Chapter Nine: Party Night pt. 1

Bulma paced around in the kitchen, waiting for more instructions from Chichi. For the past few minutes, she had been helping her raven-haired friend with the snacks for the party guests. A few more groups of people had arrived, but Bulma didn't know any of them except for 17 and 18. Chichi had told her that when she made parties for a selected group of people in a high school, it usually meant that the entire school was invited. Bulma didn't understand that at all, but she had decided to just go with it after a while.

Chichi came back into the kitchen and placed an empty chip bowl down on the counter. Then, she looked up at Bulma, a firm scowl placed fiercely on her face. Bulma didn't think it looked comfortable at all.

"Bulma, you do know that this is a party, correct?" she asked, and Bulma's face turned pink. Oh, no. What had she done wrong this time? "You look completely atrocious! How dare you come to my party in jeans and sneakers. My floors aren't like the gym floors in the school, sweetheart. It isn't against the law to wear nice shoes in my house. And what's with the t-shirt? You don't have any nice dress shirts in your closet?"

Bulma looked down at herself, and then back up at Chichi. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she asked warily, not understanding Chichi's point. She had been to plenty of parties with her parents… Well, not with people her age. She embarrassedly thought of the bingo parties she had been to and the one baby shower in Australia. There had been her birthday parties, but that had only been with her and her parents. She traveled around so much, that no one was really invited to any of her birthday parties. And they weren't exactly parties. It was more like dinner, then cake, and then presents… And then she went to bed. Nothing else to it. She had never been to something like this except for when her father had been working on a project for Smiles. And that had been when she was very young. She couldn't stay home alone, so she had been dragged through a four hour ride to a pub filled with big, burly men that had stared at her in odd ways that she hadn't been able to understand. She distinctly remembered entering the dimly lit bar. That was the only time in her life that she had ever even seen a disco ball, shooting all its magnificent colors around the room. She remembered the giant sign that said "Hot Women Cold Beer Free Food. You Drink, We Drive." She hadn't understood what it meant before, but she had when she grew older.

"Come with me, Bulma. There's no way in hell I'm letting you show yourself to my party guests with that outfit on." And that was it. There were no questions asked as Chichi shoved Bulma towards the stairs and up to her bedroom. "Here," she said, pointing to her closet. She pulled out a dark lavender dress. There was nothing special about it, but it was far from simple. It was one solid color all around, and there were no straps to hold it up. Bulma gulped.

"What is it?" she squeaked, knowing that it was a stupid question to ask.

"It's your escape, honey," Chichi replied, as if it was the most obviously expected answer in the entire world. "This is what you're going to wear. And trust me, you won't stand out too much. Everyone is going to be dressed in something like this. Only the boys are going to be wearing jeans and sneakers. But that's only because boys are the natural disasters of the word fashion. They have no style, but I'm here to make sure you're not like that. Just think of me as your guardian angel, sweetheart. I'm here for you when you fashion sense goes down the toilet." She paused, looking Bulma up and down. "Or if you just don't have one altogether."

"Hey, I don't—"

"Shh!" Bulma was silenced with a finger to her lips. "Come here," Chichi said, bending down next to a wooden vanity with a mirror that nearly touched the ceiling of Chichi's bedroom. "Take this, and this, and this. Oh, don't forget this." She handed the confused aqua-haired teen two bottles and one can. "Here are your instructions," she began, sitting down on her bed. Bulma felt like she was talking to a psychologist about her clothing problems. "The bottles are your shampoo and conditioner. They're from Garnier Fructis, so don't waste any, please. We can't all be rich like you. What you do is make sure your hair is soaked. And I don't mean just a little wet. I mean drenched."

"Wait," Bulma said, putting a hand in the air, "Are you giving me instructions on how to take a shower? What am I, three years old?"

"Darling, there is a dramatic difference between taking your usual shower and taking a shower in preparation for a party. Didn't your mother ever teach you things like this?" she asked, reprimanding, as if she was about to punish Bulma's mother. "So, as I was saying, this stuff is expensive, so don't go using a bunch of it for no good reason."

