My bracelets jangled and clinked loudly together as I walked down the Main
Hall of Orange Star High School. "Can't they ever find something else to
stare at?" I thought, as heads turned to look at me; mostly boys. "Who are
you?" A Prep., and her friends, most likely Cheerleaders, asked me.
"Someone who doesn't like you." I answered snidely, and then pushed through
them. "We didn't dismiss you." One of them called after me. "No one
dismisses me. I do what I please." I turned around, and gave them a cold
glare. "I hope they're not all like this." I thought. I walked to my
locker, and grabbed all of my books for the rest of the day. I hated having
to stop at my locker, even though I could easily get in it. I hated to
bother myself with the stupid thing. I walked to my first class.
"BLU!" Someone yelled from behind me. I turned around. "What the Hell do you want?" I spat. "You promised me you'd drop by this Summer." The girl answered. "I have other priorities then you. I'm not a person to mess with. I will never be taken for a little girl again." I said venomously. "Who are you?" The girl asked me, as if she didn't know me. "A bitch." I answered. The girl shook her head in pity. "I'm sorry for whatever happened, but you don't need to act like this." She said, and turned towards her friends.
"Wanna go out with me?" A boy asked as I walked to the back of the classroom. "Back down." I spat. I was in the mood for a good verbal fight with someone. But yet everyone had turned down the invitation that I had given so plainly. The boy scampered off.
"So, what's your name?" A girl with blonde hair, and blue eyes asked me. "None of your damned business." I answered, and stopped walking; hoping for a fight. "It's nice to meet you, None of your damned business. My name's 18 Gero, my father was an idiot." She smiled too sweetly, and spoke with sarcasm. "Blu." I answered her question. 18 nodded. "Who's this?" A boy with gravity defying black hair, and coal black eyes to sport, asked 18. "Who wants to know?" I asked. "Me." The boy answered. "Does Me, have a name?" I asked. "Vegeta Ouji." He answered. "Blu." I said, and took a seat next to 18. "What kind of name is that!?" A girl with raven hair joined the conversation. "What does it matter?" I asked. "Nothing." She shook her head. "Hey Chi." Another boy, with unruly black hair (A/N: Can anyone explain to me, why most of the Z-Gang has black hair?), asked the girl. "Nothin' much." She answered. "Gero, would you be so kind as to tell me who these people are?" I asked. "Chi Chi Mau, and Goku Son. Over there is my brother 17, and you've met Vegeta." 18 answered. "Fine." I sighed.
"CLASS!" The teacher yelled, trying to get everyone to be quiet. "I can't believe they let him teach still." 18 whispered. "Why would I care?" I asked. She gave me a strange look, and sat up straight in her seat. "We have a new student this year, and it's an honor to have her in our class. Blu, please come forward." The teacher said. "Why?" I asked. "Just do it!" The teacher demanded. I rolled my eyes and got out of my chair. I stood at the front of the class. "What now? Am I a target or something?" I rolled my eyes again. I shouldn't have opened my mouth. "Well, now that you mention it. We are going to do a report. We need a person to do an interview on. Class! Take out your notebooks, and start taking notes on what she has to say!" The teacher instructed.
"What did I do to deserve this, Kami?" I thought. "You'll be sorry you asked." I said as I sat down on the side of the teacher's neat desk. "What do you think you're doing?" He asked. "Sitting, what does it look like?" I answered. He shook his head, as someone laughed. I looked around to see who it was. "Son! Shut it!" I yelled at Goku. He stopped, but I could still hear laughing. It was Vegeta. "Ouji, that goes for you too!" I yelled at Vegeta. He stopped laughing. "No one, and I mean no one, tells me what to do little girl." Vegeta said, in a cold voice. "I'm not a little girl, never have been. Never will be." I retorted. "You've always been a little girl, and you still are." He replied. "This is what I want. A good fight with someone." I thought. "Once you've lived my life, come back and tell me I'm a little girl." I said in a low, and dangerous voice. "I can tell you now, you had a dream compared to my life." He replied. "Try me." I challenged. "A father who killed, a mother that never loved, a beating for every wrong word." His voice trailed off. Everyone in the room gasped. "You think you had it hard. Try growing up on the streets, learning every type of fighting known, just to live. Knowing that you were a mistake, never meant to be born. Having a father that tries to kill you, and everyone else in his way. Growing up, hoping that you'd live to see the light of the next day. The way I lived; Kill or be killed." I said with a cold expression. No one said a word.
