Chapter One: First Day

Bulma pulled up to the front parking lot of Orange Star High School, looking around at the people just standing around, leaning against the hoods of their cars. The dark gray clouds in the sky showed that Mother Nature was going to be a bitch today. Bulma sighed.

One tall boy with blonde hair tripped another smaller boy right in front of her car. Bulma jammed on her breaks and just missed him. She felt her heart skip a happy beat as she realized that her tires hadn't bumped anything… or anyone for that matter. The smaller boy jumped up and ran off, his oversized books pressed tightly to his chest. The taller boy was laughing and a few more behind him joined in.

"Hey!" Bulma called, rolling down her window in frustration, "What's wrong with you?! He could have been seriously hurt!" Why would somebody ever do something like that?

"I know," the boy called sarcastically, turning his head around to see who was talking to him like that. He didn't take shit like that from anyone, and he'd be damned before he let— "Well, well. Look what we have here, boys." A group of disgustingly-dressed teenage boys followed the tall one to walk up to the side of her car. Their pants were too small and half of their underwear was showing, including some unwanted skin area that clearly defined them for Bulma as future plumbers. Two of them, including the one that looked to be the leader, rested their arms on her door and poked their faces into her car. "A new kid." They snickered, showing her their yellow stained teeth. "And she's cute, too."

"Get out," Bulma said, annoyed, pushing their heads out of her car. They hooted like wild animals as she drove further into the parking lot. What a strange group of boys, she thought. She had never seen teenage boys act that way before. She hoped that the entire high school wasn't filled with such trash.

She rolled up her window and parked in the space that was farthest away from any other cars. Being in tight spaces wasn't her favorite thing in the world, especially when it came to driving. And that included where she parked her car. Her mother always used to make fun of her for it, but she figured that, while driving, it was best to do whatever made her the most comfortable. Besides, the farther away she parked, the less likely it was that her car would be damaged in any way. Whether it was her or someone else who did the damaging.

She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder before opening the driver's side door. A blast of cold air hit her and she breathed it in. Yup, it was definitely going to rain sometime today. And it looked to be a big storm cloud almost directly above her head, too. Damn Mother Nature and her mood swings, Bulma thought to the world. She reminded herself to prepare to drive in the rain when the school day was over. Driving in the rain always put extra stress on her mind.

She took another breath of the air and stepped out of her small white car. Considering how she had enough money to buy herself relatively anything she wanted, the small white car had been taken to school on purpose. Bulma had decided not to attract too much attention to herself on the first day.

Bulma wore regular blue jeans and comfortable white sneakers with a light blue checkered flannel shirt to match. Her aquamarine hair was pulled into a tight and neat ponytail from the top of her head and she wore one expensive crystal stud in each ear. She had a thin, plastic green bracelet on her left wrist and a silver watch on the other, also expensive. She figured no one would notice her watch, though. She looked around and took in the big sight of Orange Star High, her new getaway from home… Whether she liked it or not.

She grabbed the papers her parents had given her before she left her new house and shut the door, locking the car as she walked away and into the crowds of teens. She gagged, passing a crowd of slutty girls wearing way too much perfume. She let out a cough when she passed a fat boy who smelled like he hadn't taken a shower in weeks. She decided that she'd rather smell the perfume if she had to choose. She could also feel her heart racing and hoped no one could hear it pounding against her rib cage, struggling to break free. All the people around her made her more nervous than she originally thought they would. After all, they were just people. She'd been around people before. She told herself that this was no different from talking with her father's scientist friends or her mother's artsy companions, but something was forcing her to believe otherwise.

She was constantly saying, "excuse me," but no one seemed to notice when she was trying to get past them. Even when she knew they could hear her, they still didn't move. She ended up pushing her way to the front door of the building. A big sign on the door read, "Fall Musical! Come and watch your classmates perform!" She cocked an eyebrow at the multicolored poster and pushed the door open in mock-exasperation.

Inside the building was much better than the outside. Banners hung on the walls, reading things like 'freedom,' 'respect,' friendship,' and other things like that. She wondered if it was just a disguise to fool parents that came in during the day. It seemed like a deceptive but smart thing to do. Make the adults believe that their children are going to a wonderful school when it actually sucked worse than being in hell, taught by the devil himself. Bulma wondered if that was really what high school was all about.

It was also a lot quieter inside the building, and the people were nicer as well. A few said 'hello' to her and others asked if she was new or if she needed any help finding her way around the school. After a short conversation with a boy with a scarf around his neck, she was on her way to the main office to obtain her schedule for the entire year. She opened the glass door and stepped inside.

Bulma's first year in high school was her junior year. She only had senior year after that, and then it was off to college. She felt like she was going to miss something, but after reconsidering, she came to the conclusion that she'd probably like the shortened period of school-time better in the future.

"Hello, sweetheart," a lady in a purple suit called, realizing that Bulma was looking around aimlessly. "Do you need help with something?"

"Uh, yes," Bulma said, walking up to the lady's desk, "Is this the main office?"

"Yes it is."

"My name is Bulma Briefs and this is my first time here. I was told that I should come to the main office for my schedule for the year. May I have it please?"

The lady nodded and spun around in her wheeled computer chair. She bent down, rummaged through some files and then sat back up, a yellow folder in her hands with Bulma's name on it. Bulma quietly noted that the lady smelled like baby powder and air fresheners. She tried her best not to wheeze at the disgusting combination of odors.

The lady pulled out a pile of papers and passed them across the desk. Bulma took them casually and quickly breezed through them, looking for something that could possibly look like her schedule.

"It's right on top, sweetheart," the lady in the purple suit said, placing her pointer finger on top of the pile in Bulma's hands, flipping the pages over so Bulma would see the top sheet. Bulma smiled, nodded her appreciation and walked out of the main office. As soon as the door shut behind her, a sharp, high-pitched noise rung throughout the building and Bulma covered her ears, almost dropping her papers in the process. All the people who had been outside now stormed through the front doors and plowed down the hallways. Bulma guess the high-pitched noise was indicating that the school day had started. She glanced at her paper, dodging a group of stampeding girls that almost trampled her as flat as a pancake.

"All right," she said to herself, "First period… Let's see… English, room number thirty-five." Bulma looked through her packet of papers again to see if she could find a map of the building, but she drew a blank. There wasn't any sign of a map in her pile of apparently non-important papers. She followed a crowd of yawning teens just entering the building to see if they could help her. "Excuse me," she said to one of the girls, "Could you please tell me where room number thirty-five is?" The girl looked over at her as if Bulma had just told her how obnoxious she looked. The girl scowled and stomped away, a group of people running to catch up to her.

Bulma followed after another group of people, but couldn't catch up to them in time. They entered a classroom on the right. Bulma looked above the door to find the number twelve. She silently thanked whatever omnipotent being was watching down on her. The last thing she wanted to do was make a fool out of herself because she couldn't find her classroom, and if anything was going to help her, besides people, it was numbered label for each classroom. The thought that kept entering her mind was the image of a room full of students and a professor staring at her as she entered her first class… late.

She satisfyingly looked ahead for the number thirteen and continued down the hallway. When she reached the end, she turned right at the three way intersection in the hallway and came to the room numbered forty-seven. Turning around, she bumped into a spiky haired teen that had been walking right behind her.

Bulma froze.