"I got that part," Bulma said, not sure if she should be going along with this.

"You wash with the shampoo once, first. Then with the conditioner. They have ginseng in them, so your hair will get a sort of body boost to it. Don't get me wrong, it's not like you need it, but it'll still help you out in the long run. After you're done with the first wave, then you do it again. Use the shampoo for a second time. It helps to get rid of the oils if you do it twice. And the end result is worth the trouble, let me tell you. I would know." She pointed to the can next. "Then you have to shave."

Bulma looked over the can, flipping it over a couple times to get the gist of it.

"It's shaving cream from Skintimate. This, you can use as much as you like. Lather it on, girl. This specific company makes your legs glow. And when I say glow, I mean luster and shine like there's no tomorrow. This stuff is amazing. And believe it or not, it was Goku who found it for me. He's definitely useful when it comes to picking out things that are healthy and things that really work. He can literally feel what's inside these products, and he'll pick the best ones for me. He's such a sweetheart, isn't he?"

Bulma wanted to tell Chichi to wipe the sparkles from her eyes and get on with it, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Yeah, well, the reason for the shaving stuff is because the dress is high cut. It's not slutty or anything bad like that, but it tends to show of your legs… Oh, and I almost forgot." She jumped off the bed and ran back to the vanity. "This and this." She pulled out a package with a pink razor in it and another bottle. It was orange.

"What is it?" Bulma asked cautiously, feeling as if she was running headfirst into a brick wall by asking the dreaded question.

"It's just a body wash. It's nothing really special, but you'll smell good for hours after you shower. That's what I like most about this. It's from Softsoap, and the scent is sweet honeysuckle and orange peel. Guys tend to melt over this scent. Goku said so, so I guess he's the most reliable when it comes to guy stuff. Vegeta would never help me out like Goku does, so he's technically useless."

Bulma's eyes got a bit wider for a split second at the mention of Vegeta's name, and Chichi noticed. Bulma cursed under her breath when a smirk crossed Chichi's face.

"But don't worry. Goku said Vegeta likes it, too. In fact, he loves it, if Goku wasn't lying. So he'll melt over you. Just like everybody else."

"I didn't mean—"

"Shush! My lips are sealed. And… as for the razor, it's not used, so you can keep it. They're sort of expensive, but I got a bunch as a gift, so I've got plenty more." Chichi walked out of her room and Bulma followed her down the hallway and into the bathroom. It was nowhere near as large as hers, but it was nice. It felt like home. It felt like a hotel's bathroom, which was technically home to her, considering all the travelling she used to do. "The hot water takes a little while to get through the pipes. Sorry about that. Your turn it up and right for warm water and up and left for cold. I know it's backwards. My bathroom's all screwed up, and it bothers the heck out of me, too. And make sure you do everything I told you, alright?" Bulma nodded. "I'll be back up here in twenty five minutes. You should be done by then."

"Okay… I guess…"

"See you in twenty-five," she said, waving as she left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Bulma was left alone with her many confused thoughts. It was humid for twilight's time, so the shower looked extremely inviting to her. She felt like taking a cold shower instead of a usual warm one. She didn't think she could handle a hot shower at that moment. She was already burning up from embarrassment. Chichi had a way with words. That was all she could come up with to explain what she had just been through.

Chichi was a new and seemingly improved friend. Bulma had never been friends with anyone her own age before. She had never been friends with someone who held the same interests and feelings as her. Showers were never a topic when she talked with artsy people that her mother worked for or the other artsy people that worked for her father. It was always what to paint next, or sculpt or sketch or the next job or assignment. Sometimes it seemed like her parents cared more about their work than their own daughter.

Bulma undressed and turned the water on cold. She looked over at the things Chichi had given her and ran over the instructions in her head. At first, this seemed like the craziest thing she had ever been asked to do. But now that she was here and thinking about where she could have been if she had never met Chichi and Goku and Vegeta on that first day of high school, she knew that this was fun. Sure, it was crazy, but it was as if she was finally living her life the way she wanted to, instead of the way her parents wanted her to. They had a vision for her, but they never actually stopped to ask what she wanted. And this moment felt like she was finally given that choice. She had friends and she even had enemies, and it felt wonderful. She had never felt so alive in all her life.

