More inspiration... more ideas... WHAT'S WRONG WITH MEEEEEE?!

Well, while you think about that, you can just sit and read this thing i just came up with. That's really all i got to say.


Ch. 1
My Name Is Emma

"Witwicky!"

My eyes snapped open and I inhaled sharply. I quickly lifted my head up from my desk and several of my classmates laughed around me. I groaned irritably, rubbing my eyes as I looked up at my teacher, who was giving me that same stern look that he saved just for me. I think he started saying something like, 'you must pay attention,' but I was so tired by now that I almost didn't hear. Don't be too surprised. English has never been my best subject, and English IV is no exception. The only reason I'm in here at all is because I need it in order to graduate high school. And since this is my senior year, it's pretty important, no matter how stupid I think it is.

Incase you're wondering, my name is Emma Witwicky; daughter to Ron and Judy Witwicky, and older sister by one year to Sam Witwicky. I'm sure you know about him somehow, so I'll move on. …What's that? You want to know what I look like? Sure, why not?

Let me start simple; I'm about 5'5" in height, but that's only because of long legs, and even then I'm still half an inch shorter than Sam. I'm not skinny, at all, but I'm not obese, either. I'm just a little on the 'more to love' side, that's all. But, trust me, this girl's got some muscles on her, and she knows how to use it! My hair is naturally black and wavy, with sky-blue highlights that I've had since my sophomore year. It's also cut to reach between my shoulder blades and my bangs fall just above my right eye, one blue highlight in the middle of them. I have very large, round hazel eyes that always seemed to shine like lighters. Covering them are my pair of solid black, cat-eye glasses that I've worn since I was fourteen. As far as my cloths go, I have sort of a hipster/tomboy thing going on. Like, today I'm wearing a pair of faded blue jeans with rips along my thighs and shins. I have on my favorite pair of purple and black checkered Converts. To top it all off, I have on a sleeveless black shirt that says "Shut Up & Spin" written in all white caps, and under it is a picture of a girl spinning a large flag.

Oh! Did I mention I was in my schools' color guard? Yeah! I started my freshmen year, and I've been in love with it ever since. Plus, thanks to four years of hard band camp, marching, and a lot of flag spinning, I've got to serious arm and leg muscles. I love the program, I love guard buds, I love my band nerds, and I love my flag! I'm the only senior in guard who doesn't spin a rifle or saber, but I don't care. Because when I spin my flag, I spin my flag like there's no tomorrow! I'm committed to my flag, and my flag alone. My flag is my child, and I'll love it for the rest of my life. And I hope that when I go to college, I can do color guard there.

Did I mention I named my flag 'Faith?' Yes, my flag is a girl. Now you know.

My teacher looked like he was gong to continue his lecture when he bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day. I quickly stuffed my sketchbook(I had been drawing instead of taking notes) into my bag before putting the bag strap over my shoulder and heading out the door. As I went out I looked forward and saw and open classroom door across the hall from mine. It was Sam's History class. I could see him standing in front of his teacher's desk, talking to said teacher. I didn't need to hear what he was saying to know he was begging for and A.

See, it's like this. Even though I've had my drivers license since I was sixteen, I've never had my own car. My dad always made me use his or my moms'. He said he was waiting for Sam to get his license so that he could get a car for us to share. It was a silly rule, but my dad's also kind of cheap and not willing to buy two cars for his two kids. I don't have a problem sharing a car, neither does Sam. But our dad gave us one condition; we had to bring him three A's, and we both had to give him $1,000 dollar, and he was going to pay the other $2,000. I managed to get all three A's thanks to my Band class. All I have to do is show up and do good on my routine and I get a good grade. Plus, I've been working as a hostess at a Macaroni Grill for a couple years now, so the money wasn't hard to get. Sam, however, had some issues. Not with the A's, but with the money. He had been bouncing from one job to the next, trying as hard as he could to get the money. It was hard, but he got the 1,000 after a while. Now he only had one A left to go.