The boy was gorgeous. Bulma took the moment that they faced each other to take in all the glorious details. His spikey hair was jet black, but they didn't even come close to the darkness in his onyx eyes. They seemed to pierce her flesh like icicles in a raging and violent snow storm. His look alone sent cold chills up and down her spine. She noted how his tight blue tank-top magnified every muscle in his upper body. Bulma could have used the word perfect and then decided that it was an understatement. His arms were flawlessly covered in what Bulma could've described as a layer of protection. She could have easily pictured herself in his arms, feeling like she was safe for all of eternity. The scowl placed firmly on his face wasn't inviting at all, but the simple shape of him made her heart do an underwater backflip. She found herself holding her breath for a fraction of an instant. The only way to describe this elegant and immaculate figure in front of her was pure sex in human form. She mentally slapped herself. That was no way for a girl like her to think! But still, he had to have been the most divine creature she had ever laid her eyes on.

"Watch where you're going!" Holy shit. Even his voice sounded godlike. Bulma could hear that sound for months and never get bored with it. In fact, she found herself desperately yearning to hear it again.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to find my way around. I'm looking for room thirty-five, and I think I went the wrong way. Sorry about that." Her voice came out quicker and more high-pitched than she would have liked, but at least it was working. That was a definite plus.

"You're going the right way," he said, clearly aggravated with her naivety. "Just follow me. I have the same class." Bulma screamed with joy and excitement in her head. It actually took some effort not to do it for real, but she congratulated herself for it as the flawless boy walked ahead of her, not checking to make sure she was following behind him.

Bulma noticed that, when the boy walked, people moved out of his way as if he would just punch anyone who got near him. She noted how the girls' faces turned red as he passed them and how some of them, glanced over and shyly turned away when they thought he caught them staring. The males that he passed were clearly acknowledging him as the Alpha Male, moving out of the way as he walked and turning their backs so as not to offend him. Bulma decided that he was probably the last person anyone in the vicinity would want to bump into, but she had actually done it, and, currently, her ass wasn't being kicked. She felt a sense of pride in herself. Ha-ha, she thought to the people around her, No one but me has the guts to bump into this guy, and he's escorting me to my first class, which we have together, if I might add. She smiled to herself. The first five minutes of high school and she was already in love. Don't ruin anything, Bulma, she thought to herself eagerly. She knew this probably wasn't the best thing in the world for her to be doing, but the people watching her apparently found it obvious how she was following the man that held almost every girl's attention in the halls. So, naturally, the attention was also on her. Her first taste of people being jealous of her felt like a sugar rush. Or an adrenaline rush. It didn't matter to her. All this only made her notice how much more amazing the boy she was following really was. Her heart did another underwater backflip.

Make sure you focus on your schoolwork, her parents had told her. Don't get into anything that could distract you from your primary duties. Man, if she had too many classes with this guy, she was going to have a lot of focusing to do, and she wasn't even sure that it was going to be on her schoolwork either. She blushed at her own thoughts as she currently focused on not staring too low on the boy in front of her as he flawlessly walked among the crowds.

She put her thoughts on pause as the spiky haired boy entered a classroom. She checked the number at the top to find that it was indeed room number thirty-five. She followed him up the stairs to the desks and looked around at the nearly empty room. Only a few people were already seated in chairs, pulled close to their tables. Each table seated about three or four people and there were three tables lined up horizontally on each step. There were three steps as well. The boy she was following sat at the far end of the rightmost table on the rightmost side. It seemed like he knew exactly where to sit, even before he entered the room. Bulma cautiously followed him and stood, standing next to the seat to the boy's left.

"It's taken," he said, not bothering to look up at her when he spoke.

"Oh," Bulma said. Her insides fell apart as she turned around, looking for any other place to sit. Then, people started filing into the room and taking their seats as if they, too, knew exactly where they wanted to be as soon as they entered the classroom. Bulma was left standing, not knowing where she should, or could, sit. She guessed that she just had a harder time deciding where to sit in the first class that she'd ever been to in her entire existence. She felt like she would have a panic attack if she picked the wrong place to sit down. Plus, whenever she began to walk to a seat, deciding that it was ideal for her first class ever, another person just walked up to it and sat down in her place. Then, she'd have to turn around and look for another ideal seat. She felt her heart race when she thought about being the only person without a seat. Was that even possible? What if the people who set up the schedules put her in a class that was already full? Oh, no, she thought, what do I do now?

"Will you just sit down?" the boy said, aggravated with her again. Bulma turned back around. The only seat that wasn't taken in her view was the one right next to him. And he had said that it was already taken.

"Where?" she asked.

"Right there," he said, and Bulma could feel him heating up as if he were an oven on high. And boy was he hot. Bulma mentally slapped herself again. Stop that! she told herself forcefully.

"You said it was taken," she replied, setting her bag down next to the chair anyway.

"Well, now it is," he said, a mocking tone to his voice. Bulma came to the obvious conclusion that she shouldn't get this one angry. He seemed to have a short fuse for a temper… and an attitude as the bomb.

She also decided that, because of the way everyone acted around him when he had led her through the halls before, he had something weird about him that she wasn't yet aware of. She hoped it wasn't something bad, like he just got out of prison or something.

Bulma happily pulled out the chair and sat down. She pulled it closer to the table, unintentionally noticing the stares and glares that were thrown her way. People were watching her left and right… and she kind of liked it. Her first day of school was turning out to be pretty nice, despite what her original thoughts had been about it. She had already made a friend, or what she thought could be a friend, she hadn't embarrassed herself in front of everyone, and she didn't get lost finding her first class. Bulma was on a roll. She just hoped that it didn't suddenly stop anytime soon.

"All right, you lazy maggots," a voice called from the front of the room. A man walked in and stood at the base of the stairs, angrily watching everyone in the room. "This is your first period class for the year. And I, Mr. Piccolo, am your English teacher." He paused to make sure he held all of the attention in the room. "I only have one rule. It's that you listen to everything I tell you to do and to study hard. But… I have plenty more punishments than I have rules. And let's just say that the principal and the supervisors of the school board don't have to know everything, and what they don't know can't hurt them. But it can hurt you." Bulma watched a few people go white. The boy sitting next to her had a bored expression on his face. "But don't worry. As long as you follow my one rule, you'll do fine in my class." Bulma hoped that not all teachers were like this, but she was prepared. Plus, she had no problem with Mr. Piccolo's one rule. She could follow that, no problem. Paying attention and following orders was something she had been doing for her entire life. Why stop now? And studying hard was easy. Without her parents around, what else could she possibly do all by herself…?

"Now…" Mr. Piccolo looked everyone in the eyes before continuing. Bulma found it almost difficult not to look away when his evil-looking eyes met hers. "We'll begin with a quiz!" Groans and whines were heard all over the room. Complaints bounced off the walls. One girl cried that it was unfair to the class. Mr. Piccolo held up his left hand to silence them. The room slowly lost its fire. And so did the people in it. Mr. Piccolo grabbed a stack of papers from off his desk and placed one in front of each person. The spiky haired boy sitting next to her took out a freshly sharped pencil and began writing as soon as the paper hit the top of his desk. Bulma then got hers and she looked at the problems. The first one was her name. Whenever her parents gave her worksheets for when she was homeschooled, she never filled out her name because she didn't find a point to it. In fact, she hadn't even known why the empty space was there to begin with, seeing as her parents knew who's paper it had been. But now that there were a bunch of different students taking the same paper as their quiz, she finally realized why it was important. She carefully wrote Bulma Briefs in the neatest handwriting she could manage before looking at the first question.

