A/N – I have nothing against Makayla – and in the future, Carly – but I really wanted to write this.
Disclaimer – I do not own Transformers.
Before time began, there was the cube. We know not where it comes from. Only that it holds the power to create worlds and fill them with life. That was how we were born. For a time we lived in harmony. But like with all great power, some wanted it for good, others for evil. And so began the war. A war that ravaged our planet until it was consumed by death. And the cube was lost to the far reaches of space. We scattered across the galaxy, hoping to find it and rebuild our home. Searching every star, every world. And just when all hope seemed lost, message of a new discovery led us to a planet called Earth. But we were already too late.
Last class of the day. I was sitting next to my best friend, Sam Witwicky. I was glad that I had already given my report. But I didn't think Sam would get his final A that he needed. "Mr. Witwicky? You're up" the teacher called. I crossed my fingers. Sam had raised two thousand dollars and only needed one more A and he could get his first car.
Sam hurriedly got up and stumbled his way to the front of the room.
He lifted his backpack and dumped all of his great-great-grandfather's things onto the table. "Sorry, I got a lot of stuff" he sorted through the jumbled mess. "For my family…"
Sam then got hit in the head by a folded piece of paper. I sighed and didn't bother to look for who did it. No one usually noticed Sam enough to pick on him except Trent.
"Who did that?" the teacher looked around the room, pointing his finger at us. "People, responsibility" yeah right, I snorted. What high school student is going to be responsible?
"For my family genealogy report, I decided to do it on my great-great-grandfather, who is a famous man. Captain Archibald Witwicky" he started off. "He was one of the first to explore the Arctic Circle, which is a very big deal" I stopped listening at that point. Sam had practiced his report in front of me so often, I could have given it for him.
The bell rang as Sam was trying to convince our fellow students to by his great-great-grandfather's things for money. I shook my head. "I'll meet you at the car, okay?" I told him. He nodded, and started talking to the teacher, trying to persuade him to give Sam an A.
I saw Ron standing by his car in the parking lot. "Hi dad" I said, sliding into the back. I've been best friends with Sam ever since we could remember. And since I spent 95% of my life at the Witwicky household, I called Ron and Judy, Mom and Dad.
"Hey Lindsey. How'd he do?" I smiled. "Same as usual" we all knew what that meant. No Witwicky was normal, and because I was an honorary Witwicky, that rule applied to me as well.
I guess I should explain myself. My name is Lindsey Maria Stewart, but I was more Witwicky than Stewart. I was only a few inches shorter than Sam was. I was slender thought; he could wrap both his arms around my waist and touch his opposite elbows. I was slightly curvy, but it's not like it mattered. I had dark, brown-blond hair that reached the middle of my back, and had bright bond steaks, making me look more blond than brunette. I also had dark green eyes, and tanned skin from the short-shorts and tank-tops I wore all the time. Yeah, it was more girly than I really liked, but it was usaually so hot I couldn't think about wearing anything else.
Sam came running out right then, almost skipping in joy. "Yes, yes, YES!" he cried. He threw his backpack in the back seat next to me and slid into the passenger seat. "Well?" we asked him. "A-, but it's an A thought"
"Let me see" Sam held the paper still long enough for his dad to look at it. "Yep, you're good" Rom started driving towards where we would end up getting Sam's first car.
"I got a surprise for ya, son" Ron told him as he pulled into a Porsche dealership. "A little surprise" Sam looked around in awe. "No, no, no, no, no, no Dad! You gotta be kidding me" I was smiling at Sam's enthusiasm. It was uncharacteristic for Ron to spend that much money on something. I was a little sceptic, but didn't want to ruin it for Sam.
"I am. You're not getting a Porsche" and he started laughing at mine and Sam's sad expressions. "You think that's funny?" I asked him. "Yeah, I think that's funny" he said, still chuckling. "You think I'd really get you a Porsche for your first car?" he asked as we drove from the Porsche lot down the street, to what looked to be a junk yard next to a petting zoo.
There was a clown standing the entrance holding a sign. He wore heavy make-up and looked like he was about to pass out. I shook my head. This was Nevada. You were crazy to wear long-sleeves here, let alone a heavy clown costume and equally heavy make-up.
"I'm not gonna talk to you…" Sam and his dad kept arguing as we pulled into the lot.
"What is this? You said half a car, not half a piece of crap" Sam cried as he saw the old, worn down cars that filled the lot. I shook my head. As a mechanic, I hated to see all these cars run down like this. "Don't worry Sam, even if you get a crappy car, I can try to get it into perfect working condition" I tried to comfort him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we fallowed Ron.
"When I was your age I would have been happy with four wheels and an engine" he scolded us. "Back then four wheels and an engine were all there was" I muttered. "Have you ever seen the 40-year-old virgin" Sam asked his dad as we stopped by a couple of cars out front. Ron nodded. "That's what this is" Sam pointed to one car, "And this is the 50-year-old virgin" I laughed.
"No sacrifice, no victory" Ron reminded Sam of the family motto. "Yeah, yeah, I know the old Witwicky motto"
Suddenly a black man in white pants, white hat, and an ugly button up shirt came out of the building in front of us. "Bobby Bolivia, like the country but without the runs" he said, mispronouncing ruins. "My son here, is about to buy his first car" Ron told him. Sam looked down, depressed at what state his future car was going to be in.
