Chapter Two: No Answer
Bulma sat up in her bed. The light blue sheets had no stains on them. To be honest, last night was only the second time she had even slept on them. That also meant that it was the mattress's second time being slept on as well. It hadn't yet adjusted to the full shape of her, but Bulma knew that all good things came in due time. And that included being able to fit in the perfectly snug dent in a brand new mattress.
Bulma looked around. Basically everything in the entire house was new. She looked over at her unpacked bags. Most of her things had been set up the day before last, but there were still a few packs that were left undisturbed.
It was about six in the morning. Bulma enjoyed getting up early, and because of her unsatisfied boredom the night before, she had gone to bed early. It was nice not having loads of homework on her first day at school. Her parents used to give her little vacations throughout the year as a break from her work, but when they started up again, her mother was fond of "getting her back into the flow of things," as she liked to put it. Her father felt the same way, but he never openly admitted it, especially in front of Bulma's mother. Sometimes, she had issues with credit for things, and people found it best to just let her do her own thing and keep her own ideas for herself. Bulma used to make fun of her mother by saying that her favorite color was the same as her mother's, even when she would purposefully change it daily just to try and get away from whatever color Bulma had claimed was her favorite for the day.
Bulma giggled softly and made her way to her bathroom pack. An ordinary person would have called her insane with such a huge bag for only bathroom stuff, but Bulma wasn't an ordinary person. Besides, the essentials were sometimes different in her point of view, especially when it came to bathroom stuff.
At the top of the stairs was a master bathroom, fit for a princess. She dropped her pack in the middle of the room, which could easily fit over fifteen people inside. She unzipped the zipper and pulled out the first couple items that she had put in last when she packed. Three orange rugs were placed on the floor two under each sink, connected by a light tan marble counter, and one the fit around the foot of the toilet. She then went back to her pack and noticed that there were no more rugs. The mansion had four bathrooms in it, but she was living alone until her parents stopped by for visits every now and again. So, she decided that she would only use this one. It would also be a lot less to clean.
Bulma was alone to unpack and get settled as she pleased, a feat she thought would have been nearly impossible at that time. It felt nice to be alone though. She didn't have to smile at anyone or look pleased that someone was keeping her company. And the silence was as loud as she could handle. Bulma noticed when a few tears escaped from her. She would miss her parents. She couldn't even remember the last time she had been without them, if she ever had to begin with.
She pulled out her multitudes of shampoo. It was a bit hard to find the right kind for naturally blue hair… There was a big cabinet that fit all of her showering things quite nicely. She opened the cabinets below the sinks and shoved in a few creams, lotions, deodorant, tampons, razors, soaps, hand soap containers, powder, and anything else she found in her pack. She then took out a nail and a hammer, since she knew she would need it for something else, and hammered the piece of metal into the wall. She grabbed a small cabinet that had been a gift from an aunt and hung it on the nail. The small wooden frame was hand-painted by her aunt. It was covered in paintings of different seashells. Bulma involuntarily smiled at the thoughtful gift.
She dug through her pack until she found a smaller pack and pulled it out. It took a bit of force, but she got it out eventually. Inside were her makeup and other things along those lines. She pulled out her six different tubes of mascara, liquid and powder cover-up, every color eye shadow, different shades of pink blush and liquid and pencil eyeliner. Looking over her belongings, she thought that many people would give a lot for the material things she had. Looking over her belongings again, she decided that she probably wouldn't use them that much anyway. In her point of view, there was way too much stuff for just her. Maybe she'd give some of them to Chichi. She would most likely appreciate it, and most of Bulma's things were unopened anyway, so no harm there.
She went back to her room and checked the time. It was six-thirty. School started at about seven-thirty, but people started arriving at about seven-fifteen. She changed her clothes into a dusky purple, hundred-percent cotton t-shirt and a regular pair of blue jeans. Looking over the white stains on her knees, she remembered that these were the pants that she had worn to Egypt when her mother was called down there to analyze some historical artwork. The white stains were from bending down in the hot sand. She smiled at the memory of her mother being heavily thanked for her outstanding and unexpected work on the project. She remembered how proud she had been of her mother in that moment.