What is a split verb? she thought. That's easy. It occurs any time you place a modifier between a helping verb and the main verb. Next question: what is an ambiguous pronoun? It's when a pronoun doesn't have a known or direct antecedent. How do you avoid a parallel structure? You make everything in the same tense and form in a sentence. What is a block quote? When you are quoting a dialogue or more than three sentences. What is Anglo-Saxon lyrical poetry? It is a lyric poem that expresses the thoughts and feelings of a single speaker. What is an epic? It's a long, narrative poem that depicts the story of a legendary hero. What is a satire? It's a social commentary. What is an epistolary? It is a novel in letter form. What is the difference between direct and indirect characterization? Well, direct characterization is when the author tells the readers exactly how the character acts and what his or her personality is. And indirect characterization is when the author leaves the character's personality and traits for the readers to decide based off of vague descriptions that the author gives. What is medieval romance? That's easy. They're adventure stories that feature knights, kings, damsels in distress, etc. They also tell of quarrels, battles and doomed love. Finally, the last question: What are legends? Legends are anonymous traditional stories. They may be based off of facts. Their elements are heroic figures, memorable deeds, quests, tests of valor, patterns of events, etc. Phew! That was intense.

Bulma's pencil moved like crazy, and she completed her task with a silent sigh. She knew that not many people in the world were as smart as her, but she didn't like to brag about it. Even though she was homeschooled by her parents, they had taught her so many things. It never surprised her when people called her a natural genius. In fact, she got that compliment often by the adults she spoke to when helping her parents with their work. Because of her tremendous studying and natural talent, she guessed that she was one of the smartest students in the room.

The spiky haired teen got up from his seat and walked to the front of the room. He placed his quiz in front of Mr. Piccolo, who didn't even bother looking up from his desk as he wrote a few things down in a notebook in front of him. Bulma didn't even hear him say 'thank you' or anything. She stood up next and passed the boy on her way down the steps. She was taking extra care not to fall. Despite her amazing abilities of knowledge, she was also sometimes referred to as a magnet for disaster. The last thing she wanted was to trip and fall right in front of everyone in such a quiet room. The sound of silence was sometimes the loudest thing she had ever heard. Now was one of those times.

She placed her paper on top of the spiky haired boy's quiz and stole a quick glance to see what his name was. It was hard to see upside-down, but she managed to make out a Ve—

"Miss!" Mr. Piccolo called, "Do not look at the other students' papers! Just place your quiz down now or I'll have to give you a zero." Bulma's face turned bright red as she turned around. She looked up to find that many people were staring at her. She took her chances and flung them out the window just to take a peek at the teen to her right as she pulled out her chair from the table. She was surprised to see him with his head down, not appearing to care about anything. Bulma wondered if she should scream "fire!" just to get him to look up, but she guessed that he wouldn't really care about that either. And all it would do is gather everyone's attention on her, seeing as there was obviously no fire.

She sat down and pulled in her chair. Another thing that surprised her was that, before she had been yelled at, she had noticed that the boy's paper had been filled out completely. She stupidly found herself becoming a bit attached to him because he seemed to be intelligent, just like her. She smiled to herself before putting her pencil back in her bag. She glanced around inconspicuously, trying not to get caught again and yelled at in front of the entire class. She noticed how many of the teens in the room had barely managed to scrape the surface of the quiz. A bunch didn't even have any writing on their papers, other than their names, of course. And some didn't even have that much. Almost a half an hour passed before a few people handed their quizzes in to Mr. Piccolo. Bulma noted how little they had filled out. Maybe being smart wasn't popular in high schools. Maybe some people just didn't know the things she did. But that seemed a bit odd. She could never understand how so many people could be so ignorant to English and literature. They were such interesting and thought-provoking subjects… Weren't they…?

Bulma's heart began to race. She recalled a few of the groups of teens in a typical high school setting that she had researched a few days ago. She remembered the smart people being known as the nerds. She had read that nerds had no social status whatsoever and they were often made fun of. She mentally panicked. She didn't want to be the oddball-out. She wanted to be one of the popular teens in the building. She wanted people to know who she was, not to look down on her because she was a nerd. Ugh, she thought. She could never sacrifice her schoolwork to become popular, so that was out of the question. What else could she possibly do? She could try and create her own group. She could make some smart friends and create a group of smart and cool people. She stole a quick look at the boy to her right. He could be first… Yeah, right. She could barely talk in front of him without throwing up her own goddamn stomach in the process! Besides, what idiots created their own groups anyway? Sheesh.

That annoying high-pitched sound rung around the school again, and people began leaving their seats. Bulma quickly concluded that the noise indicated not only the start of the school day, but when to leave the classes as well. She also guessed that it was to tell the students when the day was over. She pulled out her schedule and looked at the second box. Human Behavior, room number forty-seven, she thought, picturing the number forty-seven above a door in her mind. If only finding all her rooms was that easy… It would be kind of nice if the entire school was only in her mind.

She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder. She followed the crowd out into the hallway and traced back her steps, remembering that she had passed room number forty-seven before, when she had first bumped into the spiky haired teen. She looked behind her to see if he was there, but she noticed his hair above the crowds, way in front of her already. And he was going in the opposite direction than the way she needed to go. She sighed and made her way to her next class.

Upon entering the room, she looked around for someone with a friendly and helpful face, but all she found were yawning boys and scowling girls. No one in the room looked friendly to her. They all looked angry to be there, and some actually looked like they might kill someone to get out. Bulma made sure to steer clear of those types of faces. She found an empty seat in the middle of the front table, all the way on the right. Apparently, all the classrooms were set up the same way. The two that she had been in, including this one, had the three horizontal tables on each of the three steps, and a desk for the teacher in the front, with a blackboard behind it. The only difference was that there was actually a teacher in the chair at the front desk when the students walked into the room.

Bulma watched from her seat as the empty seats slowly disappeared. Then, a relatively small girl with long black hair sat to Bulma's left.

"It's okay if I sit here, right?" she asked. Bulma thought her voice sounded like chimes. "Is it taken?"

"No, no," Bulma said happily, excited that she was currently sitting next to what seemed to be the nicest person in the room. "It's not taken. You can sit there."

"Thanks," she said, placing her backpack on the ground, leaning against the metal leg of her chair. It fell over as she pulled her chair closer to the black table in front of her. She looked down at it, but didn't bother to pick it back up. She then turned back to Bulma. "My name's Chichi. Who are you?"

Bulma paused before answering, thinking once again about her luck for this girl sitting next to her. "I'm Bulma Briefs."

"Are you new here? I don't remember ever seeing you around last year."

"Yeah," Bulma smiled, "This is actually my first day of school. My parents have homeschooled me since I was four years old. I've never been around so many people in such an enclosed area in my entire life."

"Wow. You mean you've never been to a school… Like ever?"

"Well, I've been to schools across the world, helping children learn how to read and other stuff like that, but I've never been taught in a school. I've never been an actual student before. Except for in my own house, but I don't think that really counts, does it?"

"Holy cow, that's so cool. You mean, you've never had to go to classes, or got a detention or, my gosh, played in any sports?"

"Nope."

"Girl, you're going to have to stay close by me. When I say this high school is a forest of animals, I mean it's a jungle of animals. Even the teachers are wacky. This one, for instance," she said, pointing to the blonde lady at the front of the classroom. She had thick, round orange glasses and was still sitting at her desk, absorbed in some outrageously thick book. "That's Miss Misuka. She's nice to all of her students, but she can never concentrate while she's teaching a class. Not that I'm complaining. I had her last year, so when I say we're going to have a lot of talking time, you known I'm being serious."

