Chapter 30- Thank Ya
Goku yawned in his seat in the back of the classroom. His attention rested solely on the clock as he waited for the bell to ring. He was never any good in history, mostly due to the fact that he found it absolutely boring.
Most people didn't take a history class their senior year because only three courses of it were required to graduate. He'd failed this class the year before, which was the reason he was there. The way things were going, it looked like he'd fail it again.
He'd long ago lost interest in the teacher's droning. Because this was the last class he took before he went to lunch, his difficulty in paying attention was multiplied tenfold, and the fact that he was dead tired wasn't helping the issue.
The football team had upped the practice schedule with a renewed vigor of getting into the playoffs. They'd stayed late at football practice, running laps and lifting weights, and immediately after that, he'd gone home, taken a shower, and headed over to ChiChi's house for some help with his homework.
Mr. Kozaku had announced Monday morning that the students would be required to wear uniforms the following Monday. Goku had intended to get one after practice, but had forgotten, only to remember when he'd gotten home again at 11 o'clock. He'd definitely have to go get one sometime during the week; they'd probably be sold out by the weekend.
He also wanted to see Vegeta and check up on how he was doing, but he doubted, with his tight schedule, that he'd ever get around to it.
Goku snapped out of his musings and bolted out of his chair when he heard the bell. He was usually one of the first people to exit the class, meaning that he was out before the bell stopped ringing. Like usual, he didn't take the time to listen for the homework assignment. He'd ask someone later.
Right now, he had to get to the courtyard and place his lunch order.
As Goku approached the group in their usual spot, ChiChi spotted him and immediately rushed over. "Goku, can you go get lunch today?" She pleaded.
"Uh. But isn't it Yamcha's turn?" Goku asked.
Not missing the glare that Bulma sent him, he turned to ChiChi questioningly.
"I'll tell you later." ChiChi said, pulling him away from everyone and placed a paper and a small stack of money in his hand. "Please. Could you?"
"Um. Sure." Goku then smiled at everyone and headed to his truck.
ChiChi watched as he left, and then sat down beside Bulma. "You know, he doesn't know about you and..." ChiChi stopped when she noticed Bulma scowling at her and decided to change the subject. "So...uh...how's Vegeta?"
"He's fine." Bulma said, her mood brightening a little. "He's staying in the house, now, or at least he should be. I think they're moving him today."
"When's he coming back to school?"
"I don't know. I'm tutoring him until he does."
"Really?" ChiChi asked, and idea forming. "I'm helping Goku, too. We ought to get together and have a study group."
"That's a great idea Chi! How's tonight sound?"
"Fine with me." ChiChi said and then turned to Krilling and Juuachi. "What about you two?"
"I don't see why not."
"Sounds cool."
Vegeta looked away from the boxing match he was watching as Mrs. Briefs entered the room. After having been checked and tested and checked again, he had been relocated to his new room. This one was much better. He had his own bathroom, a TV, a radio, and even a balcony. Mr. Briefs had even promised to bring him a Playstation as soon as he could locate one. These people obviously had money.
"Hello dear." Mrs. Briefs greeted and then deposited a tailor bag on the foot of his bed.
Vegeta, with uncharacteristic politeness, muted the TV, although he wondered if he would regret doing so.
She smiled at him as she unzipped the bag. "Bulma told me yesterday that she would need a uniform, and then I figured that you would need one too, being that you went to the same school. I went to town today and while I was shopping, I thought, 'wouldn't it be a great surprise if I bought their uniforms today?' So I did."
Vegeta stared at the woman, less than enthused, and didn't say anyting.
"Isn't it adorable!" She squealed holding up the uniform she had bought. Blue slacks, a white dress shirt, a maroon tie, and a black dress jacket with Union High's insignia on the left were proudly presented.
Vegeta froze, horrified, in his position sitting against the headboard. He'd known they would have to wear uniforms, he'd probably been the first one told, but he didn't think they'd be this...this...he couldn't begin to explain it.
"I only bought one, because I didn't know if it would fit. After you try it on, I'll go get a few more."
Vegeta stared at her as she started pulling the jacket off the hanger. "You mean now?" He asked sceptically.
"Of course dear. Oh I can't wait to see it on you."
Vegeta reluctantly and rather painfully drug himself off the bed and picked up the shirt. Seeing no reason to undress, he put it on and over the shirt he was wearing and buttoned it up. He did the same thing with the pants and then the jacket, although he left it unbuttoned. He looped the belt and fastened it and then grabbed the tie. Having never worn one, he had no idea how to put it on. He examined it thoroughly, even flipping it over as though there might be directions on the other side. Finally, he gave up and looked to Mrs. Briefs.
Still smiling, she took the tie from him, skillfully tied it and then backed up to get a better view.
"Oh!" She squealed causing Vegeta to grimace as he was buttoning his jacket. "You are as cute as a button! Walk around a bit. Turn."
Vegeta did as he was told although rather stiffly. "The pants are too loose. And so's the belt."
Mrs. Briefs came over and started tugging on the waist of his pants as if to validate his claim.
"Well they are a bit loose, but you'll just have to eat a little bit. That ought to make them fit right."
The man known as Rehtaf had come to the conclusion that staying in West City would be too dangerous for him. Police seemed to be prowling the city-- looking for him probably. These people obviously did not grasp the magnitude of what he was trying to accomplish. They saw what he was doing as something bad. But they'd come to their senses sooner or later.
Until they did, however, Rehtaf would keep his distance.
Rehtaf tossed the used cigarette stub onto the floor of his car, stubbed it out, and immediately lit another one. There was no doubt in his mind that that loser, what's his name, had sold him out. As such, he hadn't even tried to get a hotel room, but instead had driven forty miles out of the city where he was sure no one would find him--amazing how such a huge city was in the middle of nowhere.
