"Ok," Chichi said, her voice tight. "Let's go."
Bulma watched her ride out of the arena, and then began working Red, trying to get him warmed up. The gelding always took some time to loosen up; the lunging earlier had helped but the Thoroughbred was always tense. Finally, though, she felt him bend him neck and arch his back, coming into full contact with her. She settled the gelding into an easy walk.
Chichi was next to the fence of the ring, waving to Bulma. Bulma waved back and trotted Red over, calling out, "How'd it go?"
Chichi made a face. "It was alright," she sighed. "I screwed up the third lead change on the B, and Priss was two steps late picking up the half-pass."
"Only two penalties?" Bulma said, punching her friend on the arm. "That's only a penalty of four points! Your final score must be great!"
"These were the mistakes that the judge didn't notice," Chichi said, wincing slightly.
"Eh, right," Bulma muttered. "So what was the final score?"
Chichi told her. Bulma made a conciliatory face and said, "That's not that bad. Priss can make up the difference tomorrow on the cross-country course."
Chichi frowned and said, "Bulma, what am I doing here? This is the cream of the cream; what am I doing here?"
"You're here to do your best and go to the Prix," Bulma answered, making her voice firm. "Even if you don't win, it is still an honor to score high enough to go to the Prix, which you will do. You belong here, Chichi; if you didn't, I wouldn't have advised you to spend all this money and time to come."
"You're right, Bulma," Chichi sighed. "It was just really discouraging."
"Dressage is not Priss's strong point," Bulma said. "Very few eventing horses are as good at it as they are the jumps, and Priss is still better than most. So she's going to rock tomorrow." The loudspeakers blared again, and Bulma heard Vegeta's name. She turned her head to the side and saw him ride confidently out of the ring. Does he ever look frazzled? she thought irritably.
"Bulma?" she heard Chichi say. "Are you listening to me?"
Bulma turned back to her friend. "Of course!" Bulma gulped.
"You were not!" Chichi said, breaking into a grin. "You were checking out Vegeta Saiyan!"
"Oh, my god," Bulma said, rolling her eyes and praying that she was imagining the blush running up her cheeks. "Don't be twelve. It's Vegeta Saiyan."
"What about him?" Goku said as he came to a halt near them. "Just let me know what he's done and I'll apologize."
"He hasn't done anything," Chichi giggled. "Bulma was totally digging him."
"My brother, Vegeta?" Goku blinked in surprise. He turned to Bulma. "Do you like him?"
"No!" Bulma said and she nearly winced at the defensive tone in her voice. "I'm officially downgrading this conversation from a twelve-year-old level to a nine-year-old level. 'Like him?' You two do realize that you are the only ones your age still using those terms, don't you?"
"Look at her turn red," Chichi laughed gleefully.
"Don't laugh," Goku said, his voice solemn. "Vegeta could use someone special."
"'Someone special' is the term you use for a disabled adult's nurse," Bulma coldly pointed out.
"Vegeta is disabled," Goku said, "just not physically."
His serious expression had wiped all the glee from Chichi's face. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"He means that Vegeta is as emotionally mature as a vegetable," Bulma sighed, "in large part due to your father and his asinine assumptions and restrictions."
Chichi was frowning in confusion, but Goku asked, "What would you know about that?"
Bulma shrugged. "Vegeta's told me enough; about how your father has that crazy dating restriction," she said dismissively.
Goku gaped openly at her. "Vegeta told you that?" he gasped after a moment.
Bulma glanced at him with a pointed expression. "We were talking about you and Chichi," she said.
"Still," Goku said, "he doesn't even talk to other people, much less talk about such personal things."
"Oh my god!" Chichi laughed. "You know what this means, don't you? Vegeta likes you back."
"Leave off with the he likes, she likes crap, Chichi!" Bulma snapped. "It's immature."
"You would prefer the term love?" Chichi said, her tone teasing.
"No, no, god, no," Bulma moaned, burying her face in her hand. "Look, can we just drop this?" As if the fates agreed with her, the loudspeaker called her name. "I have to go!"
