First Day
Vegeta was not in a good mood. The sunny morning in late August did nothing to cheer him up. Angrier than usual, the Briefs – Bulma included – knew better than to test his temper. They ate their breakfast quietly. It was as if they were listening for a ticking time bomb that would go off any second. The tension was palpable in the air. Vegeta knew he was the cause of it. He might have felt guilt had he not been so thoroughly furious with his pack.
The kitchen of Capsule Corporation was filled with the sounds of silverware clattering against plates and bowls. Mrs. Brief and Dr. Brief continually exchanged glances as if second-guessing their decision. Bulma, though silent, was secretly overjoyed about the situation that had Vegeta so upset. She had expected him to be mad for a while, but she had no doubt he would get over it soon enough. She wanted to tell him so, but she kept her peace. There was no sense further upsetting him before the day got started.
When he was finished eating, Vegeta stormed out of the kitchen and went upstairs to his new room to finish getting ready. He didn't have a clue about what to expect. All he knew was that he didn't want to do it. He knew he could get out of it if he tried hard enough, but that would require using methods he wasn't willing to utilize against the Briefs. The only consolation he had was that he wouldn't have to endure it for more than a few months.
He almost laughed at his reflection in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. He was pathetic to give in to the whims of humans because he allowed himself to become attached to them. He hated humans, yet here he was acting like one. How embarrassing. What could he possibly gain through this? Nothing. It was nothing more than a new low that made his pride ache. He spat out the frothy toothpaste and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, casting his reflection a cold glare. He hated himself for being so weak. With a half-hearted, one-shoulder shrug he walked out of his bathroom and grabbed his plain navy blue backpack from his desk. Just another reminder of his defeat. His dark mood certainly wasn't a sudden thing. It had been building over the past week after going through another long shopping trip, countless arguments with the elder Briefs, and "pep talks" from Bulma. And today was the day it all culminated in his ultimate humiliation.
Today was the first day of school.
He dragged his backpack behind him as he exited his room and went downstairs where Bulma was waiting for him at the door. It was hard to miss the traces of amusement showing themselves at the corners of her lips. She was trying her best to keep herself from grinning, but it wasn't enough to fool him. He snarled at her as he pushed past her and went outside. He had no doubt that she was part of the driving force behind the decision to send him to school even though he proved himself more than smart enough for a feeble human education. He picked up languages faster than he could be taught and he knew math and science like the back of his hand. There really wasn't much more for him to learn in middle school, but then Bulma already knew it all too. Really, it was pointless for either of them to go, but for some messed up reason the Briefs thought it was necessary for all kids to get a formal education only the public education system could provide. That was laughable. He couldn't believe they were really going to make him do this. He, the Prince of all Saiyans, attending an earthling middle school! It was beyond absurd. He should be fighting battles, not sitting in a classroom with human brats.
As he passed Bulma on the way out the door she could feel heat radiating from his body. He gave the term 'fuming' new meaning when he was extremely angry. After listening to his explanation of ki, she understood why his body could feel hot enough to burn. It was still hard to believe, but she had no reason to doubt him. It wasn't as if he would make something like that up. She sighed and followed him out of the compound. If possible, she would stay with him for the first part of the day and maybe give him a tour of the school. He wasn't likely to be civil to anyone and she didn't want him getting in trouble too soon.
She caught up to him as he stalked across the yard and had to practically jog to keep up with him. She stayed at his side and kept a watch on him from the corner of her eye. She could see that his tail was wrapped tightly around his waist so it appeared to be a belt. She was thankful for that. He would be made fun of mercilessly if the other kids knew he had a tail. She nearly stopped in her tracks when she remembered he would have to change clothes in the locker room for gym class. Well, there was nothing she could do about it.
His tail was very tight around his waist, but the tip was flicking angrily. He wanted to lob someone's head off. He tried shaking that thought from his mind, but it was persistent. He was well aware of the girl watching him and that only made him angrier. Did she think he was going to enjoy himself? If she did, she was more idiotic than he gave her credit for. He placed partial blame on her for his fate. No doubt she persuaded her parents to make him go to school on the pointless basis that she had to go without needing it.
'This is stupid. I don't need some pathetic human education. I know more than they could ever teach me and nothing they'll teach will ever be useful. I shouldn't have to do this. I don't care if she has to suffer through this. I don't need it. All I need is to get off this damn planet.'
Bulma wasn't a mind reader, but she had a good idea about what Vegeta was thinking. They turned the corner where she first asked him to come stay at Capsule Corporation. Neither of them had said a word since before breakfast. The silence was killing her. She needed to say something.
"I know it's dumb you have to go to school. Heck, it's dumb that I do." She waited for some kind of response, but all she got was more silence with a slightly curled lip that revealed a sharp canine sticking out below it. She sighed and tried again. "It's not much fun, but there's worse things to do, I guess. At least it'll give you something to do. Wouldn't you get bored when I'm not home?"
"No."
Bulma huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulders. "What would you do?"
Vegeta didn't answer right away. What would he do? He had to admit he had spent the majority of his days with her over the summer – willingly or not. They went swimming, they watched TV and movies, they played games, and they sometimes went to the park after she got over her nightmares. So what would he do without her forcing him into participating in human amusements?
"Train."
"All day?"
"Hn."
She looked at him incredulously and shook her head. She knew training was one of the few activities he actually did voluntarily, but still. For hours on end? "You're unbelievable."
Vegeta didn't grace that comment with a reply. The school was now in view and it made him angrier than ever. Each step closer was a step deeper in his humiliation. He could see dozens of brats making their way to the school, either walking or being deposited by cars and buses. There were clusters of brats congregating in front of the school, which made him wonder how many more were crammed inside. His muscles tensed as he prepared for immersion in sensory overload.
"Here we are," Bulma grumbled more to herself than her brooding companion.
The blue-haired girl and the flame-haired boy went into the school and headed for the gymnasium for the first day of school assembly. They sat in the first row of the bleachers, more from a lack of caring about anything than a desire for good seats. Bulma hated the tradition of 'welcoming' the students as if they had something to be excited about.
"Hey freak, move."
Bulma looked up when she saw a pair of shoes standing in front of her. When she saw who had so rudely addressed her she rolled her eyes. There stood the new captain of the basketball team and his posse. Since the eighth graders of yesteryear had gone on to high school it was time for the next middle school student oligarchy to rise to dominance.
"Should've gotten here sooner, moron," Bulma retorted.
"Excuse me?"
"I know you're not deaf. Find a seat somewhere else."
The jocks were hardly willing to admit defeat, but with so many teachers around there wasn't much they could do to force Bulma out of her seat. They left, faking seeing another group of friends with better seats to go join.