She grabbed the bottles, cans and the razor, and stepped into the shower. A small rack was hung from the spout, so she placed the things she was given in there. She only had a little more than twenty minutes remaining, so she shoved her head under the soft stream of water and rubbed her hands through it until it was drenched. Then, she reached for the shampoo bottle and started to mentally go over Chichi's instructions.

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"Don't worry about a thing, Bulma," Chichi said, watching the aqua-haired girl pull at all the parts of the dark lavender dress around her waist. "It fits your form perfectly. In fact, I think it looks better on you than on me. And that's saying something because it's my dress."

"Don't you think I look silly with this on? I've never worn anything like this before. It feels comfortable, but I think it doesn't look like me at all." She tugged on her ponytail. "And why do I have to wear my hair like this?" she whined.

"I just blow-dried your hair, Bulma. So, if you put it in a ponytail or bun like that, then you take it out when you go downstairs. Trust me, okay. Haven't you ever seen those movies with the girls entering the party in slow motion? Having your hair like that gives you that effect." She sighed. "Just relax, okay. You look great." She paused, letting a smirk creep its way up her face until it filled her expression. "But I'm not done with you just yet, Bulma Briefs. We still need jewelry and makeup. Not a lot of makeup, though. Maybe just a little something for your eyes. And that dress really does bring out the best of you. Especially your legs."

Bulma's face went red as she looked down at herself.

"Oh, stop being so modest, girl. You have a body that most of the girls in Orange Star High would die for. Not to mention the boys. They would probably die for a girl with your body, too."

Bulma's face went even redder than before. "Chichi, don't you think that's a little ridiculous? I mean, I'm not like a model or anything. It's not like I'm anything special."

"I just told you to stop being so modest. I think you need to learn that you're pretty. No, you're gorgeous. Even with just those flimsy rags that you had on before, you looked like a star. Even I was a bit jealous then. But now look at you. You're certainly a model if I've ever seen one."

"Chichi, that's not funny."

"I'm not joking!" she laughed.

Bulma looked down at herself once more before a pair of silver shoes were thrown in her face. "What are these for? We're inside a house."

"Well, when you're at a party with music and dancing, it's okay to wear shoes indoors. And plus, what's the point in wearing such a pretty dress if you don't have shoes to go with it. You don't have any nail polish on, but I this you'll be fine without it. Although blue would look nice. A light blue…"

Chichi trailed off, looking around her bedroom for something else to torture Bulma with putting on or wearing. Bulma sighed and sat down on the bed, adjusting the straps of the three inch-heeled shoes. She slid them onto her feet and silently thanked her mother for the high-heel lessons when she was younger. Three inches was a lot to take without any practice beforehand. That was for sure. And they were extremely comfortable. She wondered if there was some secret place that the shoes would be killing her feet later on into the night.

"Hey, Chichi?"

"Hmm?" she mumbled, her raven-haired head sticking into her closet. She looked like the headless wonder like that, Bulma deduced.

"Who's here already, apart from who I saw? I mean, wasn't the party supposed to start about a half an hour ago?"

"Sweetheart, you've been up here the entire time. The entire bottom floor of the house is packed with people."

Bulma stood up and wobbled for only a moment before regaining her balance. Maybe she wouldn't remember those lessons from when she was younger. She hadn't worn heels like these in over a year. "Really? I wasn't even up here for that long… Is anyone I know here yet?"

"No, Bulma, Vegeta isn't here yet."

"I never said—"

"Don't worry, darling. Goku's making sure that he comes. And when Goku sets his mind to something, there's no stopping him. Even Vegeta knows that… And apart from him, Tien and Launch came together, and so did Krillin, but you haven't met him yet. I'd be careful what you say around him, though. He's the complete opposite of self-conscious, but the one thing that will make him blush is 18. Everyone but her notices when he's around her. He has some weird crush on Maron, too, but I know he likes 18 a hell of a lot better. She's much more intelligent and she prettier, too. He's a loser for liking Maron, but I think he'd go perfectly with 18. What do you think?"