She quickly opened the old pine dresser from when her mother had bought it for her only a few weeks ago and pulled out gym clothing. She shoved it into her pack and continued thinking about random things.
Orange Star High School had a frightening total of about three thousand students. Bulma had been told that some schools were large, population-wise, but three thousand hormone-stricken teenagers was a mouthful to swallow.
She added a light blue bird-of-hope necklace that rested directly below the dip in her throat as a final addition to her outfit. She threw on some socks, grabbed her pack and headed back to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair. When that was finished, she lifted her pack off the orange rug and made her way down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen. It was now almost seven, so she decided to skip breakfast. She grabbed some cash off the hutch in the dining room and looked at it. It was the change from yesterday's lunch. The change from the lunch that Vegeta had paid for… She let slip one final heartfelt smile until she pulled on some sneakers and was out the door in a flash.
She got into her car and checked the time after she had started the engine of the small white vehicle. Part of her just wanted to drive her normal red mustang convertible to school, but soon realized that it wouldn't actually be all that normal.
It was seven-ten. Bulma stepped on the gas pedal and began the short drive to Hell.
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"Hey! Bulma, over here!" Chichi called. Bulma looked over as she stepped out of the small car, banging her head on the ceiling as she reached for her shoulder bag. She rubbed the top of her head as she closed the door and walked over to her waving, black-haired friend. Goku was, of course, with her as they held hands in the parking lot. Tien and 18 from the day before were also standing there. And so were a couple others that Bulma hadn't met before. She sighed when Vegeta was nowhere in sight.
"Hi, Chichi," Bulma said as she got closer to the group of friends. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and looked at the new people. Well, new to her at least.
"Bulma," Chichi said, waving a hand in the others' direction, "This is Krillin, 17, who is 18's brother, Raditz, and Launch."
"Pleased to meet you all. My name's Bulma," she greeted them, slightly bowing her head out of habit.
"The pleasure is mine," 17 said, lifting and kissing her hand. Bulma blushed.
"Cut it out, 17," 18 ordered, "You're nauseating her." Bulma silently wondered what kind of relationship the two siblings had with each other. Her first reaction was that it was an odd pair. She glanced at Raditz, who nodded his acknowledgement at her. She recognized Launch from her Chemistry class the day before. She had been placed at the last lab desk with another girl, to the far left of Bulma and Yamcha's table.
Thinking of Yamcha made her turn around and nonchalantly look for him. When she didn't find him anywhere outside in the parking lot, she wondered if he was okay. Those boys had been really mean to him back in their history class.
"Vegeta!" Chichi called, waving an arm and snapping Bulma out of her search. As soon as she turned around and saw him, swinging a leg over a black motorcycle, she had forgotten all about Yamcha. If she hadn't had such excellent control over herself, she might have actually drooled at the sight of him in all his magnificent glory.
Vegeta pulled off his black leather jacket and swaggered over to them, not bothering to even lock his shiny black ride against the metal fence ahead of his parking space. His jacket was swung over the seat and he just left it there. Swinging the keys into his pocket, he finally reached them. Bulma thought that watching him walk towards her had taken over an hour. She also guessed that the reason why he would just leave his things there was because not even the toughest guy in school would dare try and steal anything from him. Well… the second toughest. Vegeta couldn't exactly steal his own belongings, now could he?
The bell instantly rang as Vegeta arrived next to them, causing Bulma to jump. The first thing that crossed her mind was that her and Vegeta had the same first period together, so maybe they could… walk together? She knew that she would never get the real answer just by mentally asking herself. But she also knew that she was too chicken to ask actually ask Vegeta if he'd walk with her. She would end up passing out before the words even came up her throat.