Bulma nodded.

"So meet anybody special lately?" she asked, a strange tone in her voice.

"What do you mean?"

Chichi smirked. "I think you know exactly what I mean… You know, like a boy?"

"Uh… No, not really."

"Oh, come on! Don't be modest. Everyone already knows about what happened with you and Vegeta this morning."

"… Huh? What happened?" she asked, not understanding the importance of her statement.

"You actually hit him turning around. And then he took you to your class. Then, he let you sit next to him. Wow, girl. You must be something special. Vegeta never even wants to be around girls if he can help it. He's a lone wolf, if you know what I mean. He never talks to anyone he thinks is lower than him unless necessary. Plus, the biggest thing is that he let you sit next to him, let alone the fact that he actually offered the seat to you. No one really dares to sit next to him except for his closest friends. Everyone's always afraid that he'll be mad at them. And when I say that no one wants to be the target of Vegeta's anger, you know I'm not joking."

"Why?"

"Wow. You really are new at this school stuff, aren't you? Although I'd have to say that Vegeta is the only exception to the 'normal' high school life. He tends to happily invite ambulances to our school. And sometimes, the people who go there never come back."

Bulma went white as a fresh cloud. "You mean, he killed someone?!"

"No, no. Nothing that bad, but he still sent them to the hospitals. What I meant is that they're too afraid to ever be in the same building as that guy after he's done with them. Vegeta has made himself a reputation of the boy that no one wants to mess with, as well as, of course, being the hottest guy in school because of his physical abilities that he never neglects to show off."

Bulma sat back in her chair, thinking about that spiky haired boy. So, his name is Vegeta, huh? she thought to herself, I kind of like it. And Chichi just said that he's the 'most wanted' guy in the entire school. I guess that's for more than one reason… hehe. Plus, he had escorted her, in a way, to her first period class, and he offered for her to sit next to him. If that was as big of a deal as Chichi said it was, then she felt even more special than she had before. He was even amazingly smart, which she had just witnessed while taking her first ever, official quiz.

Bulma and Chichi talked further on the subject of how a high school works and what teachers to look out for, etc. As Chichi had predicted, Miss Misuka didn't budge from her seat. She continued reading her insanely thick book through the entire class period and even through the bell that dismissed the class.

Bulma's next period was Pre-Calculus/ Trigonometry. She found the numbered room with relative ease without anyone's help, but she didn't find anyone to talk to. She raised her hand when her name was called for attendance, and noticed a few people talking about her and glancing over. They had been trying to be inconspicuous about it, but had epically failed, quickly whipping their heads around when they saw that she had seen them. Other than that, she just sat there, minding her own business and watching the clock until the next annoying high-pitched ring pierced her ears, signaling for fourth period to beginning in a few minutes.

Fourth period was Chemistry. Bulma entered the huge room to find that there were at least thirty people in this one class. Off, in the back right corner of the room, was her spiky haired acquaintance. He was talking to another boy. Bulma noticed that it looked like he was complaining about something to the other boy.

"All right! Everyone to the front of the room! Now! You should all wait until I call your name, and then I'll give you your assigned seats for the year." Bulma looked up to find a short-haired brunette woman. She looked like she was five or six months pregnant.

Everyone scurried to the front of the room and awaited the teacher's call.

"Sharpner! Up in the front, please! Erasa! Next to Sharpner!" Bulma patiently awaited her name to be called. "Goku! Over there, in the next row, please!" The boy that Vegeta had been complaining to stepped forward and took his seat. "Angela, next to Goku!" Bulma dozed off for a brief moment. "Vegeta, in the back right lab table!" She snapped back into reality and watched as he made his way back to the farther right corner of the room, where he had been standing before class began. "Maron, next to Vegeta!" A long haired dopey-looking girl skipped daintily to her seat. If Bulma had to pick one word to describe her, it was definitely ditzy. "Bulma! The back middle lab desk, please! Yamcha, next to Bulma!" Bulma made her way across the room, walking past Vegeta without looking at him. She placed her bag on the top of the black lab desk and watched as the boy known as Yamcha sat down next to her. He had a long scar on his face and he looked like he was having a really crappy day. "Launch, at the back left lab desk! And finally, Videl, next to Launch!" The pregnant teacher turned back to her class. "Well, that's all for today. Everyone, get to know the people you're sitting next to, or talk to a neighbor. Just don't leave your seats and try not to get too loud. I have no plans for today. We start class tomorrow. Bring a pencil and a notebook. That's all."

"Hi there," Yamcha said. Bulma turned to him. "Who are you? I've never seen you around here before."

"Oh, right. I'm Bulma Briefs, and you've never seen me before because I'm new here. I've never been to a high school before. I've been homeschooled my entire life. Well, up until today, that is."

"Wow! That's incredible! I'm sure you'll want me to tell you all about what you should do here. Plus, I can give you tips on how to stay out of trouble if you want. I know all the info on everybody, too. I think we'll be great lab buddies," he joked.

"Sure," Bulma laughed, "Sounds like fun."

So, for the rest of Chemistry, Bulma got to know Yamcha. He was overall, a nice guy, but Bulma concluded that he was too naïve for his own good. Deep down, he was probably a troublemaker, but he seemed nice enough when he was talking to her.

Bulma made her way through the hallways after the next bell had blown out whatever eardrums she had left. He next class was gym, so the room was, thankfully, easy to find. The gym instructors told everyone to bring a change of clothes for tomorrow, but they had today off because it was the first day of the school year, and the students couldn't be responsible for bringing a change of clothes on the first day. Bulma found Chichi again, relaxing on the bleachers. She was leaning against Goku, the guy that Vegeta had been talking to back in Chem.

"Hey! Bulma! Over here!" Chichi waved dramatically and Bulma came running over to her. "Bulma, this is Goku. Goku, this is Bulma." Bulma watched as Goku eyed her suspiciously, but it wasn't enough for Chichi to say anything about it. Then, Vegeta came walking over and sat down next to Goku and Chichi, since she obviously came with the package. He glanced at her for a moment, and then turned around to glare at some people who were staring at him. Or if they were staring at her. Bulma couldn't exactly tell considering the distances and the speed at which they all turned their heads away after receiving a threatening glare from Vegeta.

Bulma sat in silence, not knowing if she should say something, and not knowing if she shouldn't. Chichi and Goku talked for the entire period though, nonstop. They were apparently used to Vegeta being around, because Bulma certainly wasn't. Also, the fact that Goku and Chichi seemed to be currently going out puzzled Bulma. Chichi had called Vegeta the "hottest guy in school," and she was going out with someone who… didn't fit that description…? Not that Bulma thought you should only date guys if they're hot, because she didn't. A person's personality was the big hitter in a long-term relationship. It was just strange to hear the way she talked about Vegeta, and then find out that she had a boyfriend.

Bulma got lost in her thoughts until the next bell reverberated off the walls. Bulma checked her schedule to find that it was finally lunch time. She was never going to get used to not being able to eat her lunch during class. Her parents always let her do that.

"Bulma, do you want to sit by us?" Chichi asked, getting up, off of Goku.

"Sure," Bulma replied, happy that she wouldn't have to look like some moron who couldn't find a group of people to sit with in the cafeteria.