"Idiots," she muttered. She pulled a yellow envelope out of her backpack and tore it open. "Hey, Veggie, do you have your schedule?"
"Hn."
"Can I see it?"
Vegeta pulled an identical envelope out of his backpack and shoved it into her outstretched hand. He hadn't opened it yet, not caring what classes he had. Their schedules had been mailed to them a couple days ago. Bulma already knew what classes she had, but she wanted to see how they lined up with Vegeta's.
"Hey, we have algebra and science together. And gym. Oh, good, we have the same lunch too."
"Hn."
"You could be more excited about it. It wouldn't kill you."
Vegeta sneered and crossed his arms over his chest. He could have all or none of his classes with Bulma. It didn't matter to him. It was a waste of time either way.
A few minutes passed and the last stragglers entered the gym for the start of the assembly. Bulma rested her elbows on her knees and held her chin in her hands. She was hoping it wouldn't be a long-winded speech about the importance of education or some nonsense like that.
She, along with the majority of the student body, groaned when the principal opened her speech with a lame pun. Vegeta closed his eyes, deciding he wasn't going to miss anything if he meditated through it. If he couldn't train physically, he could at least train his mind. He ignored Bulma nudging him with her elbow and sank into his meditative trance.
'Great,' Bulma thought, 'now I can't even talk to him through this.' She wrote herself a mental note to ask Vegeta to teach her how to meditate later. It looked like it could be useful at times. For the time being, though, she had to suffer through the principal's welcome speech alone.
"Vegeta, come on," Bulma said once they were dismissed to go to class. "It's time to go to algebra."
Vegeta opened his eyes and sighed heavily. "Why bother going? We both know it."
"I know, Veggie," Bulma agreed, "but we get in trouble for cutting class. Let's go."
The saiyan prince threw his backpack over his shoulder and followed Bulma to their first class. The whole way his mind was screaming what a waste of time it was. Bulma led them into a small classroom with three rows of tables. Not many students took algebra before freshman year of high school. Not at West City Middle School.
Bulma sat down in the back row next to the wall and gestured for Vegeta to take a seat next to hers. He slid into the chair and laid his head on the table. He heard more people walking in, talking, and taking seats. The room was going to be full. He groaned as the small room was filled with the scents of humans and the ridiculous amounts of perfume, body spray, cologne, and deodorant they used. Obviously they didn't know what they were doing using such things. He felt like vomiting.
"Hello class," the teacher said when he walked in the room. He started setting up the outdated technology – an overhead projector – and started telling his pupils what to expect from his course. Vegeta and Bulma were less than impressed.
"Mr. Kim is totally boring," Bulma whispered to her alien friend. Vegeta snorted. Everything was going to be boring to him.
"The back row can come up and get your books," Mr. Kim announced. The students sitting in the back formed a line as they went to pick up their textbooks for the class. They signed a paper with their book numbers and returned to their seats so the next row could go up and get their books.
"This stuff is so easy," Bulma commented as she flipped through the pages of her text.
Vegeta glanced at the equations as she turned the pages. It was child's play to him. "Hn."
There was the sound of paper shuffling as the other students opened their notebooks to begin taking notes once the lecture started. "Do you know how to play tic-tac-toe?" Bulma asked Vegeta.
"No."
"It's easy." Bulma opened her own notebook and drew a simple grid with three rows and three columns. "I'll be X and you be O. You draw an O in any open square, then I draw an X. The point is to get three in a row down, across, or diagonal. Ok?"
"Hn."
"Your turn first."
Vegeta drew an O in the bottom right space. Bulma countered with an X in the top right. Vegeta filled in the top left. Bulma put an X in the middle. Vegeta put an O in the bottom left. Bulma put an X in the bottom middle. Vegeta got three in a row down the left side.
Bulma frowned. "You win. This game is too easy. We need something better to do."
"Miss Brief, is there something you'd like to tell the class?" Mr. Kim asked sternly.
"No, sir."
The class snickered when Bulma was reprimanded. They loved seeing her taken down a notch. Maybe she was a genius, but she was still just a freak. A freakish little kid.
Vegeta wondered why the other students laughed. Nothing humorous happened. He could have sworn by Bulma's body language that she was embarrassed, but he didn't understand why she would be. He shrugged it off and looked out the window. The sky was sunny and clear and he was trapped inside. He knew for sure now that there was no justice in the universe.
Bulma drew another tic-tac-toe grid and put an X in the top right. In less than twenty seconds they grid was full with no winner. It annoyed Vegeta that it was possible for neither of them to come out victorious. In any competition there should always be a winner and a loser.
"There will be no homework for tomorrow," Mr. Kim announced when the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Most of the class breathed a sigh of relief, but neither Bulma nor Vegeta cared.
"You have literature next, right?" Bulma asked Vegeta as they left the algebra room.
"Hn."
"Ok. Your classroom will be down that way," she told him, pointing to the right. "My next class is upstairs. Wait for me here and we can go to science together."
Vegeta grunted and started weaving his way through the crowd of adolescents to get to room 305. He passed several doors before he found the right one. He walked into the classroom where most of the seats were already taken.
"What's your name?" asked a tall woman standing at the front of the room. He knew immediately she was a strange human. Her voice was slightly airy, almost as if she were far away mentally. Her glasses, slightly crooked, were large enough to cover more than half of her wrinkled face. Her thin, gray hair was wildly out of control and looked as though it may have been permed several years ago and never since. She was wearing plain white walking shoes, black stockings, and a navy blue dress that was fashioned after a sailor uniform, complete with long pleated skirt and red neckerchief. Any shape her body may have had was hidden under her unflattering apparel. Vegeta assumed she was the teacher.
"Vegeta."
"Last name?"
Vegeta hesitated for a second. He didn't have a last name. "Brief."
"Ah, there you are," she said as she marked his name on her class roster. "Well, Vegeta, you can take a seat wherever you'd like."
The saiyan looked at his options. The back row was full, as were all the seats along the walls. He shrugged and took a seat in the third row on the left side. There was no one on either side of him or in front of him. He liked it that way. Shortly, though, two boys walked in and gave their names before taking the two empty seats to Vegeta's right.
"Who's the runt?" one asked as he glanced over at Vegeta.
"I don't know. Some new kid, I guess. I think I saw him sitting next to that Bulma girl at the assembly."
"Probably a freak then."
Vegeta growled. Even though they were whispering he could hear them clearly. He resented being labeled a freak. Maybe he wasn't human, but he was not a freak. Besides, what did his association with Bulma have to do with anything? He gathered from her short conversation with the group of boys at the assembly that she was not well liked. Perhaps it was more than just those boys who didn't hold her in high esteem. He shrugged. It didn't matter much to him who liked who because frankly, he didn't like anyone. Their opinions meant nothing to him.