He'd been sitting there for five hours already and had no intention of leaving any time soon. Hardly listening to the radio, he fiddled with his gun, loading and unloading, tossing and catching bullets. It was starting to get dark and, being that he was in the middle of a desert, cold.
He pressed the button for the heater to come on, but nothing happened. Grumbling about everything being broken, he gave the heater a pew punches and one kick. He stared at it for a few minutes to see if anything would come of his gentle coaxing. When nothing did, he turned around and started to rummage through his back seat for something to keep him warm. After a while of sifting through coke cans, food wrappers and who knew what else, he climbed into the back seat, opened the door, and started tossing everything that he considered garbage onto the road.
Finally, he found a jacket. He'd unearthed an unopened whisky too. His mood a little better, he got out of the car, and kicking all of the trash out of the way, slammed the door. He pulled his jacket on and leaned against the car. He was trying to decide whether to open the whiskey now or leave it out and let it cool off when he noticed some headlights in the distance.
He didn't think it would be any cops. They were heading to the city, not away from it. It never hurt to be cautious though.
Opening the front car door, he gently put his whiskey in the passenger's seat, and picked up his gun. After checking to make sure it was loaded, he put it into his jacket pocket and leaned back against the car and waited for whoever was coming.
After a few minutes, he saw that it was nothing but a delivery truck.
"Hey, buddy." The man in the truck called as he slowed to a stop. "Ya havin' car troubles?"
Rehtaf just shrugged.
"Well I'd like ta help ya, but 'm tryin' ta get this stuff to town a'fore sunset."
"I don't guess you're going to make it."
"P'rhaps not. But 'm gonna try any'ay."
Rehtaf didn't respond.
The man sighed. "Well look. 'M a purty nice guy, but I can't do nothin' much. What I can do, though, is call in f'r a truck ta come pick y'up. I'll tell
em wher' yer at 'n stuff. Wha's yer name, bud?" The man had already pulled out a his radio and was about to talk when Rehtaf stopped him.
The truck driver just looked at him suspiciously, but put the radio back on the clip.
Rehtaf slowly pulled the gun out of his pocket, making sure it was out of sight.
"Well." The driver said. "Liken I told ya, I gotta make this here delivery, so I'll just be right on my way."
Rehtaf knew that he'd better decide quick if he was going to kill this man or not. On one hand the driver might not suspect a thing. On the other hand, he did, and he would report it the second he drove off.
"Well I wish ya the best a luck mister." The man reached over to put the truck in drive and then turned back with a friendly wave but froze.
He didn't even have time to scream as his brains were splattered over the inside of the truck.
Rehtaf stepped back and returned the gun to his pocket. He looked around to make that no one was near to witness what had just happened. All clear. He turned and headed back to his car, idly flicking some yellow slimey stuff off of his shoulder.
He didn't bother to hide the truck or even turn the engine off. This could work to his advantage it he moved quick enough.
Easing back into his car, he revved the engine and drove off down the road.
ChiChi and Goku were in Goku's truck. After practice ended, Goku had gone home, taken a shower, and then went to pick ChiChi up to head to their study group.
"So...what was wrong with Bulma today at lunch?" Goku asked looking over to ChiChi for a second before setting his eyes back on the road.
"She broke up with Yamcha yesterday."
Goku waited a few seconds for the rest of the story, but it didn't come. "And...that's it?"
"Is that it? They've been going out since grade school and she caught him yesterday all over some other girl! That's a big thing Goku. You could be a little more simpathetic."
"Well I...Uh...Sorry ChiChi."
ChiChi studied his dejected profile for a moment. "It's alright."
Vegeta hadn't exactly understood the idea of the 'study group.' From the name, he had guessed that they might study, but Bulma had had a different idea. She'd insisted that they get all their homework done before eight, when everyone would arrive. When he'd asked why, she just shrugged, smiled, and told him to keep working.
Now, he figured that he was starting to understand what was going on, even if he didn't understand why they called it 'studying.'
"Pass the popcorn Krillin." Goku said from his place on the foot of the bed.
Krillin slid the bowl closer to Goku, though he still kept it within reach, making sure not to upset the card game. "We're almost out. Someone's going to have to go make some more." They both looked away from their card game toward the three girls who were sitting on the floor gossiping over magazines.
ChiChi had probably been the only one who had come to the group with the hope of studying, but since she had already done her homework, she hadn't minded the change in her plans all that much. She had made Goku finish his work before joining in the fun, however.
"What are you looking at us for?" Bulma snapped noticing their staring.
"We need some popcorn." Goku said.
"And it's your house." Krillin added.
"Goku knows where the kitchen is." Bulma said and then turned back to her conversation.
"Ah well." Goku said as he pushed himself off the bed. "You guys want anything else." He looked to Krillin who shook his head and then to Vegeta. "Geta?"
"Vegeta can't eat solid food." Bulma piped in before he could respond.
Vegeta sat silently like he had for most of the night. He hardly knew most of these people and the music was giving him a headache. It beat being bored though, so he tried to make the best of it.
"Oh yeah." Goku said putting a hand behind his head. "I forgot."
As Goku scurried out of the room, Bulma stole a glance at Vegeta. She didn't miss how tired he looked, but she figured he always looked tired.
"Bulma." ChiChi said pointing to a picture in a magazine. "How about him? 1 to 10."
Bulma pushed away all her worries and turned back to ChiChi with a smile. "Uh. He's a 10."
Chichi stole a glance over to Vegeta and then looked back to Bulma. She had noticed how Bulma had been looking at him. An idea suddenly came to her—one that would be a perfect way to get Bulma's mind off the whole Yamcha thing. She'd tell Juuachi about it later.