Bolivia looked happily surprised. "And you come to see me?" He asked proudly, pointing to himself. "I had to" Sam muttered. "Shh" I shushed him, smiling softly.
"That makes us family" Bolivia proclaimed. "Uncle Bobby B, baby, uncle Bobby B" he said, shaking Sam's hand. The one that wasn't wrapped around my shoulders. "Sam" he didn't introduce me, and Bolivia didn't seem to care, though I saw him eyeing me a little while we were all standing there.
"Sam. Let me talk to ya" he led same towards more cars. "Your first enchilada of freedom lies underneath one of those hoods" I walked away from Sam to look at some of the other cars. He didn't even really notice, distracted by Bolivia talking to his and dragging him along.
It was then I saw it. A 1977 Chevy Camaro in bright yellow, with black racing stripes. I walked over to him and dragged my hand along his hood as I made my way to the driver's seat. I opened the door and sat down. "Wow. What's a beauty like you doing in a junk yard like this" I asked him. Yes him, I give all electronics genders, well, most. And this car was defiantly a him.
The three guys approached the Camaro. I wasn't really listening to what they were talking about. I was too busy looking at the car. I held onto the steering wheel when I noticed some dirt covering something in the center of the steering wheel. My concentration was interrupted by Bolivia shouting.
Sam opened the door before I could actually listen to what Bolivia was shouting. "What is it, Lindsey?" he asked me, as I was the car expert. "He's a '77 Chevy Camaro. Good condition, haven't looked at the engine yet. But I think this car the best you're gonna get here. And he's a pretty dang good car"
I moved over, into the passenger seat so Sam could sit in the driver's seat. "Feel's good" he sounded surprised as he ran his hands along the steering wheel. He ran his thumb over the horn, removing the dirt I had noticed earlier. "Yeah, I saw that when I was looking him over" I said as I leaned closer. I tried not to notice how close Sam and I were. He was my best friend, but recently… I don't know.
"Do you know what it is" he asked, thinking it was some kind of car symbol. I shook my head. "No idea. I've never seen something like that before" I told him. I leaned back in my seat.
"How much?" we heard Sam's dad ask. "Well," Bolivia started, seeming fine with selling a car that he had no idea how it got here, what is was, and who really owned it, "Considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle" I snorted semi-classic, "Slick wheels and the custom paint job" Sam interrupted him. "The paints faded" he said, calling Bolivia's bluff. "Yeah, but it's custom" he said, leaning in through the window, making me lean into Sam. "So its custom faded?" he asked. Bolivia looked flustered. "It's your first car, so I wouldn't expect you to understand" he stood up and faced Sam's dad.
"Five grand" I flinched, I knew Ron wouldn't pay that. "No, I'm not going over four. I'm sorry" he said. I shook my head. I knew how much Sam had his heart set on this car. If he couldn't have a Porsche, he wanted this. Nothing else in the lot even came close to the Camaro.
"Kids, come on, get out of the car" he said, leaning the window again with a serious expression. "You said car's pick their drivers" I must have missed that. "And sometimes they pick drivers with cheap-ass fathers, now come one" he stood up again, and Sam reluctantly opened the door.
"Now this one here for four G's is a bueate" he said, climbing into the bug next to the Camaro. "There's a fiesta with racing stripes over there" Ron suggested as Sam helped me out of the car through the driver's door. I didn't want any closer to Bolivia than I had to be.
"I don't want a fiesta with racing stripes" Sam mumbled. Bolivia was talking, but I couldn't really hear what he was saying. Sam slammed the door of the Camaro shut, and as soon as it shut the passenger door opened and slammed into the door of the bug next to it, the one Bolivia was in.
I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand in shock when it happened. The bug's horn beeped with the impact. Bolivia climbed out of the passenger door window after something on the other side of the bug fell over. "Are you alright?" Ron asked him. Bolivia insisted he was fine.
"Gave me a heart attack" I told Sam. He nodded. "Are you okay?" he asked me. I nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm fine. But I can tell you this: if we do end up with the Camaro, which I hope we do, then we're gonna have one strange car" I saw Sam smile out of the corner of my eye when I said 'we' instead of 'you'.
"A sledge hammer will knock this right out. Hey Manny!" He called the guy in the garage again. "Get your clown cousin and get a hammer and come bang this stuff out baby!" he cried. He used the word baby too often. It kind of creeped me out.
Bolivia pointed to another car. "That one's my favorite. Drove it all the way from Alabammy" he said, walking over to it. I heard something going on with the radio. Suddenly a loud sound came from the Camaro and all of the windows of every car but the Camaro blew out, leaving them all windowless.
"Wow" we covered our ears with our hands and fell to the ground, trying to avoid broken glass. Sam covered me with his arm, trying to protect me to. He was always over protective of me.
Bolivia stood and looked around at the destruction all around him. All because of one mysterious old Camaro.
"Four Thousand" he said in a squeaky voice, holding up four fingers. I looked at Sam. He knew what was coming.