"Good morning, young people. My name is Mrs. McGuire and you're in eighth grade literature. Welcome! You're all here so I'll go ahead and let you come to the front and get your books. I'll pass this sign-up sheet around and you can put your book number by your name. Remember you will be fined at the end of the year if I find writing in it."
Slowly, the students made their way to the front of the class to get their books. Vegeta figured it was going to be essentially the same routine in each of his classes. He would have opted not to get a book, but he doubted that would be allowed. So, he grabbed a literature book and went back to his seat. Bored, he opened the book and started reading.
Bulma sat in her computer class wondering how Vegeta was doing on his own. She hadn't heard any explosions, so she assumed he was fine. She frowned at the computer monitor. She was supposed to be typing the paragraph in her book, but she didn't care. She knew how to type without looking at the keyboard already. Most of the students in her class did. It was a waste of time. She sighed and started typing, if only to pass the time until her next class. Taking a computer class was the best option she had as an elective because she wasn't good at art, hated cooking, and didn't want to learn woodworking. If there was a mechanics class in middle school she would have taken it, but that was only offered in high school. Still, she was going to be bored out of her mind if this was all she could expect. Typing. She scoffed. She knew how to build a computer a hundred times better than the one she was using from scratch. There was nothing she could possibly learn from such a class. That was the trouble with being a genius.
The bell rang a moment after Vegeta closed his book. He was finished reading everything in it. Most of the stories were childish and at a reading level far below him. Still, it was entertaining enough to get him through the class without losing his mind. When the bell rang he put the book in his backpack and left the room to go wait for the blue-haired girl.
Bulma shoved her way through the students milling around in the hallways until she reached the room she had algebra in. She saw Vegeta leaning against the lockers by the door and went over to him.
"So how was class?"
He shrugged. There wasn't much to say. He didn't pay attention to the lecture and he read the entire textbook already.
"Same. Let's go, we don't want to be late. Ms Beketov is evil."
Vegeta followed Bulma to the opposite end of the long hallway and went into the last classroom. Seats were arranged with five rows of four tables with two chairs at each. Half the class was already there, so Bulma and Vegeta took their seats at a table near the back of the room. He looked around the room, noticing it was much different than the others he had already been in. There was a long counter near the front that had a sink on one end. The chalkboard was behind it. There was another counter running along the wall on the side opposite the windows with cupboards above and below. There was another series of cabinets built into the back wall that had glass doors to show the contents, including the skeletons of small animals, assorted rocks, and a few fossils. Between the back cabinets was a door that presumably led to a laboratory.
"I'm almost looking forward to this class," Bulma said, leaning over toward Vegeta. "Seventh grade science is all about biology stuff but eighth grade has physics and astronomy and stuff. I probably know it all already, but at least it's more interesting."
The young saiyan grunted his assent. He was no scholar despite his impeccable memory bank, but he did sort of like physics if only because he could apply them both in fighting and traveling. It applied to his life directly, and if anything, Vegeta was a pragmatist. He wanted things to be useful, otherwise he wouldn't waste his time on it. Sometimes his curiosity did lead him to learn about things he would never use, but only when he could spare the time, which wasn't often.
"Good morning, class," Ms. Beketov said. "I think I've had most of you in my classes before. But for those of you who don't know me, I'm Ms. Beketov."
"Fantastic," Vegeta muttered. Bulma giggled until she got a glare from the teacher. She cleared her throat and tried to appear politely attentive.
Again, the students got their textbooks while Ms. Beketov took attendance. Bulma and Vegeta sat down in their seats with their books. Vegeta stared at the cover while Bulma started looking through the text. As expected, it didn't look like she was going to be learning anything new. She closed her book with a disappointed sigh. She pulled her notebook out of her backpack and started writing much too fast for anyone to believe she was taking notes from the board.
"Hey, Veggie," she whispered. When she had his attention she handed him a folded piece of paper. He took it and unfolded it.
This class is going to be so boring! Oh well. Did Mom pack you a lunch? Vegeta wondered why she was communicating through writing. He figured it would be breaking a social norm to speak during class. That had to be the only explanation for everyone being so quiet through each of his classes. It couldn't have been from real interest in the subjects being taught. He took a pencil out of his backpack and wrote a response, then folded the paper and handed it back to Bulma.
Bulma opened the note. Yes. She rolled her eyes at his short reply. Even in writing he didn't have much to say. She wrote again and passed the note to Vegeta.
That's good. I doubt a lunch at the cafeteria would be enough for you. What do you have after this class?
Vegeta replied: History.
With who?
Bonilla.
She's good. Well, not too boring anyway.
Hn.
Seriously? You even write Hn? We only have ten minutes left.
Good.
A student sitting behind Vegeta raised her hand. Ms. Beketov acknowledged her. "Ms. Beketov, Bulma's passing notes."
Ms. Beketov walked over to Bulma's desk and held her hand out for the paper now crumpled in the girl's fist. Bulma groaned as she handed the note to her least favorite teacher. At least neither of them had written anything too bad. Ms. Beketov opened the note and read through it.
"So you think my class is boring?" she asked icily.
Bulma looked up at her teacher defiantly and nodded. She was tired of being intimidated by authority figures. Especially the tyrant science teacher.
"Talk to me after class," Ms. Beketov said as she returned to the front of the room to finish her lecture. When her back was turned Bulma twisted around in her seat and shot the tattletale a cold glare. The girl smiled smugly.
The last few minutes passed slowly for Vegeta and Bulma. When the bell rang, Bulma told Vegeta to wait for her while she went to talk to the teacher. So Vegeta remained sitting in his seat and listened to the conversation between Bulma and Ms. Beketov.
"Bulma, I know you're a very bright girl, but I can't have you always disrupting my class. Are we going to have a repeat of last year?"
"No, Ms. Beketov. I'm sorry." Vegeta didn't think her apology sounded genuine.
"Vegeta is a new student here. I don't want you to make him fall behind."
"He won't."
"He will if you distract him in class. Not everyone knows this material as well as you do."
"He does."
Ms. Beketov sighed in exasperation. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I don't know. I need to show Vegeta where his next class is. Can I go?"
Clearly not happy about the girl's attitude, Ms. Beketov grudgingly gave her permission for Bulma to leave. Bulma gestured for Vegeta to come with her and started down the hall. She stopped a few doors down. "This is Mrs. Bonilla's classroom. What do you have after history?"
"Art."
Bulma's eyebrow raised. "You're taking art?"
