?" Then I wondered if I thought too much. A sigh escaped my lips as I walked calmly into Northeast Magnet High School and put the combination into my locker. I opened it and did what I normally did with it; I put my coat and homework books inside and took out my things for Physical Science.
"Why must school be so monotonous, Mr. Wessling?" I asked him as I saw him beside the door, "The same classes day in and day out, it never changes until semesters or next year."
"I don't know, Miss Sarah," He answered with a small smile, "It's been that way since I went to High School and they haven't changed it since. Maybe they think it's a good thing."
"It's obviously not," I said haughtily.
"What makes you say that?"
"The students are bored half out of their minds seven eighths of the time, and the only time they're not is when they are talking to their friends," I smiled sadly, "And I'm afraid I don't share in that particular joy." I walked down the hall to my class with a sigh.
David Wessling stared after Sarah.
"I wonder what will become of her?" he asked himself, "She's the loneliest student here, and yet she has a thought-line that even I can't decipher." He shook his head and greeted another student, this one who simply gave the assistant principal a cold stare before heading for their class, leaving David with his thoughts.
My first block class was as usual. BORING! Mr. Schmidt was one of the few teachers of my school career that I disliked. His attitude about science was that boys were better than girls, so the girls, like myself, had to work three times as hard to please him. I was one of the few "prizes" as he put it, so I had an A in his class. But my friend, Diane, had a C.
Second block wasn't much better, nor was third. Lunch was too fast for my liking and fourth block shot past. Fourth was English and I thoroughly enjoyed Ms. Schmidt's class.
My bus was waiting in it's usual place to escort me home and I gladly accepted my shabby coach. I always sat in the front while the others sat in the back.
"So, how was school?" Miss Ginny asked me. Miss Ginny is a very nice lady who drives the bus for us every day. I know not many people respect bus drivers because they are supposed to be stupid, but you know, when you think about it, how many people are going to drive their kids to school? How many people are willing to get up at 5 in the morning and go to a job where they have to drive a bunch of screaming kids to school every day and then drive them back, and not blow their tops?
Maybe that's why the Sedgwick county transportation system is looking for more bus drivers. Oh, well.
"I can't believe some of the kids in my first block," I said, "Mr. Schmidt may be a bad teacher, but that's no reason to try and drive him through the wall!"
"They tried to do that?" She looked shocked.
"Not literally," I giggled, "Just trying to drive him insane, that's all."
"Oh," she breathed a sigh of relief. We had a very nice conversation on the way home and I waved good-bye from the curb as she drove off, leaving Ashley, Matt Lions (A dark haired boy who only rides in the afternoon), and me alone. The other two took off toward there homes and I toward my own, not looking forward to facing my raving mother or my drunk-as-skunks brother and father. Luckily, I've always been able to avoid being raped by either one, but my mother isn't always so lucky.
Like I said, I'm not living in the best of the life, but I'm not living in the worst of it, either. I'm not on the verge of killing myself or killing someone else. Sure, my brother and father have attempted raping me, but both are always drunk when they try it, so neither are really strong enough anyway.
My homecoming was like it was every day; silence. Mom was out back, finishing cleaning up from last night. Dad was at work and neither him nor Tiger came home until both were drunk. David wouldn't be home for another hour from school. When he did, I always got him to do his homework, eat dinner, take a bath, and go to bed, long before Tiger and Daddy got home. Mom approved of this, but still raved about how it was a little too early for him to be going to bed, but she didn't care either way.
(AN: My real family is no where near this bad, but I had to spice it up. Am I using too many Larry-Sues? Yes, this is a little lemony and suggestive, but it's my story! Anyway, neither my brother nor my father are sex-fiends nor do they go get drunk. They are both against it, as is my mother, so don't get the wrong idea!)
I finally got him into his bed at 6 o'clock and went to do my own homework. I was just about to enter my bedroom, when I felt a pair of arms wrap crudely around my waist.
"Hey, sis," my brother slurred, "Come with me, I want to show you something." I stiffened, he had such a strong grip for his normally drunken state.
"Tiger, let me go," I said, my lip quivering a little.
"No vay, little Angel," he licked my cheek, leaving an alcoholic scent on my face as he breathed on me, "You're my toy tonight." I stiffened again and tried to break free, but to no avail. My stomach was doing flip-flops and he knew it. His grip tightened and I felt his entire body meshed with mine.
"Bro, you're scaring me," I practically whispered.
"I am?" he inquired, his eyebrow raised against my neck, "Good." I'd had enough. My arms may have been pinned to my side, but my legs most certainly weren't. I kicked him in a place that would make any man wince at the thought and raced out of the house, grabbing my purse, pack, and jacket on the way out. I had an emergency fifty in it in case the boys decided to come home and try something. I also had a change of clothes and several of my drawing things packed inside an extra pack.
I grabbed my bike out of the garage and headed to the closest motel, where the manager knew me well.
"Hey, it's Angel!" laughed Mike, the Inn Motel's manager, "Your brother and father come home drunk again?"
"Yeah," I grumbled as I gave him the fifty.
"Forget it," he said with a smile. He handed the fifty back to me. "You can stay at my house tonight." I shook my head.
"Now don't you start that again, Mike," I growled at him. He had done this once before and I'd nearly been raped by his little brother, who was three years older than me. He laughed but remained serious about the proposition, so I left. I wandered aimlessly around the area and finally stopped outside the Towne West Mall.
"Maybe the new video is in," I said to myself and went inside, intending to go to the Suncoast Movies store, where I could count on the monthly DBZ videos to be in. My mouth dropped open when I saw a new store right inside the entrance called Antiques. Me being my curious self, I went in. I casually looked around and stopped the instant my eyes fell on a perfectly round, golden ball with four orange stars on it.
"A Dragonball!" I hissed to myself, "No way!" I walked over to it and picked it up, finding it extremely heavy.
"Do you like it, Miss?" a man behind me asked.
"Is this what I think it is?" I asked, my face shrewd.
"Make a wish, young one," he said with a smile, "I know you've had one for the longest. Maybe it's time that wish was granted." I stared at him in shock. "Just say the words, Angel."
"Who are you?" I asked.
"A friend," was his only answer, "Make your wish and you shall find your happiness, young angel."
"I-I wish to be a Saiyan in the Z dimension, where only my dreams can be achieved," I said uncertainly. He smiled at me and waved at me as though I were going on a cruise.
"Expect the unexpected, Angel!" were his last words as a bright light engulfed me.
***
Okay, long 1st chapter, I know, but keep reading, this is going to get good. Oh, and if you don't approve of rape, this is the story for you! It refers to it, but Angel always gets away from it (so far, I don't know what I'm going to do about it.) I made up a few things, but it's good, I swear! Must go, I'm taking up valuable computer time, Bye!
Angel of the Dragon