"Good luck!" Chichi cried and Goku echoed her with an added thumbs up. Bulma rode out of the ring, turning her mind to the upcoming test. Thanks to Chichi and Goku, she was so distracted by the whole Vegeta conversation that her nerves hadn't had time to eat at her; now they came back with a vengeance, gnawing at her gut.
Bulma trotted to the waiting area; to her surprise, Vegeta was still there. He seemed to be waiting for something, though he was watching the current competitor, and Bulma wondered briefly if he was waiting for her. She shoved the thought away almost immediately – it was ludicrous.
She stopped at the gate to the arena. The current competitor was in the dressage arena right now, a tall fellow on a tall bay horse. After a moment, Bulma recalled his name: Mitch Pastors, riding Flashback. Bulma watched him closely, trying to see if she could spot any clues about the arena that would help her. The arena looked normal enough: a six inch high white barrier marked the edge of the arena. Placards with various letters sat at intervals around the arena, marking where changes in the pattern would occur. Everything looked fine and Bulma didn't see that Flashback was having any problems with footing.
"Do your best." Bulma actually jumped when Vegeta spoke; she had been so focused on watching the competitor in the arena that she had almost forgotten he was there. She glanced at him, startled. He was watching the competitor as well; when she started to say something, he cut her off, "You will give me your best performance, so that I know I have earned my victory over you."
"You mean when I beat you," Bulma snapped. "Don't count your victory before the events are done."
Vegeta snorted. He didn't say anything – he didn't have time. Pastors and Flashback rode out of the arena. As he passed Bulma, Pastors gave her a nod of respect. Bulma smiled and returned it, feeling warm with the shared camaraderie of competitors.
The warm fuzzy faded as she realized that it was her turn. She gathered up the reins and straightened in the saddle, ignoring the flare of panic as the butterflies began fluttering in her stomach. She rode the entrance of the arena and waited for the judge to signal to her.
The judge was writing something down; as Bulma watched her, the judge passed the paper to a waiting official. The official carried the card to the scorekeeper, who read the results over the loudspeaker. Bulma noted with a frown that they were better than Chichi's. A polite applause rose up in the small watching crowd; dressage never drew a lot of spectators. There would be a bigger audience tomorrow at the cross country course.
The judge waited until the applause died down, then she reached over and rang her bell. As Bulma tightened her legs around Red and urged him into the arena, the official on the loudspeaker announced her and Red. Bulma rode out to the center of the arena along the back fence, then turned sharply to ride toward the judge. When she was finally in the dead center of the arena, she signaled for Red to perform two half-halts so that he came to a square stop. As he stopped, she moved her reins to one hand and saluted the judge, making each movement sharp. She held her position until the judge acknowledged the salute and Bulma began the test.
It was grueling. The judge rang the bell whenever she saw Bulma make a mistake. Bulma jumped every time that crystal ring rang out. Her back was drenched with sweat by the time she performed the final salute. With knots in her stomach, Bulma rode out and waited to hear the score. Vegeta was not waiting for her, and Bulma felt a vague sense of disappointment. She ignored it as hard as she could.
When the loudspeaker finally announced her score, Bulma groaned. It was what her mother would describe as a 'good foundation.' It meant that she wasn't going to have much room for mistakes tomorrow and the next day. With a heavy heart, she rode toward the barn.
Chichi came running up to greet her. "How did you do?" she gasped as Bulma swung out of the saddle.
Bulma told her, and Chichi smiled ruefully. "It's better than my score," the black-haired woman said with a touch of sadness. "Usually, Red's so uptight that he has problems being flexible enough in the dressage."
"Yeah, I know," Bulma said, pulling Red's saddle off. "Red was doing better than normal." Seeing the glum look on Chichi's face, Bulma added, "He did fine – I screwed up by missing a lead change. Twice. And the judge saw both of them. And that's just part of it."
"Goku is up in about ten minutes," Chichi sighed as she began to help Bulma put Red back in his stall. "I hope he does better."