Vegeta shrugged. "I didn't choose my classes."
Bulma could hardly keep from laughing. She couldn't imagine Vegeta in an art class. He wasn't exactly the artistic type. "Ok, well that will be in a room down that hall. You'll find it easy." She pointed to a hallway crossing the main corridor. "Anyway, I have to get to class. I'll see you at lunch!"
Vegeta trudged into the history class and sat in the back corner. He dropped his heavy backpack on the floor next to his desk, folded his arms on top of it, and rested his head on them. He was bored out of his mind. School was worse than he ever imagined it could be. After he got his textbook and the lecture started, he cleared his mind to meditate. He was in a class where he actually didn't know the subject matter, but he couldn't care less about learning human history.
Bulma sat through her literature class, only vaguely interested. She never cared much for literature and English. Math and science were her areas of expertise. Still, the class was required so she had to endure it. Bulma was ready for school to be over, but it wasn't even lunch time yet. She sighed heavily and opened her notebook to doodle. Drawing could be entertaining. With that thought in mind she sketched a caricature of Vegeta wearing a beret and painting on an easel. She laughed to herself as she gave him a frustrated scowl.
"Vegeta? Vegeta?"
The young prince's eyes opened when he heard his name being called. "What?"
Mrs. Bonilla was taken aback by his tone, but she shrugged it off. "Would you read the third paragraph on page seven, please?"
'I would rather not,' he answered mentally as he opened his book and turned to the right page. He found the third paragraph and started reading out loud. He heard some of his peers whispering about his accent. Was it really that bad? He didn't think so. When he finished the paragraph Mrs. Bonilla thanked him and called another student to read the next paragraph.
Vegeta scanned over the page. It was talking about how the human population was still recovering from some event that happened three centuries ago. There wasn't much detail about what happened to practically wipe out all of human existence, including the population, technology, agriculture, and cities. The saiyan wondered what could have caused such devastation on the mudball. A worldwide epidemic of some disease wouldn't destroy the cities and technology. Perhaps it was a meteor shower, or an asteroid, a series of severe natural disasters, or even a sudden, drastic global climate change. All of those could explain the decline in the human population, but nothing seemed to be able to account for the other losses. Strange.
He was still pondering that question when the bell rang, cheerfully announcing the end of class. He put his history book in his backpack and left the classroom to go to art. He went down the hall Bulma indicated earlier and found the art room right away. The first thing he noticed inside was a woman with long, curly red hair, round thick-rimmed glasses, and frumpy clothes (including an oversized orange sweater despite the summer heat and a long, flowing floral skirt) sitting on a stool at the front of the class. She smelled faintly like the house of Charlie Conrad. Vegeta snarled as the scent triggered his memory.
"Hello, there. You can take a seat where you'd like," she told Vegeta. He grunted and went to an open table at the back of the room. The bell rang again a couple minutes later. The teacher stood up and smiled at her small class. "Welcome to art class. My name is Miss Hoogstraat."
Vegeta took this time to look around at the other students in the room. They looked like a bunch of weirdoes. The majority of them had oddly colored hair, excessive make-up (even the boys) and they were wearing minimal colors. He wondered what sort of class this was going to be if only the people from the fringes of accepted society were interested in taking it. He shrugged and leaned against the table, not interested in what Miss Hoogstraat was saying. She was as crazy as the rest of the students, therefore not worth his time.
"Alright students," Miss Hoogstraat said, "Pick any object in the room and draw a picture of it."
Her instructions given, she waltzed over to the desk already piled high with half-finished art projects and started drawing in great detail the mug full of pencils sitting precariously close to the edge. Vegeta glanced around the room when he noticed a drop in volume as the other students ceased talking to one another and the crazy teacher had finished speaking. He shrugged again and rapped his fingers on the table. He had another half an hour of the most pointless class he could ever possibly take. His head was already spinning from the fumes of the various paints housed in the cabinets. It was going to be a long half hour.
"Hey, kid," a girl with bright red hair at the table next to Vegeta's said when she saw he wasn't doing anything, "Aren't you going to draw something?"
"Draw what?" he grumbled.
The girl shrugged her shoulders and gestured to the whole room. "Miss Hoogstraat said you can draw anything in here. I'm drawing the stool at the front of the room."
Vegeta's eyes scanned over the room once more. There was nothing that caught his attention. The bright red-haired girl went back to her drawing while he debated what to draw. He could simply refuse to draw anything, but the Briefs were expecting him to earn high marks. He figured that meant he had to put some sort of effort into this school thing, even if it was the most degrading thing he would ever have to do. He grabbed a piece of paper from the center of the table and pulled his pencil out of his backpack. He tapped the eraser against the paper as he considered what he should draw.
Eventually he chose his own backpack that was lying on the floor next to his seat. It wasn't anything impressive, but it was something to draw, and that was what he was supposed to be doing. He drew the outline, added some details, and started shading it. In about five minutes his drawing was complete. He looked back and forth between his backpack and his drawing and nodded his approval. It could practically be mistaken for a photograph. When that was finished, he rested his head on the table and tried to block out the odors of paint, people, and marijuana. It was easy enough to draw something concrete. He might have more problems if he were asked to draw something original, something he couldn't physically see. He knew his limitations, and he knew he wasn't creative or innovative. That was one thing he admired about Bulma and her father. They could think up some crazy new invention and bring it to life. He could never do that. Not that he cared. As long as he could operate machinery and figure out equations that someone else took the trouble to discover or invent, he was satisfied. Regurgitating information input was where he excelled, and hopefully that would be all he needed, even in art class.
When the bell rang, Bulma raced out of her English class go get to the cafeteria and find a seat for herself and Vegeta. She was closer to the cafeteria so she reasoned that she would get there first. There was also the trivial issue of her having never mentioned to him where to find the cafeteria. Regardless, she was sure he would follow his nose and find the cafeteria on his own without her guidance. She found a seat by the windows and sat down facing the doors so she could watch for Vegeta.
Two or three minutes passed before Vegeta got to the cafeteria. As soon as she saw his trademark flame of coal black hair Bulma waved to get his attention. Her hand caught his eye and he made his way through the maze of tables and students to reach her. He sat down across from her and took his lunch capsule out of his backpack. He pushed the plunger and dropped it on the table. A small puff of smoke cleared, revealing a sizable feast fitting for a growing saiyan.
Bulma didn't bat an eye as she opened her own lunch capsule that had a ham sandwich, potato chips, and an apple. The discrepancy between their lunches was humorous considering they were about equal in size physically. Neither said a word as they ate, not because Bulma didn't want to talk but because she knew he wouldn't make conversation while eating. Besides, he still seemed to be in an exceptionally bad mood. It didn't surprise her. She wasn't in the greatest mood either. School had that effect on her.
