Another layer of nail vanish added to the last, deepening the thick color of red to near black. The exact image she was looking for. She looked onto her hand with pride, loving the shimmer of blood red it gave off. Perfection at its best.

Shaking her hands to get them dried quicker, she turned to her make-up. Pouring out the contents of her make-up bag, she searched for her eye liner, trying to keep her wet nails clear of smudging. Her tiny hands searched, until the object was in her hand. With the pencil in hand, she bounced off her bed, towards the mirror.

She was a girl who enjoyed going against people's expectation. The community was expected to be neat, tidy, bright people. She was the opposite. Her wardrobe of dark colors and her love of black were considered weird in her school, where everyone was in pale or bright colors. Not deep black, dark red or midnight blue. It was pale pinks, brilliant whites, Blinding purples, bright red, sky blue. She was the dim bulb in a light display. Unique. Or lack of knowledge to everyone else.

She smeared on some red eye-shadow and stained her lips crimson. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she was satisfied. She reached to her red top, pulling it over head, and then zipped up her hoody. Pan was ready for another day at orange star high school. Grabbing her bag and her walkman, she thudded down the stairs and into the outside world.

Her bag bounced against her hip and her music blared into her ear. Pan bobbed along the street, pitying the people for their lack of imagination and individuality as they stared at her in bewilderment. And smirk at the people who gave her dirty looks. Her father would blow a fuse if he could see her now...

Her smirk was wiped off her face quickly. The memory of her father was not one you wanted to bring up around her, unless you had a death wish. Or wanted to be hurt, badly.

Over the last 2 years, Pan hadn't changed much. She still had the same style of clothes, still had the same taste and was still the rebel you see today. Apart from one difference. She had parents.

At the age of 16, she was kicked out of her house because of school reputation. The fact that teacher were scared of her, the students hated her and that she was giving their family a bad name...Gohan didn't like that. And what Gohan didn't like, Videl didn't like. So, out went Pan from under his roof and out of his life.

Thankfully, she had the support of some family friends to start her up. And she had done quite well. She got a job, was currently paying back the money she owned and was nearing the end of her education.

Pan's head bobbed along to her music, her feet striding at a fast pace. The giggles of the cheerleaders were heard over Pan's music, along with their mindless comments.

"...Look at her clothes..."

"...What was she thinking..."

"...No wonder she doesn't have any friends..."

Pan rolled her eyes, strolling casually past them and ignoring their looks. Same old shit, different day. She pulled off her headphones as she entered the school building. Eyes followed her every move and Pan gritted her teeth, preparing herself for this day's events. Why couldn't they just get on with their miserable lives and leave her the fuck alone?

She pulled her locker door open with force, nearly pulling it off its hinges, wincing at the groan it gave off when she pulled to hard. She pulled out the books from her bag, shoving them messily into her locker then pulled out new ones. She caught the images of a picture that hung on the inside of her locker door. The picture of the Z gang when she was 6. A faint smile appeared on her face. But as quickly as it came, it went.

The late bell was seconds away from ringing and Pan had to sprint through the corridors to get to her homeroom in time. Her bag was hitting her hip harder as she ran. At human speeds of course. People were still in the corridors and she couldn't risk revealing herself.

She skidded to a stop, right outside the door and burst in, just as the bell rang.

The teacher looked at her as she entered, but said nothing, only before returned to his desk. She rolled her eyes at him and trudged up the stairs to her seat at the back. Alone.

Announcements were made, role call was taken and there was 10 minutes left of Homeroom. With everyone else doing their own thing, Pan pulled out her sketch book and a pencil and continued drawing. One of her favorite past times, where she could freely express herself with anyone seeing.

"Nice drawing" Pan hastily collected her art and shoved it in her bag "Whoa, didn't mean to offend you"

She glared at the guy sitting next to her, someone she hadn't seen before. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I'm trying anything, I swear" He chuckled "I'm the new student, Trunks" He thrust out his hand for her to take, but she just blink at him. She wasn't sure if this was just a new prank her peers were playing on her "I don't bite" Cautiously, she took his hand and shook it

"Pan" She said, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you Pan" He grinned "Why did you hide your art work away?"

"Don't want people seeing it" She muttered, barely loud enough for him to share.

"Why not? They're really good"

"You've only seen one picture. How do you know if I'm good or not"

"Just a hunch" He shrugged, still grinning. The bell for the first lesson rang and Pan scurried off for her first class. Drama.

"Hey! Wait up!" Trunks yelled after her. She stopped in her tracks and turned around slowly "Could you tell me where my first lesson is? I'm kinda lost" There it was again, that same grin. He handed her his timetable. Pan frowned. He had Drama first period, same as her. In fact, after looking at his whole timetable, he had the same one as her. The exact same one. Fuck

"You're in my class" She grumbled "Follow me" She walked off towards the drama room, not even caring if he was behind or not.