After some time, a student raised her hand. "What?" I asked, looking her in straight the eyes. "Have you ever killed anyone?" She asked. "Yes. And I'm a damned good crack shot at that." I answered. Gasps could be heard throughout the room. The teacher being one of them. "I told you you'd be sorry." I smirked at the teacher. "RING!" There went the bell. "Class dismissed." The teacher said, as the students started to file out of the classroom. Only six students remained, including me. "Leave!" The teacher demanded. Not one of us moved. "Out." I said coldly to him. "No, this is my classroom." He argued. "Do you value your life?" I asked him with a simple expression. He grabbed his briefcase, stuffed some books and papers into it, and left the classroom.
"BLU!" Someone yelled from behind me. I turned around. "What the Hell do you want?" I spat. "You promised me you'd drop by this Summer." The girl answered. "I have other priorities then you. I'm not a person to mess with. I will never be taken for a little girl again." I said venomously. "Who are you?" The girl asked me, as if she didn't know me. "A bitch." I answered. The girl shook her head in pity. "I'm sorry for whatever happened, but you don't need to act like this." She said, and turned towards her friends.
"Wanna go out with me?" A boy asked as I walked to the back of the classroom. "Back down." I spat. I was in the mood for a good verbal fight with someone. But yet everyone had turned down the invitation that I had given so plainly. The boy scampered off.
"So, what's your name?" A girl with blonde hair, and blue eyes asked me. "None of your damned business." I answered, and stopped walking; hoping for a fight. "It's nice to meet you, None of your damned business. My name's 18 Gero, my father was an idiot." She smiled too sweetly, and spoke with sarcasm. "Blu." I answered her question. 18 nodded. "Who's this?" A boy with gravity defying black hair, and coal black eyes to sport, asked 18. "Who wants to know?" I asked. "Me." The boy answered. "Does Me, have a name?" I asked. "Vegeta Ouji." He answered. "Blu." I said, and took a seat next to 18. "What kind of name is that!?" A girl with raven hair joined the conversation. "What does it matter?" I asked. "Nothing." She shook her head. "Hey Chi." Another boy, with unruly black hair (A/N: Can anyone explain to me, why most of the Z-Gang has black hair?), asked the girl. "Nothin' much." She answered. "Gero, would you be so kind as to tell me who these people are?" I asked. "Chi Chi Mau, and Goku Son. Over there is my brother 17, and you've met Vegeta." 18 answered. "Fine." I sighed.
"CLASS!" The teacher yelled, trying to get everyone to be quiet. "I can't believe they let him teach still." 18 whispered. "Why would I care?" I asked. She gave me a strange look, and sat up straight in her seat. "We have a new student this year, and it's an honor to have her in our class. Blu, please come forward." The teacher said. "Why?" I asked. "Just do it!" The teacher demanded. I rolled my eyes and got out of my chair. I stood at the front of the class. "What now? Am I a target or something?" I rolled my eyes again. I shouldn't have opened my mouth. "Well, now that you mention it. We are going to do a report. We need a person to do an interview on. Class! Take out your notebooks, and start taking notes on what she has to say!" The teacher instructed.
"What did I do to deserve this, Kami?" I thought. "You'll be sorry you asked." I said as I sat down on the side of the teacher's neat desk. "What do you think you're doing?" He asked. "Sitting, what does it look like?" I answered. He shook his head, as someone laughed. I looked around to see who it was. "Son! Shut it!" I yelled at Goku. He stopped, but I could still hear laughing. It was Vegeta. "Ouji, that goes for you too!" I yelled at Vegeta. He stopped laughing. "No one, and I mean no one, tells me what to do little girl." Vegeta said, in a cold voice. "I'm not a little girl, never have been. Never will be." I retorted. "You've always been a little girl, and you still are." He replied. "This is what I want. A good fight with someone." I thought. "Once you've lived my life, come back and tell me I'm a little girl." I said in a low, and dangerous voice. "I can tell you now, you had a dream compared to my life." He replied. "Try me." I challenged. "A father who killed, a mother that never loved, a beating for every wrong word." His voice trailed off. Everyone in the room gasped. "You think you had it hard. Try growing up on the streets, learning every type of fighting known, just to live. Knowing that you were a mistake, never meant to be born. Having a father that tries to kill you, and everyone else in his way. Growing up, hoping that you'd live to see the light of the next day. The way I lived; Kill or be killed." I said with a cold expression. No one said a word.
After some time, a student raised her hand. "What?" I asked, looking her in straight the eyes. "Have you ever killed anyone?" She asked. "Yes. And I'm a damned good crack shot at that." I answered. Gasps could be heard throughout the room. The teacher being one of them. "I told you you'd be sorry." I smirked at the teacher. "RING!" There went the bell. "Class dismissed." The teacher said, as the students started to file out of the classroom. Only six students remained, including me. "Leave!" The teacher demanded. Not one of us moved. "Out." I said coldly to him. "No, this is my classroom." He argued. "Do you value your life?" I asked him with a simple expression. He grabbed his briefcase, stuffed some books and papers into it, and left the classroom.