"Hey freaks, why are you sitting in our seats?"
Bulma recognized the voice of the same boy who tried to make her move at the assembly that morning. She ignored his inquiry and continued eating. He obviously had nothing better to do than try bullying her, but she wasn't going to let him get to her. Vegeta likewise ignored the boys. He wasn't happy about being called a freak again, but he didn't consider a confrontation with the pathetic humans to be worth his time.
The basketball captain slammed his tray down on the table, causing his jell-o to jump and jiggle furiously. "Hello? Are you listening to me? These are our seats!"
Bulma glared at him. "Your name's not on them. Sit somewhere else."
"Move!" the boy shouted.
"You're free to join us," Bulma said sweetly, knowing that would throw him off.
He stuttered a moment, then regained his composure. "As if we'd want to sit with you."
Bulma shrugged. "Then I guess you'll have to find somewhere else to sit." She took another bite of her sandwich and attempted to ignore him.
The boy was not willing to admit defeat again. He surveyed the cafeteria for nearby, watchful teachers. None were around. He stomped over to Bulma and grabbed her hair to yank her out of her seat.
"Ow!"
Bulma whirled around in her seat and saw Vegeta pinning the bully against the wall with his arm twisted painfully behind his back. As silence fell through the cafeteria a low rumbling sound was heard. Only three people knew its origin.
"Vegeta, let him go," Bulma said calmly. She wanted to defuse the fight before Vegeta got in trouble.
The saiyan released his victim and returned to his seat. The boy rubbed his aching shoulder and scowled at the flame-haired runt. He felt the eyes of everyone in the cafeteria on him, all witnessing his shame. He strode over to Vegeta and drew his fist back to punch him, but his attack came to a grinding halt when he felt Vegeta's elbow in his solar plexus. He doubled over and howled in pain. Vegeta snorted and continued eating, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.
"Maybe you should take your friend to the nurse," Bulma suggested to the group of boys still standing around in shock. One of them nodded dumbly and helped his fallen friend to his feet and quickly retreated from the cafeteria.
Bulma wasn't surprised when she saw a teacher heading over to them. She sighed and finished her sandwich. 'What a great way to start the school year.'
"Bulma Brief, would you care to tell me what's going on here?" Mr. Brown, one of the math teachers, asked.
"Not really," she mumbled under her breath. She thought she saw a hint of a smirk curling Vegeta's lips.
"What was that?"
Bulma gave a fake smile and folded her hands primly on the table. "Well, Mr. Brown, I was being harassed by Jordan because he wanted my seat and didn't accept my candid invitation to let him sit with me. When he lost his temper, Vegeta stepped in to help me because he knew I was defenseless against Jordan.
"So you're telling me that Jordan started a fight."
"I would call it a heated argument."
"When you're finished eating you and Vegeta are to go to the principal's office."
Bulma nodded glumly and glared daggers at Mr. Brown's back as he walked back to his post – next to Miss Hoogstraat.
"This isn't fair," Bulma hissed.
Vegeta, having finally finished his lunch, packed his dishes back in the capsule. "What is the point of going to the principal?"
"It means we're in trouble and we're going to be punished because of that idiot jock."
Vegeta snarled at the word 'punished.' It reminded him too much of the lizard. "We aren't going to go."
"Sorry Vegeta, that's not a choice. We'll be in even deeper trouble if we don't go."
Vegeta knew all about compounded punishment. He shuddered at the memory. He knew human punishment would not be the same as he was used to, but he couldn't help but draw parallels. There was really nothing to be afraid of, he tried to tell himself. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension rising in his chest.
"What's the worst that could happen? They call my parents and give us detentions? I don't really care," Bulma ranted. She clenched her fists and pounded them against the table. "This is such bogus! We didn't do anything wrong!"
"Hn."
Bulma grabbed her backpack and stood up. "Let's get this over with."
Vegeta picked up his backpack and walked alongside Bulma as they exited the cafeteria. He smirked to himself when he heard the comments made about him. He didn't mind their fear. Fear equated to respect in his opinion. And he figured he was above them so they should fear and respect him.
"So probably the principal will ask us what happened, try to be fair, blah, blah. She'll place equal blame on all of us, take disciplinary action, and send us to class."
"Hn." Vegeta was wondering why she would be blamed for that fool going on the offensive. Obviously she was patronizing him, but he made the first move. Were humans so weak that they considered defense on the same level as offense? If anyone should be disciplined, it should be the idiot who tried to raise his hand against the girl.
They walked into the over-air conditioned office near the main entrance of the school. There they were directed to sit in the chairs lined up against the wall by the secretary. The boy who helped Jordan to the nurse was already sitting there. He watched Vegeta nervously as he walked by with Bulma. They sat down in the two chairs closest to the principal's office.
"Thanks, by the way."
Vegeta grunted. "You need to learn to defend yourself."
"Why bother when I have you to protect me?" she answered cheekily.
He shook his head with a sigh. "I won't be with you forever."
Bulma frowned. It wasn't the first time he told her he would leave. She couldn't understand why he would though. She knew he didn't want to go. He had nothing good to return to. He was horribly abused, why choose that life over the one he had at Capsule Corporation?
"You could be."
"Stupid girl. I've told you before that I have to go back. Maybe I'll come back some day, but not until I've exacted my revenge."
The blue-haired girl didn't bother arguing. A part of her didn't believe he would ever leave. But a greater part of her knew he would and there was no way to stop him.
"When do you plan to go back?"
"As soon as I can."
That was a mood dampener. Not that either of them were in a great mood as they waited to talk to the principal for an incident neither of them was responsible for. Bulma rested her chin in her hands and Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. He scowled at the door of the principal's office. Finally, after what seemed like an interminably long wait, the door opened and the principal walked out. She was followed closely by Jordan.
"Miss Brief, please come with me," the principal said. She walked back into her office with Bulma on her heels.
Vegeta's tail bristled when Jordan sat in the empty chair between him and the other boy. He considered scooting over to the seat Bulma previously occupied but he wasn't willing to give ground to his adversary. He ignored the boys as they started whispering to each other and focused on trying to hear what was going on behind the closed door.
"I need you to tell me what happened," Mrs. DuBois said as she sat behind her messy, oversized desk.
Bulma fidgeted with the hem of her shirt for a moment. "Me and Vegeta were minding our own business eating lunch when Jordan and his friends came over to our table. Jordan told us to move out of their seats. I told him he could sit with us but we weren't going to move. He got mad and tried to remove me from the table forcibly, but Vegeta stopped him. When Jordan tried to pick a fight with Vegeta, he defended himself. That's about it."