"I don't know… Like you said. I've never even met him before."

"Right. Well, then I guess I'll just have to introduce you when we get downstairs. Goku's handling the snacks, but if I know Goku, they'll be gone before he puts the bowl back down. He's going to need my help in a little while."

"I thought he was with Vegeta…?"

"Not now, no. He talked with him before, and he's going to go check on him later if he doesn't come within the next hour or so. But don't worry. I know he'll come."

"Does he know that I know about… the different species thing?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think so. Why?"

"Because my thoughts keep going back to one time when I was with him…"

"What are you talking about?"

"The second day of school, right after lunch started, when we got our detention assignments. Do you remember?"

"When Vegeta went missing for a little while?"

"Yeah, that's it. Well, we were walking down the hallway and Maron told him that she was going to tell me his secret, which I think is what you and Goku told me. But he told her something that I didn't quite catch, and I think he made some kind of deal with her so I wouldn't find out about him."

"What's your point? Vegeta does stupid stuff all the time."

"Well… I don't know exactly. I just have the feeling that he still has to do something… for her… But I already know about him, so he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. I just think he should know that before he…"

"Bulma, is something wrong?"

"I think he's going to… Chichi, do you think I could call him or something?"

"What? Bulma, why in the world would you want to do something like that? The last time you talked with Vegeta, you ended up calling me because you thought he was coming to kill you. Maybe you should just wait until he gets here."

"I don't know, Chichi. Is Maron here yet?"

"I didn't invite her, but she's probably coming… But no, she isn't. Why?"

"What if she's with Ve—"

"Bulma Briefs! Have you been paying any attention at all for the past week? Vegeta hates Maron's guts. He wouldn't willingly spend his time with her, even if his life was on the line! And if you think Maron could ever force him to do something against his will, then you're absolutely, positively insane, girl!"

"But…" Bulma looked down at her feet. At the shiny, silver shoes she was wearing.

"Don't worry about Vegeta. He's the second strongest thing on this planet."

"Second?" she asked, looking up curiously.

"To my man, Goku, of course," she smiled. "Now, stop being so paranoid. Vegeta can handle himself. And he can most certainly handle a bitchy dimwit like Maron. We still have work to do, remember? So, since you aren't wearing nail polish, the shoes will be the more showy thing on your feet. I think you should go light on the jewelry. No anklets. Maybe studded earrings. Your ears are pierced, right?"

Bulma nodded her response.

"Good. Silver will match the shoes, so here. Put these on," she said, handing her a black velvet box. "And this will match everything just fine. It's silver to match the shoes and an amethyst gemstone to go with the lavender of the dress. Everything looks in order, doesn't it?"

"I don't know. You're the expert here, Chichi. I have no idea what you're doing," she said thankfully, the earrings in place. She took the amethyst necklace and clipped it with both hands behind her neck.

"Thanks for your trust in me, but I'm no expert. Just be thankful I'm not making you look like a birthday clown."

Bulma giggled.

"All we need now is makeup and you can go show off to everyone. Just make sure you avoid 17. He's such a pervert and he's not the person to be around if you're the hottest girl at a party."

"Don't go overboard, please, Chichi. I don't think I could handle much more of you saying that. If I was really that great, don't you think that someone would have told me already?"

"Not in the world you used to live in, sweetheart. But here, you're like a princess." She paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Bulma asked warily.

"Goku forgot to tell you, but Vegeta is actually Prince Vegeta."

"Excuse me?" she guffawed, feeling like one of those cartoon characters that stuck their finger three inches into their ear when they didn't believe what they were hearing.

"Goku and Vegeta's planet is called Planet Vegeta. And Vegeta is the prince. Someday, he'll rule the entire species. I just thought it was funny how I didn't notice that I just called you a princess. Hilarious, am I right?" she said, laughing once more.