They left the gymnasium and headed for the lunchroom. It was only a few paces away from the farthest side of the gym, so it didn't take very long for them to reach their destination. Bulma could hear her stomach growling at her for food as she opened the big white double-doors. A bunch of different smells hit her right in the face. They practically gave her a nosebleed, they hit her so hard. She eagerly followed Chichi and Goku, hand-in-hand, yet she was still carefully aware that Vegeta was following close behind her. She made sure to remind herself not to turn around so fast, if she had to, like the last time, so as not to run into him again.

"So, ChiChi?" Goku asked, "What are you going to get for lunch?"

"I don't know. I didn't check what was on today's menu this morning. You know, it's the first day back and all. Unlike you, lunch wasn't the first thing on my mind. I was more focused on what classes I had to take and whether or not I got them. Plus, I had to do my hair and pick out an outfit. A girl can't go to her first day back in high school wearing the same old drab clothing she wore last year, now can she?" Bulma overheard the last part of what Chichi had said and looked down at herself. She was wearing the same clothes that she wore last year… Was that bad? Actually, they were the same clothes she wore when she went with her parents to Italy for a big art project and some science fair. And that had been almost three years ago… But she thought her clothes looked fine when she looked in the mirror this morning. Why didn't she think so now? They were, after all, the same exact clothes that she had thrown on in her bedroom before she left for Orange Star High…

Vegeta walked ahead of Bulma, passing her to get in line behind Chichi and Goku. Bulma hadn't realized it until it was too late, but she was standing in everyone's way, staring at all the things that she had been missing in life. Huge banners on every wall. A room full of all sorts of people and food that made you drool. This was nothing like the senior citizens' bingo parties that she used to be dragged to by her parents. This was a bunch of people her age, all eating unhealthy, greasy, deep-fried goodness. Bulma couldn't fathom how she had managed to survive this long into her life without ever going to a high school.

"Are you coming or not?" Vegeta growled at Bulma, a few people cutting in front of her after noticing that they could get away with it, seeing as she wasn't paying a lot of attention to them at the moment.

"Uh… Oh, yeah." She scurried to her place behind Vegeta.

"Hey! New kid! Back of the line! We were here first!" some tall blonde boy yelled at her.

"Oh," Bulma said, stepping out of the line, "I'm sorry." Her arm was grabbed and she turned to find her spiky-haired dream boy's hand on her upper wrist.

"She's with me Sharpner," he told the tall blonde boy in a very bored, but arrogant tone. Bulma was a bit surprised when no one complained about her cutting them off in line after that. Vegeta hadn't even sounded like he was making a threat and they backed off. She found herself liking having him around and regretting not trying her luck at talking to him during gym. Then, he turned to her. "Stand up for yourself," he angrily spat, "I won't watch your back again, woman."

"… Woman?" she asked, but he had already turned around and was ordering his food on the plastic red tray he was given. She was handed a blue tray and discreetly looked over his shoulder to see her selection of food for the evening. There were waffle sticks with bacon, a cup of canned fruit and hash browns. Bulma decided to get everything, seeing as money wasn't really an issue with her. She grabbed a small milk carton and made her way to the cash register, her tray in her hands. She reached into her purse and pulled out a credit card. She handed it to the unnaturally masculine lunch lady, who looked at her as if she had seven heads.

"Listen kid, are you tryin' to be funny, 'cause it ain't workin'. You pay me right or you don't get no stinkin' food from my cafeteria, ya hear?" the snotty lady said bluntly. Bulma noticed that she had horrible 5'o clock shadow and could be mistaken for a man from far away because of it.

"What do you mean?" Bulma asked, titling her head to one side in confusion, "You want cash?"

"Stop foolin' around, kid. You're holdin' up the line. Pay or get outta here, kid."

"But I don't carry cash," Bulma said innocently. All she wanted was her lunch and because she didn't have dollar bills, the school wasn't going to give it to her? That seemed a little unfair in her point of view. If she wanted to pay with a credit card, then maybe the school should have better technology. She considered giving the lady a check, but she didn't have time to think about it for long.

"Here!" Vegeta yelled, officially pissed off at the world. He shoved a ten at the lunch lady and stomped off after Goku and Chichi. "Keep the change!" he called to Bulma, clearly aggravated with her as well. Bulma's face fell as she received the change from the lunch lady. She put it on her tray and slowly followed after the spiky haired teen. She noticed that he walked with a swagger and stopped her brain for a moment just to admire how he made his way to their lunch table.

Fearing being attacked or something, Bulma placed her tray of food next to Chichi, at the end of the white table so no one else could sit next to her on the bench that was attached.

"Wow!" Goku exclaimed, "This looks amazing! I'm going to have to give my thanks to whoever made this stuff!" He eagerly shoved a hash brown into his mouth. "It tastes better than it looks! Wow!"

Bulma saw Vegeta roll his eyes as he popped three pieces of fruit into his mouth all at once. Bulma always found that people looked funny when they ate, and she was raised to know that it was impolite to watch someone eat their food. But she had never believed that someone could look so sexy while stuffing their face. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have never believed it. Knowing that if she was caught staring, she was dead, Bulma looked at her own tray of food. She picked up her fork and played with her waffle sticks. Then she remembered that, technically, Vegeta had paid for her lunch and a couple more to come in the near future. So she decided that it would be smart to just eat the damn food without playing with it. She didn't want him to think that she was ungrateful by toying with her food and then wasting it. She shoved the waffle stick coated with syrup into her mouth.

The clock reminded her that she was pressed for time. That was another thing she would have to get used to: having a time limit for how long she could eat. She guessed that it was plenty of time for her to have two meals or more, but she was never good with time limits. They put unwanted pressure on her shoulders. She popped another syrup-coated waffle stick into her mouth, glancing at the clock one last time before putting her head back down.

"If you don't want it, then don't eat it," Vegeta growled at her. Bulma looked up at him and quickly decided that somewhere along the line, his mood had turned from bad to pure evil. She hoped that it wasn't her fault. Stupid credit card, she thought, what in the world was I thinking?! Of course they would want cash. I'm such an idiot! Who uses a credit card to buy lunch at a high school? An idiot, that's who! I feel so stupid! How could I make such a thoughtless mistake?! UGH!

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, not knowing how to avoid being hated by the divine creature that was now angry with her. She pushed her plate away, showing that she wasn't going to eat anything else for the rest of the period.

"I didn't mean…" he said, and then stopped himself, "Do you want it or not?!" he glowered.

"I…" Bulma didn't know what the correct response was to that question. What could she say? What should she say? And then she thought about what she would say if she wasn't in a high school. What she would say if she was still homeschooled by her parents and a boy asked her the same question that Vegeta had, despite the fact that Vegeta was the most intimidating person she had ever met in her entire life. "Yeah," she said softly, bringing her tray back to its rightful place in front of her. And without another word, she turned her head away from him and shoved another waffle stick into her mouth.

Chichi looked over at her with a concerned expression on her face. She then glanced at Vegeta, who was no longer looking their way. His eyes were fixed on the table to the left of his plate so that he wouldn't have to see anyone.

"Hey, Bulma? Mind if I see your schedule? I want to see if we have any other classes together," she asked, removing her curious eyes from Vegeta. He was, strangely, not so angry anymore.

"Oh, sure," Bulma replied, turning to reach inside her bag for the pack of papers she had received in the beginning of the day at the main office. She found her schedule and pulled it out, careful not to rip it in half or anything. She handed it to Chichi, who already had her own schedule in her other hand.