"When you say remove you forcibly, what do you mean?"
"Well, I guess he was going to pull me out of my chair. I don't know, he didn't get a chance to do it."
"Then how do you know he was going to hurt you?"
Bulma sighed. "I don't."
"Alright. Send Vegeta in and take a seat in the office."
The girl walked out of the principal's office and sat next to Vegeta. "It's your turn to go in. Just stay calm, ok?"
"Hn." Vegeta stood up and with regal poise went into the principal's office, shutting the door with a bang. He glared at the principal as he sat down in the chair in front of the desk.
"Vegeta, is that your name? I'm sorry that your first day at West City Middle had to go this way." Mrs. DuBois paused, waiting for a reply. When she was met with an awkward silence she decided to cut to the chase. "Well, I've heard the story from Jordan, Russell, and Bulma, but I'd like you to tell me from your perspective."
The saiyan rolled his eyes. "The idiot tried to interrupt our lunch. We ignored him. He tried to hurt the girl, and I prevented him from doing so. He was shamed, so he tried to retaliate, but I stopped him."
Mrs. DuBois was surprised that he, the one who could potentially be in the most trouble, gave the most concise answer. Not only that, but he had a very thick, unidentifiable accent.
"You said he was going to hurt Bulma. How do you know that?"
"He grabbed her hair. The muscles in his shoulders were tense, as if he were preparing to pull something. His facial expression showed he was angry. Basically, his body language screamed of ill intent."
The principal was astounded by his keen observations. Most students would simply say they could "tell" when someone was going to do something. The confidence she had in her belief that he acted irrationally wavered.
"And how did you prevent him from doing anything to her?"
"I immobilized him."
"You immobilized him."
Vegeta wondered why she repeated what he said. He answered her question, didn't he? What else did she expect from him? He slowly raised an eyebrow.
"How?" she prompted him.
"I used a hammerlock."
"I see," she said. She rapped her fingers against her desk. She honestly had no idea what a hammerlock was, but she wasn't about to admit that to a student. "You also mentioned he tried to retaliate. What exactly happened there?"
"He was going to punch me. I defended myself."
"How?"
He snarled a little as her interrogation persisted. He already told her what went on. Now she asked him to say it all over again. He was irritated enough by the questioning already, so he wanted it to be over before he lost his patience entirely.
"I hit his solar plexus, effectively stopping his attack on my person."
"He didn't hit you first?"
"No."
"How do you know he would have hit you?"
Vegeta rolled his eyes again. What a stupid question. He countered with his own: "Was I supposed to just let him hit me to be sure?"
"Well, no, but –"
"He intended to harm me and I protected myself. He brought it on himself."
Mrs. DuBois hardly knew what to say. He wasn't even trying to downplay his own act of violence. Deserved or not, he should not have hit Jordan. She picked up her phone and started dialing the number for Capsule Corporation. "I'm going to have to call your guardians about this, Vegeta."
He stayed silent as she finished dialing the number and held the phone to her ear. Vegeta didn't really want the Briefs to hear her rendition of what happened, but if that was the worst his punishment was going to be he could take it.
Mrs. Brief was putting a turkey in the oven when the phone started ringing. She ran over to it and saw on the call ID that it was Bulma and Vegeta's school calling. She picked up the receiver. "Hello, you have reached Capsule Corporation, this is Mrs. Brief speaking."
"Good day, Mrs. Brief," Mrs. DuBois started, "this is the principal of West City Middle School."
"Oh, dear, has something happened to my little girl? Or Vegeta?"
Mrs. DuBois winced and held the phone away from her ear. When the screeching on the other end subsided she replied, "No, Mrs. Brief. We've just had a little incident involving Bulma and Vegeta. Would it be possible for you to come for a meeting with me this afternoon?"
"What kind of incident?"
"Vegeta got into a small fight with another student here."
"What?" Mrs. Brief screamed. "Vegeta would never fight with anyone!"
Vegeta, hearing the full conversation, laughed to himself. Leave it to the crazy woman to defend his honor regardless of how wrong she was. She had no idea what he was capable of and willing to do. Had she forgotten about the scum who tried to kidnap her and the girl?
"I understand, Mrs. Brief, but I would still like to talk to you about what happened."
"I'll come right over."
"Thank you, Mrs. Brief."
Mrs. DuBois hung up the phone and turned to Vegeta. "Mrs. Brief will come over this afternoon. Until then, you and Bulma are free to go to class. You will be called back to the office when she arrives."
Without a word Vegeta stood and left her office. He grabbed his backpack from the floor and pulled Bulma from her chair. He continued out of the office with Bulma trailing behind.
"So what's going on?" Bulma asked once they were out of the office.
"Your mother is coming. We're supposed to go to class."
"Oh. Do you know how to get to your next class?"
"It's in the library."
"Do you know where that is?"
"I'm assuming down the hall from the art room. It's about the only area of this place I haven't been."
"You're right. Well, my class is right here. I'll see you soon."
"Hn." Vegeta continued his trek to the library for study hall. He thought that sounded like a big waste of time, but he had to go. In the library he saw a group of tables in the corner where other students were already sitting. He picked a chair as far away from everyone else as possible. There was one other person on the other side of the table, the girl with bright red hair from his art class. She was drawing a picture in a sketchpad. At least she was preoccupied and unlikely to bother him. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to meditate.
"Vegeta Brief, please come to the office."
His eyes snapped open when he heard the loud voice on the intercom. He saw the students glancing around in hopes of identifying who was being summoned to the office. Many of them recognized him from lunch when they saw him stand and stalk out of the library.
He was walking through the hall when he saw a girl with sky blue hair heading in the same direction. Apparently Bulma was required to attend the meeting as well. She slowed down when she heard someone behind her and turned. A small smiled replaced her grim expression when she saw him.
"So I guess we're in for it, huh?" she asked.
"In for what?"
"I don't know. But we're in big trouble. Man, this isn't fair. It's all Jordan's fault."
Vegeta had to agree. It was bothersome being sent to and from the office and back again over something so trivial. Humans could be so petty sometimes. He led the way into the office and went straight for the principal's office. The door was open this time and he could see the woman with blonde hair piled on her head in curls. Bulma hurried after him as he barged in on the meeting.
"Vegeta, wait outside," Mrs. DuBois ordered.
He sneered at her and sat in the chair next to Mrs. Brief. "No."
"Oh, Vegeta!" Mrs. Brief squealed, "Are you alright? I can't believe this happened on your first day of school!" She pounced on him and held him in a tight embrace, refusing to let go despite his frantic struggling.