"Are you coming," an aggravated voice called, and Bulma turned to find that everyone was heading into the building. Vegeta was turned towards her a few yards away with the usual annoyed expression on his face. Bulma's heart skipped a beat. At least she didn't have to worry about asking him any longer. She felt deeply honored to have been asked by him. It felt much better than if she would have asked him herself. Even if his answer had been yes.
"Yeah, I'm coming," she said, readjusting her pack again and jogging towards him. When she caught up, he turned and began walking again. "Sorry about that," she said, "I just wasn't paying very good attention."
"That depends on what was holding your attention, woman," he said flatly, not turning to look at her as he spoke, "Or whom." Bulma blushed. She hoped she hadn't been that obvious about it.
Thoughts of the previous day entered her mind. Vegeta held the schools front door open for her as she walked under his outstretched arm. He followed in after her and scowled as soon as he entered.
"What wrong?" Bulma asked.
"Our class is this way," he said, pointing in the opposite direction that she was heading.
"Oh…" she replied, turning on her heel and following after him. She noticed how she now had to pick up her own pace to keep up with his. AKA, she noted how he sped up when he was annoyed with her. She took the mental note and placed it in the back of her mind.
The next thing she noticed was how everyone was staring at her again. Actually, they were more like glares and glowers. She watched as some dreamy-eyed girls watched Vegeta as he ignored them and walked by, Bulma in tow. She also began to notice how some of the boys no longer backed out of Vegeta's way. Instead, they were intently watching her, as the girls did to Vegeta. She wondered what something like that could mean. Had hanging out with Vegeta and his friends put her in the higher class society of high school?
"Hey, Vegeta!" a boy called, and Bulma turned to find that it was Sharpner, the blonde pretty-boy that she hadn't grown too fond of over the past twenty-four hours. She saw Vegeta's expression change from bad to worse, the same as he did yesterday to her at the lunch table. She wondered if Maron was still bothering him about going out on a date. Part of her sort of wanted to set that girl straight. It was clear as day that Vegeta felt bothered by her, especially by his horrible attitude when entering history class.
"Oh, great," Bulma heard him mumble. "Is that the sound of an idiot I hear?" he asked himself, a little louder so everyone around him could hear the satirical question.
"Vegeta! I have to talk to you!" Sharpner said, and Bulma thought she heard a threat in his voice, but she couldn't have been sure. Besides, what had Vegeta ever done to him anyway?
Sharpner's hand made contact with Vegeta's shoulder and he turned the spiky-haired teen around with force not to be reckoned with. It was more like he tried and Vegeta had turned around out of his own free will, not by any force whatsoever.
"You know, I think it was the sound of me not caring." Vegeta shoved Sharpner's hand off of his shoulder and grabbed Bulma's upper arm, dragging her along with him to their first period class. She stumbled a bit at first, but soon found the perfect speed for her to walk at without being dragged on the floor of the hallway.
"Vegeta," Bulma yelped, feeling a painful tug on her shoulder, "Please, stop. You're hurting me." She thought it might have actually popped out if she hadn't said something. And luckily, he let go of her without having to throw her anywhere first.
They came to room number thirty-five and entered the room. Most of the seats were taken, but apparently everyone knew to stay out of Vegeta's seat. Bulma was a bit surprised to find her own seat was unoccupied as well. She decided that their seats from the previous day were probably the ones every teen had chosen to be their seat for the rest of the year. Her heart skipped another short beat at the thought that she got to sit next to her dream boy for the entire year. And at the rate her heart was skipping beats, she was going to be dead soon.
Bulma dropped her bag at the tiled floor below her metal chair as Vegeta walked around the black table to get to his seat on the left side of her. Bulma sat down and waited.
After the second bell rang, Mr. Piccolo entered the classroom, holding a pile of papers.
"Ms. Briefs!" he called, "Since you got the highest grade in the class, you get to pass out everyone's graded pop quizzes from yesterday. Congratulations."