After a few moments of scanning over the two papers, Chichi looked up with a bit of a smile on her face.

"Well, you'll have to wait two more periods, but we have Art class together; it's last period. Goku has the same thing. And…" Chichi approached the subject matter cautiously, "so does Vegeta. Goku and I aren't in your next two classes, though. I don't know… Vegeta's full schedule… Sorry," she casually shrugged, involuntarily putting an arm around Goku's waist as he continued to eat. Bulma didn't know that it was possible for one boy to eat so much in so little time.

The next bell rang a few minutes later, and everyone was released from their seats and ordered to their next classes. It was now period seven.

Bulma looked her schedule over, hoping that maybe she could memorize her final classes so she wouldn't have to look at her schedule again for the rest of the day. Right after she knew where she was currently going, and after her schedule was neatly folded into her bag, she knew that it would be impossible. She would have to look at her schedule for her next to periods as well. It was clearly inevitable for her to have to look it over for the rest of the day.

History was Bulma's seventh period class. As soon as she found and entered the classroom, her name was called from some back seat. The sun was shining from the window behind the person calling her, so she couldn't see exactly who it was until she got a little closer. The long scar revealed that it was Yamcha. He saved her a seat… Bulma was grateful, but something else inside her was a bit creeped out by the gesture.

"Hey, Bulma! Over here, girl!" Bulma's face flushed a bit as she quickly made her way to the reserved seat.

"Thank you," she said shyly, not sure how to respond to something so… outright.

"No problem," he smiled, "I'm so glad you're in this class. I was a bit worried that none of my friends would be in here with me. You have no idea how much of a relief it was when I first saw you enter the room. Phew, it was like an air conditioner on a hot summer night. You know what I mean?" he laughed at his own comment, and Bulma forced herself to do the same, seeing as he did save her a seat, and was someone to talk to so she wouldn't be alone. She would rather have Yamcha than no one at all. That was for sure.

She noticed that less people were staring at her now that the news was old. She guessed that it also had something to do with the fact that she was sitting next to Yamcha. She could finally understand what "nerd" meant. Well, without the part about being smart. He just didn't give off the vibes for being a true "nerd". She tried to think of the other high school groups she had found out about while doing some research a few days before she arrived at Orange Star High, but couldn't remember all the names for them. Then she felt guilty for labeling people, so she just stopped altogether.

"I think Mr. Gohan is the teacher for this class," Yamcha said, looking over his schedule and pointing to the name of the class. The name Mr. Gohan was above it, so Bulma didn't reply, thinking that his eyes could respond to the statement in her place. Then she wondered if he was just trying to hold a conversation, so she quickly changed her mind.

"Yeah, that's what it says on your schedule," she said, reaching over to point to the name, "Right there, see?"

"Oh," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Geez, I must have missed it. Oops."

"Alright class," Mr. Gohan said, silencing the students in the room. Everyone's conversations abruptly came to a close as Mr. Gohan stood and walked to the front of the room. "Hello, my name is Mr. Gohan," he began. But then the door was whipped open.

"But why?!" a girl's whiny voice wailed from the outside as a familiar spiky haired teen entered the room and slammed the door shut. Mr. Gohan jumped at the loud noise. Vegeta didn't notice Bulma, but he found his way to an open seat in the left row and slammed his books on top of the desk, causing Mr. Gohan to startle once again. People around Vegeta were carefully looking at the markings on their desks, deeply involved in whatever shapes and colors were created by someone who had been seated there before. Mr. Gohan adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat and continued.

"I guess, since it's the first day of school, I'll just dismiss… any lates for today… in case you couldn't find the classroom… As I was saying before, my name is Mr. Gohan, and this is your US History 2 class for the year. I'll begin by taking attendance, and then we could play a little game if you guys want to." He made his way back to his desk and picked up a piece of paper. He called Bulma's name first, seeing as her last name started with a "B" for Briefs.

After everyone's name had been called and placed as either present or absent, Mr. Gohan came back to the front of the classroom.

"Okay, class. We're going to play a game to get to know each other. We'll go in the order of the desks, row by row, and you'll each say something about yourself. It can be anything you want… but keep it PG13 please," he added thoughtfully, "And when everyone has gone, we'll just start over and present new information about ourselves, okay?"

The class whined and complained except for a few people in the front who looked to be excited about the opportunity to tell people about themselves. Bulma rolled her eyes at the game. She felt that people knew too much about her already, and she had only been here for less than a full day of school.

"You," Mr. Gohan said happily, pointing to a brown-haired girl in the front in the left row. "You can go first.

"… Well… I…"

Bulma didn't bother to listen. She turned to Yamcha, feeling the need to be preoccupied, just like everyone else as the brown-haired girl began to give a fact about herself.

"So, how long have you gone to this school?" she asked him. He turned to look at her, clearly happy that she was talking to him. She tried to remember the names of the high school groups that she had looked up again, but still couldn't remember the one that she believed Yamcha fit into.

"I've lived in Satan City my entire life. I went to elementary school right down the street from where I live and I went to preschool on the other side of the city. So I haven't been anywhere but here, actually," he replied, smirking and rubbing the back of his neck again.

"That must be nice… Not having to go anywhere, I mean."

"That's funny."

"What's funny?"

"That you find my life nice. I would give anything to be able to be homeschooled by my parents. It must have been a good life for you. Nicer than mine, if you don't mind me saying so."

"No, I don't mind. My mother used to tell me that people are never satisfied with what they have. Another example from how we lived that my mother told me was when people dye their hair. They aren't happy with whatever color they were given, so they always want to dye it."

"Your hair isn't dyed," Yamcha pointed out.

"Well, maybe that's because my mother told me that most people don't like what they've got. I always tried to be different, so I guess that made me happy with my own hair. I don't think I would ever want it to be a different color. I'm pretty satisfied with everything I was given. I wouldn't change anything about me if I was ever given the option… I like me," she said, smiling. Yamcha smiled back.

"You're next," Mr. Gohan said, pointing to Vegeta. Bulma looked up, as did everyone else in the room.

"Pass," he stated flatly.

"We're playing a game. You should participate," Mr. Gohan said.

"Pass," he repeated forcefully, putting his head down on his desk. Mr. Gohan tisked and pointed to the boy sitting behind the spiky haired teen to take his turn next.

"I heard about you bumping into Vegeta this morning," Yamcha whispered.

"So?" Bulma asked, forcing herself not to be so uptight about the subject.

"I think it's about time someone showed that guy that other people aren't afraid of him. It's even better because you're a girl. And a pretty tough one at that," he added.

"Well, I didn't think of it like that when I hit him. I didn't even know who he was at the time… I actually thought he was pretty nice," she replied, not wanting to say anything bad about the boy she was currently trying to get acquainted with. It also appeared that he had a bad reputation with some of the other boys in the school. The only thing that crossed her mind was that Yamcha was jealous. He obviously didn't have Vegeta's looks or physical fitness. That probably meant that he couldn't even come close to comparing to Vegeta's physical ability. And if she was aware of anything from her talk with Chichi second period, it was that a school was like the animal world. The most powerful boy was the Alpha Male of the school and the most attractive girl was the bitch of the school. She had also learned from Chichi about the lower classes, middle classes, higher classes and another group referred to as the royalties. If what Chichi said was true, then Vegeta and a girl named Maron were the head of the royalty class. If she wasn't mistaken, Maron was the name of the girl that she had described as ditzy…. The one that was put between her and Vegeta in Chemistry class. An involuntary and yet silent growl erupted at the base of her throat. She liked her body's response to the threat. Maybe should could fit into this jungle better than she thought.