"Yeah, hilarious," Bulma replied, no emotion in her voice as the thought of Prince Vegeta crossed her mind over and over again, nonstop. She always thought he looked like royalty, but to find out that it wasn't even a joke was a bit much to take in without a warning of some kind.

"Put this on," she said, handing her a bottle of mascara, "And I think you'll be fine… Oh, lip gloss would be nice, too. The mirror's over there," she pointed, going back to her closet to dive in, headfirst. Bulma turned to the tiny mirror that Chichi had pointed to and applied the mascara. She didn't want it too dark, so she just used one coat and turned back around to find a pink, square glass tube being held out to her.

"It's lips gloss, and it's also lip inflation. Not that you need it, but the color's nice, and there's really a chemical that make your lips look juicer… Vegeta will love it," she added.

"Chichi! Enough with Vegeta already!"

"Sorry, sorry. I don't mean to get into your business."

"Vegeta isn't my business, Chichi. But really, give it a rest, okay. Please?"

"All right, all right. Sorry, but you two would go great together, if I may throw my opinion out there."

"Don't get your hopes up," she replied, swiping the small brush of pink lip gloss over her bottom lip. "Here," she said, handing it back to the raven-haired girl.

"Now, Bulma. It's time to go show everyone who the real party girl is around here."

"Who's that?"

"Very funny, but it's not getting you out of anything, I see you sneaking towards the door, and I'm not letting you leave until everyone else is gone, you understand?" Bulma nodded and failed at her attempt to not gulp too loud. "It's not that bad, Bulma, really. You look like an angel sent from heaven, in complete honesty. And you're going to rock this house. Let's get this party started, 'kay?!"

Bulma nodded and sighed at her fiend's enthusiasm and let her pull her by the arm down the stairs.

"This is it, Bulma," she said excitedly, reaching the platform of the stairs. "One more step until you're in full view of the living room and everyone in it. You ready?"

Bulma just nodded. It wasn't as if everything was going to be put on pause. She had seen the types of movies where the popular girls entered the room and everyone stared, but she wasn't popular. She was the new girl that everyone in movies made fun of and laughed at because she didn't know how to act at a party. This was going to be like she expected. She would walk down these last few steps with her eyes on the wooden floor below her, and when she looked up, no one will have noticed her. Things like slow-motion entrances and parties being put on halt for a guest only happened on television and in movies. It wasn't like it could ever happen to her. She was just two artsy people's daughter, moving into a new school.

She felt herself rounding the corner, her eyes on the wooden floor, as planned. When she reached the bottom step she slowly looked up to find that she was dead-on. Everyone around her was minding their own business and no one even glanced her way. It was exactly as she knew it would be. She was nobody special. She was just like every other teenager who didn't really belong here. She was just another member of the crowd.

"Bulma," Chichi whispered, "Take down your hair."

"What?" she whispered back.

"Your ponytail. Let your hair out. Now would be the time to do it. And make sure you swish your hair around, okay?"

Bulma rolled her eyes and reached for the hair tie behind her head. But as she pulled it out, everything really did seem to happen in slow motion. She knew the form standing behind the swiftly opening door. It was him, and he was the one moving in slow-motion, not her. But then her world slowed down dramatically as she saw another form in the doorway. Underneath one of Vegeta's muscular arms was the shoulder-line of Maron. She was cuddled up against his shoulder and chest while his face nuzzled her elegant tresses as they entered the house.

And even as Vegeta turned to watch Bulma swish out her hair, everything was still moving in slow motion. It was obvious that he had seen the agonizing and miserable look on her face before her beautiful wavy hair fell over her left shoulder in one gallant swoop and she turned and ran back up the stairs. But not before she saw the triumphant look that gleamed over Maron's face. It had been directed at her.

Then, everything returned to normal speed once again. Bulma could hear Chichi calling her back as she cupped her hands over her face and felt the tears flow. Why had she expected anything less from him? It wasn't as if he actually cared about her. He wanted her gone. Maybe not dead anymore, but certainly out of his sight distance. But why Maron? Out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be Maron?

It was miserably obvious. Her living Hell had begun.