"Mom, he's fine," Bulma said from the doorway where she stopped.
Mrs. Brief only hugged the saiyan prince tighter. "I'm so glad nothing happened to you. I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt. Honestly, these teachers need to do their job and keep bullies like that Jordan boy under control."
The longer she held him the less he struggled. He was mortified by her affection yet soothed by her scent. He breathed it in deeply and nuzzled into her chest. Mrs. Brief rubbed his back and looked at the principal, daring her to tell him to leave again.
Mrs. DuBois sighed and relented, motioning for Bulma to come in as well. She cleared her throat and picked up where she left off when she was interrupted. "As I was saying, Mrs. Brief, I understand that this is Vegeta's first time in school and as such might not know the rules, but I can't let this go undisciplined."
"I see where you're coming from, Mrs. DuBois, but I don't think he did anything wrong. That boy was going to hurt my daughter." Mrs. Brief was many things, but first and foremost she was a protective mother. Any action that kept her children – Bulma and Vegeta – from being hurt was worthy of reward. It was obvious no progress was being made in the meeting. Both women were becoming increasingly frustrated. Mrs. Brief never let go of Vegeta, who was by then unmoving. There was the faint rumbling of his purr as she stroked his back. She was, perhaps, the only one in the office who was not surprised by his behavior.
"If anyone should be punished, it's that horrible little boy who tried to hurt these two."
Mrs. DuBois tapped her pen against her desk and reclined back in her chair. The leather groaned as she changed positions. "Mrs. Brief, I will not deny that he is the one who instigated the fight, but Vegeta should not have fought back."
Mrs. Brief scoffed, a rare sound to hear from her. "And let my daughter get hurt?"
"He could have seriously injured Jordan."
"He could have, but he didn't. I see no reason to punish him for what he did. He was protecting Bulma and himself."
The principal rubbed her temples and sighed heavily. There was no winning when she was up against the richest woman in the world. She was eccentric, to be sure, but she was firm in her convictions. And right now she was convinced Vegeta was innocent. "Alright, Mrs. Brief. I won't take any disciplinary action this time, but if it happens again I'll have to."
Mrs. Brief's smile immediately returned to her face. "I'm glad to hear it. I do hope you'll punish that other boy though. Honestly, why would he want to pick on my babies?"
Bulma blushed a little at her mother's question. Vegeta didn't even notice it; he had fallen asleep in her lap as she continued stroking his back. Even her terrible, screeching voice couldn't keep him awake. Not when he was so thoroughly relaxed in her arms.
"Thank you for coming over to discuss this," Mrs. DuBois said as she stood up and extended her arm to shake Mrs. Brief's hand.
"It was no problem at all," Mrs. Brief replied, as polite as ever. She shook the principal's hand then ran her hand through Vegeta's thick hair. "Vegeta, honey, you need to go to class now."
He cracked his eyes open and yawned with a lazy stretch. He slid to his feet and left the principal's office, never saying a word to anyone there. Bulma hugged her mom quickly before running after Vegeta and catching up with him in the hall outside the office.
"My mom's great, huh? I can't believe she got us out of trouble so easily!"
"Hn." Vegeta didn't admit that he was asleep through most of the rather brief meeting between the crazy woman and the principal. Therefore, he didn't really know what happened. They were on their way back to class when the bell rang. It was already time to move on to their next class. Vegeta and Bulma parted ways, with her headed to the library and him headed in the opposite direction down the long hall.
When Bulma reached the library for her study hall, she picked a random book from the shelf and started reading to pass the time. So far she had not been assigned any homework and she had nothing better to do with herself for 45 minutes. The book she chose was not particularly interesting, but it was better than doing nothing. She didn't have any ideas for new gadgets and she didn't feel like drawing anything anyway. Though she was not absorbed in the book, it did its job and made the period pass quickly, and before she knew it the bell was ringing again.
Vegeta's seventh period was likewise dull. He had to sit through a class where he was basically being taught the exact same thing that the girl had taught him over the summer. He decided he didn't like English class very well. He was already proficient in the language. He had an extensive vocabulary and knew all the pertinent grammatical rules and their exceptions. He was more than glad when the bell rang. There was only one class left for him to go through before he was dismissed from the hell known as human middle school.
Bulma did not particularly care for gym class. Perhaps it would have been fun if she were playing with kids her own age (and size), but she wasn't. She was playing games with kids three or four years older. They were taller, faster, and stronger. They plowed her over in contact sports and ridiculed her when she couldn't keep up with them in other activities. It was the one class where her peers excelled and she didn't. She couldn't help that she couldn't compare to them physically. She was too much younger.
'I don't want to go to gym. At least Veggie's in my class. I know he's a million times faster and stronger and stuff, but he's also a million times stronger and faster than all the other idiots. Maybe he'll put them in their place.' Bulma shrugged to herself as she trudged through the crowds of students on her way to girls' locker room. Changing was undoubtedly the worst part of it all for her. She hadn't reached puberty. The other girls had. Their bodies were developing, but hers wasn't. Seeing the other girls around her made her feel even more childish than she already did.
Bulma sat down on one of the benches in the locker room to wait for the teacher to come and assign everyone lockers. Then she would probably talk to them about proper behavior in the locker room and maybe even another awkward lecture about hygiene. Bulma still felt uncomfortable whenever she remembered the first time Mrs. Boracci told them where they would sweat the most and thus where to clean themselves the best when showering after class. Maybe it was only awkward for her because she was too young for it to be very relevant.
A while after the second bell rang Mrs. Boracci came into the locker room with a box full of locks. "Ok, girls, you all know who I am and what the rules are, so go ahead and get a lock and I'll assign you a locker. I trust you all remembered your gym clothes?" No one said they didn't, so they formed a line to get a lock and locker so they could get changed and go to the gym to begin class.
Vegeta wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he entered the boys' locker room. He saw boys standing around, goofing off, and cracking obscene jokes with each other. He shrugged and sat down on a bench. His tail tightened around his waist. He gathered from the fact that he had to have a change of clothes that he would be changing around the humans. He wasn't exactly body shy, but he knew he would attract attention for a variety of reasons – he was small, muscular, scarred, and he had a tail. He didn't want attention. It made him uncomfortable.
"Sit down!" a deep voice barked. The sound echoed through the instantly silent locker room. Vegeta's lip curled at the abrupt noise and the fact that all the benches, including the one he previously had all to himself, were filled with human brats.
A very large man with an impressive gut waddled into view. He had creases on his forehead that made him appear perpetually angry or stressed and his hair was cut so short he may have been bald. Vegeta wasn't sure which it was. All he could think was how someone so obviously out of shape could be the gym teacher. He was no example of fitness.