Bulma got up from her seat, wincing at the loud noise it made when the metal chair scraped against the tiled floor. No one else cared, but she felt her face turn a bit redder than usual. She tried to look graceful as she stepped down to grab the papers off Mr. Piccolo's desk, but knew that she was failing epically at her own self-made challenge. So, she instead decided on compelling her face to stay the same color that it had originally been.
"Thank you," Bulma said when Mr. Piccolo lifted the pile up for her to grab without looking at her. She saw him slightly nod, but nothing else.
As she had expected, her paper was on top of the pile. She went to her seat and dropped it off, glancing at the one hundred percent on the top, next to her name. The second paper was Vegeta's. He had been given a ninety-eight. She wondered which question he had gotten wrong, but didn't dare look like she wanted to know. She handed him his paper and looked at the next one. It belonged to a girl named Angela. She looked around the room, fully realizing the extent of what this task entailed. She would have to learn everyone's name. And fast.
"Right there." Vegeta pointed past her. "Pink shirt, orange hair," he said, refocusing on his quiz. Bulma knew it was deliberate.
"Oh, thanks," Bulma replied, walking over to Angela and handing her the quiz. Bulma didn't mean to look at the grade, but she noticed that the grade was a forty-six. She felt bad for the orange-haired girl, but mentally laughed at how smart she was in comparison. "Do you know who this is?" Bulma asked Angela, and she was given the answer. And that was how she passed out all the quizzes. She asked the person she was handing the quiz to who the next person was, and so on. It was a miracle that everybody knew everybody else… except for her, of course.
When all the quizzes were handed out to everyone, Bulma returned to her seat and sighed at the stupid adventure she had just been forced to endure.
Mr. Piccolo stood up in front of the class and looked around for a moment. He was throwing a rubber band ball up and down in one hand as he glanced at everyone, locking eyes with every student in the room, gathering up everyone's attention. Bulma wished he would just drop the damn thing already and give everyone a reason to be happy again. The aura in the room was absolutely horrible. She mentally joked on if the cause was Mr. Piccolo or Vegeta. Each was highly likely in her point of view.
"All right, you little worms," he began, taking Bulma by surprise at the insult. Weren't teachers not supposed to do stuff like that? she thought, almost out loud. "Your grades for my class are extremely low, so you're going to have to pay attention very carefully from now on. I know you're upset about that quiz we just had, but I promise that it won't count for that much if you get outstanding grades from here on out. But, if you shirkers decide to slack off, then you'll pay for it, I swear." Bulma gulped. And she was the person with the highest grade in the class. She felt bad for everyone else. This was the strictest teacher she had yet encountered, by far. She didn't have a problem with getting outstanding grades, as he had put it. That wasn't an issue in the slightest. It was the fact that he hadn't taught the rest of the class the information before he handed out the quizzes. Was he going to do that all year? God, she hoped not. Even she had her limits when it came to knowledge. Another thought that entered her mind was that if Vegeta's grades started to go down, he would be in even worse of a mood than usual, and it would be constant. She could feel the headache coming on already.
For the rest of class, Mr. Piccolo wrote things down on the board while everyone else took notes diligently. Bulma never looked Vegeta's way, for fear of being caught by him, but she noticed how he glanced at her a couple times. That simple fact made it harder for her to concentrate. And besides, she knew everything Mr. Piccolo was writing on the board anyway. It wasn't like all of her attention had to be on what he was teaching. Unlike everyone else, who were solely focused on bringing up their previous quiz grades.
When the bell rang, Bulma grabbed her things and made her way to her human behavior class, waving to Vegeta as she left. He didn't wave back.
The only things that were now going through her mind were questions about her spiky-haired dream boy. Memories of her and Chichi's previous discussion in art class flowed through her mind like a raging river.
"Chichi!" Bulma exclaimed as the black-haired girl entered the classroom and took her seat.