"You give him credit that he doesn't deserve, Bulma," Yamcha said, "He's not a good person. I'd advise you to stay away from him. He only knows what it means to hurt people. He can never be a good friend. He's not trustworthy. He's trash. That's all he is. Just trash. Trust me."

"Miss?" Mr. Gohan asked, "It's your turn."

"Oh," Bulma started, "I'm sorry. My name is Bulma and I…" Bulma paused, and then said the first thing that came to mind. It was also the thing that most people found of interest. "I have been homeschooled for my entire life. This is my first day of real school."

"And how's that goin' for ya?" a boy called to her. Bulma looked over, but didn't know who asked the question. She noticed Vegeta look up for a moment at the question. Bulma faced Mr. Gohan and answered instead of trying to find out who the question's owner was.

"It's… interesting, I guess. There are a lot of things that I've never encountered before here."

"Well, you can come encounter me if you'd like," the same voice said, and Bulma looked over in time to catch who had said it. It was the same boy that had yelled at her for cutting him in the lunch line. Sharpner, if she remembered correctly, was his name. "And then you'll encounter a bunch of new things," he added, and a few other boys that looked to be his cronies whistled at the apparently, double-meaning comment.

"That's enough, Sharpner," Mr. Gohan said harshly, and Bulma wondered what they had meant from the comment and why they had whistled after it had been said. She had never heard something like that before. Was it supposed to be offensive in some way? Was it directed at her? Were they making fun of her? Did Mr. Gohan reprimand them because they were insulting him instead? Bulma had no idea. She glanced over at Vegeta to find a scowl on his face, and it was directed at Sharpner. Bulma wondered what they had meant. Vegeta's reaction made her feel like she needed to know what she had missed. "Thank you, Miss Bulma. You there," he said, pointing to Yamcha, "You can go next."

Yamcha smiled and stood up, ready to address the class. Bulma raised a fine eyebrow, wondering why he would stand up.

"Sit down, Yammy!" a boy mockingly screeched from their right. Bulma looked over and glared at the black haired boy. He was one of the boys who had whistled before. "This ain't no comedy act!" And then he burst out laughing at his own lame joke, his buddies laughing at his side. Bulma watched as Yamcha's face went red and he sat back down.

"I think I'll pass," he said softly, and Bulma threw him an apologetic look.

"Will you boys be quiet?" Mr. Gohan reprimanded again. "I'm sorry for the interference," he said to Yamcha, "You may continue. These immature boys won't interrupt you anymore."

As Yamcha made to open his mouth, the bell rang for the class to be over and he embarrassedly watched as the group of "immature boys" exited the classroom, chanting something and then laughing absurdly about whatever they had said, flinging their arms into the air as they did so. Yamcha swiftly got up and left before Bulma could get a chance to stop him.

She pulled out her neatly folded schedule and looked at her next class. It was Spanish in room number fifty-four. She had no idea where that was, so she just made a right out of the classroom she had previously occupied and went down a hallway that she hadn't yet gone down. She spotted the familiar spiky black hair a few yards ahead of her in the crowd and followed after it, hoping to dear God that she wouldn't make a fool out of herself. She watched as he continued down the hallway. Up ahead, Bulma spotted room number fifty-four and mentally leaped for joy. But then he continued forward and entered room number fifty-five and Bulma's heart dropped into her stomach. She solemnly entered her classroom and noticed no one that she recognized. A part of her was glad that Yamcha wasn't in this class, but then she wondered if he was skipping because of what had happened. She mentally labeled him as a Drama Queen, fully aware that he was a boy. Although it was rude and inappropriate for those boys to make fun of him, Bulma labeled him as a queen because she thought that only girls cried. Boys swung a few punches and then they became best friends. She guessed that there were probably quite a few male Drama Queens in a high school, especially this one. It was just her luck that one happened to take a liking to her.

She sighed and sat down in the faraway seat in the back right corner of the room. She felt like this would be a nice class to be isolated in. She had made enough friends to last her more than one lifetime, and she knew that more would probably be suicide. She wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep on her king-sized bed in her room fit for a princess… or two… or three. She mentally shrugged to herself.

The class passed by slowly. Because it was the first day, there was no work that was assigned. The teacher took attendance and then ignored the class for the next half an hour. She noted how Yamcha's name wasn't called so decided that he wasn't skipping. She felt bad about feeling the way she did, but it was pleasant having a period where no one could bother her about useless stuff like insults and… Drama. She was already sick and tired of it, and now she realized that she'd have to deal with it seven hours a day, five days a week. She could feel some nausea coming on.

After boredom had almost killed her, Bulma was surprisingly rejuvenated by the horrible high-pitched sound of the school bell. She was glad that her last period class was Art, and she was also happy that Goku and Chichi were in that class with her. The fact that Vegeta was also there made her nerves flinch, but she tried not to let it bother her too much.

She made her way to her last room. She had passed it before so it had been relatively easy to locate.

"Bulma!" Chichi exclaimed, running over to her as soon as she entered the room. "We're sitting over here. Come on," she urged, pushing her forward.

Bulma found everyone sitting at the giant wooden desk. There were also a couple new people sitting with them. She had heard from behind her that their art class was held in the woodshop, so the metal stools and thick wooden tables that looked more like islands were sort of expected in her point of view.

She found Vegeta complaining to Goku again about something. He looked to be in a better mood though, which was a good sign. But he had complained in Chemistry as well. She wondered what was on his mind. She knew that it didn't take much to bother him, but he seemed to get over things relatively quickly. Except for whatever he was currently talking about.

"It's Maron," Chichi whispered, noticing her watching Bulma stare at Vegeta and Goku.

"What?" she asked, breaking her concentration and turning to the black-haired girl who apparently had the answers she was looking for.

"Maron has been trying to get Vegeta to go out with him all day," she giggled, "She refuses to leave him alone. She's been following him around and pestering him all day long. I just figured that out last period from Goku. I knew something had to be wrong. Vegeta usually isn't in this bad of a mood. I mean, he's always a bit irritating with his temper and all, but he's not usually so nasty to everyone, especially us, because we're his friends. The only person he hasn't yelled at all day is Goku, and that's if you consider the yelling that he's doing now… well, not yelling, I guess. That's kind of usual… for Vegeta…" Chichi just stopped talking, at a loss for words at that point. Bulma guessed that there was just no accurate way to describe a person like Vegeta. But Maron? That was some interesting news indeed…

The teacher took attendance, like in every other class, and then let everyone talk their hearts out.

"Hey guys," Chichi said to the two people that were unknown to Bulma, "This is Bulma. Bulma, meet Tien and 18."

"Hi Bulma," Tien said. He raised a hand in greeting. 18 just nodded at her, clearly showing that she wasn't the talking type of person. Bulma admired her beautiful blonde hair, which was obviously natural. Goku and Vegeta came over to the table as well after attendance. Goku looked like he had just run a couple miles. Bulma softly giggled. She mentally joked that Vegeta's complaining wore him out a bit.

"I'm having a party on Friday," Chichi said, motioning to Bulma, "Everyone is going to be there. You want to come? I'm officially inviting you," she smiled.