"Ok boys, you should know the rules, but just to make sure you haven't forgotten since last year, I will not tolerate horseplay in here. No running, pushing, shoving, fighting, and unnecessary yelling. I expect you all to shower after class. I don't care about your modesty, I won't let you leave my class stinking to high heaven. Now get your locks and change into your gym clothes, which you should have with you, and go to the gym."
Vegeta groaned quietly. He had to take a shower here every day? What would be the point? He would never break a sweat. He stood and went to grab a lock from the box. There was a tag attached to it with the combination written on it. He took the lock to a locker at the back of the room and pulled his gym clothes out of his backpack. He hesitated in changing until he saw others taking their clothes off. Privacy was not an option.
With a sigh, Vegeta pulled his shirt off and threw it in the locker he claimed. He could practically feel the eyes of those around him as they stared at his back. He ignored them and put on his gym shirt. He took off his jeans, but he had to uncurl his tail from around his waist to do so.
"What the hell is that?"
"Is that a tail?"
"That kid's a freak!"
"That's not real. No way."
Vegeta did his best to ignore the comments he heard. He tossed his jeans in the locker and pulled on his gym shorts, which thankfully already had a hole made for his tail. He wrapped it snugly around his waist and put his shoes on. After slamming his locker shut and putting the lock on it, he left to go to the gym. He saw several groups congregating in different areas of the gym. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Hey, Veggie!"
Bulma rushed over to the saiyan as soon as she saw him. She leaned against the wall next to him. "I hate gym. But I'm glad it's the last class of the day."
"Hn."
She saw some of the boys giving Vegeta strange looks as they walked by. She figured they had seen his tail. She hoped they wouldn't make fun of him for it. Sure it was strange, but that was just part of Vegeta.
"We're probably going to go outside today. It's really nice out." Bulma glanced around the gym. Neither of the gym teachers had come in yet. She wasn't surprised. They wasted more time getting started than the students so they ended up only getting to play whatever stupid game for about 20 minutes. Not that she was complaining. She took no pleasure in the activities they did anyway.
The students were getting restless by the time the teachers came in to the gym. "Girls, I need you to come over to this side of the gym. Boys go with Mr. Lee."
The boys and girls split up to take attendance. When roll was called, they were led outside to play kickball. Bulma fell into step with Vegeta as they walked out to the field. She was dragging her feet, not very eager to play kickball. It was one of her least favorite games.
At the field, two team captains were chosen. Bulma frowned as student after student was picked for teams, excluding her and Vegeta. It wasn't unexpected considering they were outcasts and were physically smaller than all the other students. They didn't look like they would be assets to either team. Still, she hated when students chose teams. She didn't need to be reminded how much they didn't like her.
Once the teams were chosen with Bulma and Vegeta on opposing sides, the game finally started. The rules were never explained. The teachers simply assumed everyone knew them by heart. Vegeta was able to pick up on them as the game progressed. The kicking team wanted to get their players around the bases. Players in the field tried to get kickers out by catching the ball, tagging runners out, or getting the ball to the bases before the runners. Easy enough. His team started in the field first. He caught the ball when it came his way and hurled it at the runner heading for second. Many of the students watched in astonishment as the new kid easily got two out.
Bulma grinned when she saw his sneer when his teammates congratulated him. Of course he wouldn't think anything of it. Still, her team now had two outs. One more and she would have to go stand in the field and hope the ball wouldn't come her way. She cringed when she saw the boy who Vegeta hit with the ball being helped back to the school building, presumably to visit the nurse.
Another boy went up to kick. When he sent the ball flying and he started running for first, Vegeta reached out and snagged the ball out of the air as it sailed past him. The saiyan dropped the ball on the ground and walked off the field with the rest of his team.
"Nice catch, Veggie," Bulma said as she passed him on the way out to the field.
Vegeta stood in line to kick, arms crossed over his chest and expression stoic. He was bored beyond belief with the game. He wasn't paying attention to it until he felt someone pushing him toward the plate. He growled at being touched but went up to the home plate. One of the taller boys in the class was the pitcher. He looked mad when he saw who was kicking: the shrimp who single-handedly got three outs before he got the chance to kick. He hoped to make a fool of him by pitching the ball too fast. He rolled the ball to Vegeta, so fast it bounced high over every bump in the field. It would be hard to kick.
Vegeta watched the ball as if it were coming in slow motion. Unimpressed with the aggressive pitch, he swung his left foot forward when the ball reached him. The ball flew away in a high arc over the field. It landed far behind the fence at the back of the field. A home run. Vegeta jogged around the bases, his run bringing home two other runners.
"Alright guys," Mr. Lee yelled, "Time to go in."
Most of the class gave a collective shout of protest but started the walk back to the school. The game was even shorter than usual. In the locker room, the boys took off their clothes and went to the showers. Vegeta knew he was being stared at. He couldn't do anything about it, though. He took a fast shower, dried himself with a small flare of ki, and put his clothes on. He leaned against the lockers and waited for the bell to ring.
When it did, he walked out of the locker room and went down the hall toward the main entrance of the school. He was soon joined by Bulma. "So I doubt you want to bring all your books home. You can put them in your locker."
"My locker?"
"Yeah, I forgot to mention it earlier. Our lockers are upstairs because they go in alphabetical order. I think it's a pain they start upstairs."
Vegeta shrugged and followed Bulma upstairs to their lockers. He wasn't bothered by the weight of his books, but she was right, he didn't want to take them home.
"Your locker combination is on your schedule. Do you know how to do it?"
"Hn." He found his schedule in his backpack and opened his locker. He shoved his whole backpack into it and shut it.
"Cool. Let's go home. I'm sick of this place."
Vegeta agreed. School was more pointless than he ever thought it would be. He hated it. It was a serious waste of time. He could have spent the day training, but instead he was stuck in school learning things that would never help him. At least he would only have to endure it for a few months. If the retrieval squad made it to Earth when he predicted they would, he wouldn't have to finish the school year. He would leave sometime in March. While he didn't want to leave the planet, he knew it was necessary and unavoidable. Until that happened, he would try to refrain from killing the idiots he encountered in middle school.
A/N: I mentioned at the beginning of the story that this isn't going to be a school fic, and it isn't. Don't worry, there won't be much about their school adventures. I know I said I would update regularly despite going kayaking, but I was detained at my friend's house a day later than I thought I would be so I didn't have the chance to update. I'm sorry about that. If I get enough reviews on this (wink) chapter by tomorrow I'll update again and stick to our regularly scheduled updating. I've been having a hard time editing the next several chapters because I've changed a few things around, so hopefully I can get those sorted out soon and continue writing more.