"Hey, Bulma. What's up?" she asked, placing her backpack down just as the bell rang. A few people rushed into the room at the last minute, glancing at Miss Misuka to see if she was going to write them up a detention for it. But the teacher was still engrossed in that outrageously thick book of hers. Bulma smiled at her luck at having this class with a friend.
"I have so many questions. You left me dangling yesterday, Chichi!" she laughed.
"Listen, Bulma," Chichi began, "Vegeta has been my friend for god knows how long. Since I've been going out with Goku, I guess. And that's been over four years at least, by now. I already feel bad about telling you everything I did. I don't want to betray the little bit of trust I have with Vegeta. You understand, don't you, Bulma?"
"Of course, Chichi, but I was just wondering what Maron and Vegeta did other than what you told me. Because you said that Vegeta—"
"Please, Bulma," Chichi said, "I really don't think I should be talking about it."
"Oh… Well, okay… If you really feel that way."
Bulma put her head down on the table in front of her. After being such a gossip queen the other day, Bulma couldn't believe her ears. Maybe Chichi had attention issues. Who knows? she thought to herself.
"Do you want to talk about something else? I heard you and Vegeta aren't arguing anymore. I heard he walked you to class again this morning, too," she said, smirking at the new piece of gossip. Bulma rolled her eyes.
"More like he dragged me and I had no choice but to walk with him, otherwise I'd have floor-burn on my face and ass." Chichi laughed and Bulma did the same. It was kind of funny. "Oh, and there was this guy, Sharpner. He said he had to talk to Vegeta about something, but Vegeta made up some awesome comeback and the guy never got to talk to him. I thought that was pretty funny."
"Did you say Sharpner?" Chichi asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"Vegeta and Sharpner are like, rivals or something. They really hate each other. If it ever looks like a fight is going to break out between those two, I'd advise you to turn tail and run for dear life."
"Huh? Why do they hate each other so much?"
"Vegeta's friend, I don't remember her name right now, dated Sharpner a few years back. He cheated on her with Maron (big surprise) and… Well, she changed dramatically. So much that she began to stop eating and sleeping. She was really in love with that bastard, and it was so obvious to everyone around her how much she cared about him. I remember how it also hurt Vegeta. After a while, she moved away and no one has seen her since. Not even Vegeta. I remember him trying to call her almost every hour. After a few days of not hearing from her, Vegeta left to look for her. He had no idea where she had gone, so he was searching for a while. It took him almost four months to finally give up looking. He came back to school after that. He's hated Sharpner ever since then. None of us have seen or heard from the girl. I think I remember her name now. I think it was… No, I can't remember. Sorry."
"That's horrible. Where could she be?"
"I don't know. Anywhere, I guess."
"What happened to Sharpner?"
"Nothing, really. He was given a few threats from Vegeta, but no fights started. He may not seem like it, but Vegeta isn't one to start a fight. Even with all the fights he's gotten himself into, he was never the one to throw the first punch. Sometimes I wonder if he sits by himself, hoping that Sharpner will just come up to him and punch him. It would give him the excuse he needed to beat him from an inch of his life. But Sharpner never made the move. So no fights ever started between them. Sometimes I wonder whether or not Sharpner's waiting for Vegeta to throw the first punch, instead of him doing it, you know? All I know is that, if a fight ever started between the two of them, it would be best if no one was around. I can guarantee that someone will get hurt, and it may be someone watching, too."
"Thanks for the warning. I'll keep it in mind from now on," Bulma said, wondering about the girl that Sharpner had cheated on. If Vegeta left to look for her for four months, she must have meant a lot to him, she thought. And he hasn't heard from her since. That must be heartbreaking. It was hard to believe that someone like Vegeta had a heart, but Bulma guessed that that was why she found him so special. Because she knew that, deep down, he had a heart. Or had one in the past at least. Maybe the girl left with it, she pondered. Every time she heard something new about Vegeta, it just made her want to get to know him even more than before.