Bulma curiously took in the information. She had never been to a party with teenagers. She had read about things like that in stories, and had often thought about going to one, but she never believed that she would actually be invited. The second thing that crossed her mind was that when Chichi said "everyone", did she mean "everyone"?

A party with Vegeta. She could envision it quite clearly. With all the movies she'd seen and the stories she'd read, parties were where true love blossomed.

She shook her head vigorously. What in the world was she thinking? True love? Bleh. That's what she had to say about that. And what the hell was true love anyway? Just something people made up to put in their stories. And why did she think of Vegeta? It wasn't like she loved him. She barely knew the guy, and what she did know about him was that he was prideful, arrogant and had a short temper. That wasn't love…

"I'll see if I can come. I might be busy this Friday," Bulma replied, not wanting to let her friend down immediately. The main reason for her response was to give herself a way out if she decided that she didn't want to go after considering whether or not it would be okay for someone like her to go.

"I hope you can," Chichi mock-whined, bending her legs a bit for exaggeration. "It will be so much fun. I promise. You'll love it." Chichi then turned to Vegeta, figuring that if she wanted Bulma to be there… "Hey, Vegeta? Are you coming this Friday?"

Vegeta's head turned in her direction. Bulma saw a firm scowl placed on his face. She then noticed Chichi's face go a bit pinker than usual. Had she missed something?

After a couple minutes of silence passed by and the regular color came back to Chichi's face, everyone at their table went back to talking to one another. Bulma, craving for her curiosity to be satiated, leaned towards Chichi.

"What was that all about?" she asked, hoping she wouldn't get an "Oh, nothing" kind of answer from the black-haired girl.

"Well," Chichi muttered, careful not to let anyone hear her speaking about something that was obviously labeled as forbidden when it came to daily conversation topics. "18 had a party a year or so ago, and I guess I forgot about that when I asked Vegeta if he wanted to come to my party this Friday." Bulma raised her eyebrows in anticipation, edging Chichi to spill every bit of the information she was aware of. "I don't know how to put it without… Let's just say that he had a little too much alcohol that night…"

"What happened?!" Bulma blurted out. She embarrassedly turned around to see if anyone was staring at her, especially Vegeta, to find that they were all too engrossed in their own gossip to really care when one person yelled out the most common phrase when talking about things involving gossip.

"I don't quite remember all the details. I only heard about it. I wasn't in the same room when it happened. Actually, I think Goku and I had left the party early because he had to be somewhere before midnight. So, naturally, I went with him. But what I heard was that he did something that literally, like completely solidified his position in our school. You know, like him being a big shot and all. Not to mention with the girls." She stuck out her tongue in disgust, especially with Maron at that moment in time. "And everything else I heard just revolves around the fact that everyone but Vegeta thinks that a mix with him and being drunk go hand-in-hand… I guess…"

Bulma didn't know what to say to get Chichi to keep talking, so she sat there, on her metal stool, leaning on the wooden table, with her mouth slightly open, saying nothing.

"Other than that," Chichi continued, seeing as Bulma was dying for more information, "The only thing I can think of is that he was mostly showing off. Apparently, he's strong. And I don't mean "going to the weight room everyday" strong. I mean unnaturally strong. It was like he was a different type of breed or something. I don't even know how to say it. It's like he's Superman, you know. That's why everyone's always staying out of his way. That's why all the girls are basically in love with him. He did something that, after he realized that he had been drunk, he knew he shouldn't have done. And, like usual, the entire school already knew about it."

"You're joking, right?" Bulma asked, not believing the entire story. And besides, Chichi had only heard it from someone else. It wasn't like she actually saw what happened, because she just admitted that she hadn't seen anything. She had left the party early.

"No. I swear, every word is true… And just between you and me… I know about his… abilities because he helped me build my shed a few months before the party. I tried to figure out what he did to give himself away like that. I mean, it must have been something pretty obvious to get the entire school to know about it. So I asked him about it, but he wouldn't tell me. So I had to go to 18 to figure it out, and guess what she told me. Guess what he did."

"What? What did he do?" Bulma asked, about to fall off of her seat.

"You're not going to believe this… He did pushups."

"… Huh? But… everyone can do pushups. Hell, even I can do pushups, Chichi. That doesn't tell me anything!"

"Hold on. I'm not done yet. You want to know how many he did?"

Bulma nodded.

"He did one thousand, seven hundred and eighty-five pushups. And that's not all," she quickly added. "You want to know what he did after that?"

Bulma nodded so hard she thought her neck was going to snap right in half.

"Well, Maron was drunk as well at that point in the night. I think it was almost one in the morning by then. She grabbed a bunch of her friends (I think it was four or five of them) and they all sat on Vegeta's back while he did one thousand, seven hundred and eighty-six more pushups, just to prove his point. And that's not all…"

Bulma wanted to scream at her to just tell her. The anticipation was eating away at her lifespan. She felt like she would suffocate if Chichi didn't tell her fast.

"And?" she pressed.

"This is the reason why he won't go to parties anymore."

"Just tell me, Chichi. Please!"

"Don't worry. I'm getting there. Settle down, Bulma."

Chichi adjusted herself on her metal stool and Bulma felt like ripping out the girl's fucking windpipe and going to ask someone else. Preferably someone who didn't pause after every sentence to make sure they had Bulma's undivided and full attention, even when they knew that they had it. She then had to officially label Chichi as the top gossiper in the high school. It was only expected, considering the mind games she was currently playing with Bulma.

"Maron danced topless on Vegeta's back while he did one thousand, seven hundred and eighty-seven more pushups on top of the dinner table, just to prove his third point. And, hell, Maron didn't even have her bra on. Can you believe that? I sure couldn't at first. Well, anyway, ever since then, Maron's been, like stalking Vegeta. She thinks that because he did that and a few other things with the bitch while he was drunk that night that he's in love with her or something. All Vegeta really wants is to be left alone. Ever since then, everyone's been bothering him about it. Girls have constantly bothered him and boys have started fights because of many different reasons. Some have inferiority issues and tried to hurt him thinking that the stories weren't true, or that they wanted to be known as "the guy who beat up Vegeta". Apparently they set their hopes and dreams way too high for themselves. Big mistake that was. A few of those types never even came back to the school. Either they were too embarrassed or too afraid. One guy even tried to kill him because his girlfriend dumped him just so she could hang around Vegeta, who actually had no interest in her whatsoever. Sheesh, the guy even brought in a knife. That was an even bigger mistake than the first one, though. Vegeta isn't one for rules and regulations, if you know what I mean." She looked over one last time to see if Vegeta knew what they were talking about, but he was still preoccupied, what with complaining about Maron bothering him again to a worn-out Goku.

"Wait a second," Bulma said, catching onto something Chichi had slightly mentioned beforehand. "You said that the pushups with Maron… you know, dancing on top of him, wasn't the only thing he did with her. What else did he do?"

Just then, the bell rang for the day to be over, and as Chichi opened her mouth to answer Bulma's question, Goku took her by the hand and pulled her away. She didn't look back as the two of them exited the door and went out into the hallway. She then followed Tien out the door and made her way to the front lobby and then the parking lot. Her bright white car was easy to spot, and she had no problem getting into it. There still weren't any other cars parked around her parking space, which was nice. She also noted how the sky had cleared up. She looked above and found that no clouds were above her. The entire sky was covered with a light blue hue that seemed to brighten up the day in more ways than one.

I guess Mother Nature decided not to be a bitch today, Bulma thought.

She got into her car and began the short ride home with Vegeta on her mind.