Chapter Three: Stupid
She was used to the whispers by now.
It didn't matter.
Who cared what these people thought?
They knew, they had it in their minds, they just didn't care to think of that possibility.
They were just stupid, that was all.
'Stupid.'
The rumors had started right after her mother had died - at first, it was her grades.
"She was such a good student," the teachers would say, a sad look on their faces. "I wonder what's gotten into her."
'You know whats wrong with me,' Pan would think whenever they would say something like that. 'What are you, brain-dead?'
After the grades, it was her appearance. She would come to school wearing the same clothes for days at a time. Her usual dark colored nail polish (usually blue, green, brown, or black) would begin to chip, and she would never bother to fix it. What was the point?
"I think she's anorexic," came a whisper from a blonde that Pan had never liked. She was at the head of all the rumors. "She's lost a lot of weight..."
The only thing was, it was the truth - since she'd found out about her mother, she scarcely ever ate, not really having an appetite.
She wanted her mother's cooking back.
Other students, though, would try and defend her.
"She's not anorexic," her friend Tina would say. "Her mom's just died. It's been all over the news, haven't you seen it? She's depressed. Fuck off."
Pan apprecited the gesture; she just didn't show it too well. She tried to stay away from anyone she used to know. She just didn't want to talk about it. All they would do was force her to deal with it, force her to feel bad, force her to cry.
The whispers stopped as soon as the math teacher, Mrs. Hitachi, walked into the room.
"Hello, children!" said the white-haired woman, smiling.
Her expression suddenly turned tragic as she loooked up to see Pan sitting at her desk, staring down at her math book.
"Miss Son," she said, her voice annoyingly full of sympathy, "are you alright?"
Pan didn't respond to the question, only sat and playing with her thumbs.
"Miss Son?"
Pan looked up suddenly and then looked back down at her book, nodding quickly.
"Oh, that's good,"said Mirs. Hitachi, smiling sadly.
It was suddenly as if everyone had expected her to go back to her normal life as if nothing had happened.
It was ridiculous.
Pan trugged slowly into the house, staring down at the floor. Throwing her book-bag carelessly onto the table, she cringed as the sound of breaking glass met her ears. She hadn't even been aware of the glass cup that had been the target of the flying bag.
Frowning deeply, she walked around the table and began picking the broken glass up, her face blank. She frowned even more deeply this time as a tiny sliver of glass slipped into her palm. She slowly lifted her hand and looked at her palm, where a large amount of blood had already managed to escape around the glass.
Letting out a quiet, uncaring "hmph", she lifted the rest of the large pieces of glass and dumped them into the trash can, then grabbed the broom and dust-pan to retrieve the smaller pieces, barely noticing the numbing pain in her right palm.
She knelt down and began sweeping the glass into the dust-pan when the phone suddenly began rining. Pan reacted slowly, looking up at the phone where it hung on the wall beside the kitchen door.
Ignoring the loud 'BRIIIINNNNNGGGG!" of the phone, Pan swallowed and walked over to the trash can and tipped the dustpan over, watching the glass as it fell into the black, plastic bag like a crystalized waterfall.
Finally the phone stopped ringing, much to Pan's relief - She didn't feel like talking to anyone.
Walking over to the kitchen door, she stopped before the phone and pressed the down button on the Caller ID.
Capsule Corps. Off - x.7450
'Capsule Corporation Office Building,' thought Pan, blinking. The extension was 7450.
It had been her father calling.
Blinking and pressing the delete button, she turned and headed toward the stairs, up to her bedroom, her sanctuary.
Slamming the door behind her, she walked around her bed and walked into the closet, turning and closing the creaky door behind her. She walked to the very back of the large closet, where a red bean-bag chair was awaiting her.
Dropping herself heavily into the chair, she sighed and closed her eyes.
She cherished the silence and the darkness of the closet... at least there weren't stupid, stupid people around to judge her and make her fell worse.
'Stupid.'
She sat in the silence of the dark closet, contemplating all realizations recently obtained. She knew somewhere in a deep crevace of her mind that nothing new, nothing useful would come from it, no sudden enlightenment would dawn upon her, but she wanted to think about it.
She always tried to inquire of her own mind a reason, a motivation for this proclivity to create such a darkness inward of herself, but the mystery remained, as some occult part of her being that wished not to be opened to thought.
It seemed that the very new subject of her thoughts had become her most recent enemy.
This nemesis, however, was impossible to escape; it was all around her, it permeated the very air she inhaled, it infringed upon everything she did; but even worse, it was the very essence that was giving her the power, the ability, to do these things.
Without it, nothing would be possible.
It was the very epitome of all needs, of what everyone already had, but did not appreciate; what everyone wanted more of, but let waste when they did have it; but, perhaps, this was just cause for its ironicness, for the mocking nature of which it held.
"I am here, but you do not appreciate me. I can leave at any moment, yet you regret when I do. Some want me to leave, force me to, for they find me too harsh to bear; while others grasp what I give them, what I give them the power to do, trying to fulfill me, so that when I do leave them, they are glad that they did not let me waste.
"At times I am formidable, forcing those who don't appreciate me to face what is real; while those who do appreciate me are happy to have me, welcome to have more of me. But I am not formidable at all - for I let those who have me do as they wish with me, whether they appreciate me or not, under the one condition that I am with them once and only once."
It was her nemesis that spoke these words to her, to all, though some didn't hear it as clearly as others, though this nemesis had no lips to speak; it was comlpetely amorphous, had no shape, no color, no sound, it held no quality comprehensible to the senses; and yet, it was everywhere, for all to see, hear, taste, feel, and smell, everywhere she went, even her dreams.
Pan lifted her palm and began picking at the piece of glass, which now only barely surfaced above skin beneath the now drying blood.
She frowned as the glass slipped even further in; now it was hopeless to get it out manually.
Sighing, she got up as the phone began ringing again.
Opening the closet door, she walked out and dropped herself onto her bed, staring at the Caller ID.
It was her father again.
Frowning as she stared at her bloody palm, she picked up and brought the phone to her ear, not even bothering to say "Hello."
"...Pan?"
"What?"
Gohan sighed. She was still upset with him.
"...Bulma invited us over to her house tonight. Do you want to go?"
"Fine."
Gohan sighed again.
"Alright. I'll be home to pick you up in about two hours."
Silence.
"Goodbye, sweetie."
Gohan closed his eyes as she hung up, completely silent.
Alright, this had to be the suckiest chapter in the history of chapters. But please review and tell me what u think! Just a note, though - A lot of people forget the true element of anime, which is that it is so weird. Yes, the story will be realistic, but at the same time, DBZ - as in, there'll be talking animals, people with rainbow-colored hair, and gophers wearing sunglasses. I'll try to come out w/ the next chapter ASAP. Ciao! XOXO