"And that's also part of the reason why he doesn't like Maron. For all we know, she probably planned to ruin Sharpner and the girl's relationship. She's a bitch, so I wouldn't put it past her. We all know that she's a whore. That incident only proved everyone's assumptions and made them well known facts."
The rest of the period was just annoying talk about how idiotic Maron was. By the time the bell rang, both Bulma and Chichi were fresh out of insults. It was horrible, but awesome.
Math went by slowly for Bulma because she knew no one in the class. She took notes on, once again, things she already knew, and was given a page of homework at the end of the period. Then she sat there for a few more minutes until the bell rang. Then it was time for Chemistry. She was prepared to talk to Yamcha, but wasn't surprised to find his seat empty when she walked into the classroom. She saw Maron sitting in her chair, and Vegeta followed in after her, scowling at the reminder about his shitty luck when it came to seating.
Bulma watched as he went to the front of the room to speak with their pregnant teacher with short brown hair. It looked like she tried to gel it this morning and was unsuccessful in the attempt. After a few moments, the teacher nodded and Vegeta strolled over to Bulma's lab table and sat down in Yamcha's unoccupied seat. Bulma turned her head at him in confusion.
"Mind if I sit here today?" he asked in a tone that revealed that she wasn't given the option to refuse. Bulma turned her head to look at Maron, who was looking at Vegeta as if he had just killed her family or something extreme like that. Her mouth was agape and her eyes were violent.
"Vegeta," she said in a sweet voice that Bulma envied, "You sit over here. Remember? Next to me. Not over there… next to her."
"Her?" Bulma found herself asking Maron, "You mean me? I'm her to you?"
"Well, I don't know your name. What the fuck do you want me to call you? Him? I'm sorry. I didn't know you were secretly a man in disguise."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh, I get it, sweetheart. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with little me."
"Wait… What? I never said anything about a secret—"
"Just stop talking to her," Vegeta said, easily obtaining all of her attention.
"What secret?" Bulma asked him.
"It's nothing. You didn't say anything about a secret. She's just being an idiot." He said the last part loud enough for Maron to hear him. A few other girls in the classroom heard him as well and giggled at his insult to the Queen Bee.
"But then why did she say it?"
"She wants to start trouble because she's jealous."
"Of what?"
"Of the fact that I would rather sit next to you than her. But I can't blame myself," he shrugged, "She is the most annoying person on the planet. In all honesty, I'd rather sit next to a starving lion than a moron like her."
"Vegeta, why do you hate me so much?" Maron called idiotically, leaning forward so she could see him past Bulma's head. "What did I ever do to you?"
"As I said, the most annoying on the planet," he repeated idly.
"You three, in the back," the teacher called, "May I start the lesson now? Or would you like for me to wait until you were finished talking."
Vegeta rolled his eyes and Maron guffawed at him.
"Yes, ma'am," Bulma said, folding her hands on top of the table, "We're sorry for the rude interruption. It won't happen again."
"I certainly hope not, Miss Briefs, or all three of you will be given detentions. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Bulma replied, noting how Maron and Vegeta were still playing stupid little games with each other.
A few minutes into the lecture, Maron and Vegeta were still at it, meaning Maron was trying to get Vegeta's attention and he was ignoring her in response. Sometimes he even mumbled something that he wanted her to hear on purpose. Bulma swallowed hard, hoping they wouldn't get yelled at again. She didn't want to get in trouble because she was between the two of them.
"Everything she says to me," he whispered to Bulma, loud enough for Maron to hear him once again, "Brings me closer and closer to breaking. And I think I'm about to snap." Then he lowered his voice so that only Bulma could hear him, "I need my space. Why can't she see that?"
"Maybe because you're—"
"Because she's an idiot. That's why. I could've guessed!"
"Mr. Ouji!" the pregnant teacher called to Vegeta, whipping around at his comment. He paused and directed his glare at her. She wasn't supposed to be listening.
"Yes?" he asked sarcastically, resting his arms on the black-topped lab table in front of him.
"That is it. You two haven't stopped talking all period. I'd like to see you in the principal's office during your lunch periods. If I'm not mistaken, that would be period seven, lest you forget. And I certainly hope you don't, for your sakes. It's only the second day of school, Mr. Ouji. Let's not make this another habit, all right?"
"Wait," Bulma called, "Ma'am, I wasn't talking. I was just—"
"No excuses Miss Briefs. I'll see you in the principal's office seventh period. If you have something to say for yourself, then I'd suggest you say it then. You've already wasted enough of my class time. I will not let you disturb the class any longer. Is that understood?"
"… Yes, ma'am," Bulma said apologetically, putting her head down. Why was she in trouble so soon? Wasn't her first goal to not get in any unnecessary trouble? And here she was, being given her first detention of the year. The next time she saw her parents, she would have to tell them about this. High Schools were very unfair when it came to discipline in her point of view.
Then the teacher's word ran through her mind: "It's only the second day of school, Mr. Ouji. Let's not make this another habit, all right?" That was what she had said. What did she mean, another habit? Had Vegeta done something wrong before? Was it last year? She didn't want to push her gossiping glossy-haired friend any more than she already had, but she knew she was going to have to ask Chichi about this.
She then thought about why she was constantly going to Chichi for information on Vegeta. Why was that? Wouldn't it be easier if she just asked Vegeta himself? She shrugged, wondering why she hadn't thought about that beforehand. But she decided to wait until after Chemistry because she had already gotten in trouble once. She didn't want to make a bad reputation for herself either on purpose or by accident. After the bell rang, Bulma and Vegeta avoided Maron and made their way to the gymnasium, Goku on their heels, eyes open for Chichi.
"Where are you going, woman?" Vegeta asked Bulma after a couple minutes of walking through the halls.
"To… gym?"
"Well, you have to change first, and as much as we'd love it if you did that in here with us, you have your own locker room. This is for the boys only. So unless you have something you need to tell me, get lost."
"Where am I supposed to go?" Bulma asked, looking around. There were any other doors except for classrooms.
"It's on the other side of the gym. Go down that hall, make a right, go down that hall, and then make another right. The girls' locker room should be the last door on your right. As long as you don't count the fire exit as the last door, you should be fine," he said, opening the door to the boys' locker room and stepping inside. "Right, right, and then the last door on your right," he said, "It shouldn't be all that difficult. Especially for a genius like you," he added. Bulma blushed and watched as the door shut behind him. He must have been referring to first period. She hoped he didn't think she was a nerd.
She found the first right with ease, came to the second right and found the fire exit. She giggled to herself and opened the last door. It wasn't marked, but the stench of sweat and too much perfume as she opened the door gave away what was inside. She flipped her pack onto her arm and shuffled through it until she found her clothes. Rounding the corner, she arrived at a sight that she'd thought only happened in movies. All the girls were changing their clothes in front of everyone else! Bulma had to force herself not to run for cover at the scene laid out before her. She quietly made her way to the bathroom stalls and decided to change in there instead. Getting almost naked in front of a bunch of girls was going to take some confidence and practice. And since she didn't have any confidence whatsoever, practicing was currently flying out the back window.
When her clothes were changed, she exited the stall and made her way to the corner, dropping off her bags there. She then headed for the door when her name was called by a familiar voice.
"Hey, Chichi," she said.
"Ready for gym?" she asked and Bulma shook her head nervously. Chichi laughed. "Don't worry about it. Nobody likes gym anyway. We all just do it because we have to. The boys, on the other hand, tend to enjoy it more than the girls because they have an excuse to beat each other up at certain things. They're so immature… … Especially Goku…" They both laughed at that and made their way out into the gymnasium with everyone else.