Sighing, I walked over to the door and leaned against the wall, waiting for Sam to come out with whatever grade he got. After waiting for a few minutes he came running out of the classroom, punching his fists in the air.

"Yes! Thank you, Jesus!"

I giggled. "I'm guessing you're sucking up went well?"

Sam whipped his head around to face me, a large smile on his goofy face.

"I got it Emma! I made and A!"

I walked over and looked down at his paper. Yep, it was an A. An A-, but an A, nonetheless.

"Nice one, bro," I said, giving him a one-armed hug. "Now let's go show that beautiful A to our dad."

It took us about five minutes to get through the hoard of people running throughout the halls and to the front doors. We ran outside and searched around for our dad's little green car. The second I saw it I playfully pushed Sam away and mad a B-line for it. He hollered at me as he chased after me, but I just laughed and continued running. After all, I'm the one with the leg power, aren't I? And it was because of that leg power that I got to the car first. As soon as I did I hopped into the passenger seat next to my dad.

"Hi, daddy," I said sweetly, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

He chuckled. "Hey, sweetie. Where's your brother?"

"Still running."

It was about thirty seconds later that Sam had finally made it to the car.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" he shouted.

"Don't know why you're cheering," I said. "I'm the one who got here first."

Sam ignored me as he threw his bags into the back and quickly opened the door to get in the back seat.

"So?" our dad asked.

"A-!" Sam said happily. "It's an A, though!"

"Wait, wait, wait, I can't see," our dad reached back and grabbed Sam's paper. "Ah, it's an A."

"So I'm good?"

"You're good."

I smiled, feeling excited about what was to come. Reaching inside a smaller zipper section on my book bag, I took out my Ipod and put my ear-buds in. I turned on the devise and turned on 'Poker Face' by Lady Gaga. Okay, can I just say, I absolutely love Lady Gaga with all my being? I mean, I listen to other songs too, but she's my baby! I listen to her music all the time. And any of you haters out there can go kiss my ass!

We had been driving for about ten minutes when we drove up to a place I knew all too well. It was the Porsche dealership! I was so surprised I yanked my ear-buds out and sat up on my knees, staring in disbelief. No way my cheap-ass father would get a Porsche!

"No freaking way!" I nearly shouted.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me!" Sam yelled, smiling widely.

"Yeah, I am."

My face fell as I whipped my head around to stare at my father in disbelief.

"You guys aren't getting a Porsche," he said before he burst into laughter.

I sank into my seat, my excitement fading. I should've known it was too good to be true. Despite being a bit disappointed, it was still a pretty good joke, and I couldn't help but chuckle a bit. I did, however, reach over and push on my dad's shoulder.

"That's not nice!" I said smartly.

"You think that's funny?" Sam asked, sounding like a child who just lost some candy. "What's wrong with you?"

"Yeah, I think it's funny," our dad laughed. "You think I'd really get you guys a Porsche for your first car?"

I threw my hands up. "We should've known, brother!" I said dramatically. "It was a well brought out trick made against us, and we fell for it!"

I leaned my head back so I was looking at Sam, and he did not look happy at all. He shook his head as he folded his arms and turned away.

"I don't wanna talk to you for the rest of this whole thing," he said irritably.

"Oh, come on. It's just a practical joke."

I rolled my eyes as I ignored the two for the rest of the ride. It didn't take long for us to arrive at the real dealership place we were going to. As we pulled in we passed a guy that was holding a sign…and dressed like a clown. Oh, no…

"Here?!" Sam said in disbelief. "No no no, what is this? You said- you said half a car, not half a piece of crap, dad."

Dad huffed. "When I was your age, I'd have been happy with four wheels and an engine."

Sam huffed. "Okay, let me explain something to you. Okay? You ever see 40-Year-Old Virgin?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," Sam gestured to one car. "That's what this is," he gestured to another. "And this is 50-year-old-virgin. You want me to live that life? And how do you think Emma's gonna feel driving one of these? She's a senior!"

I sighed deeply. "Sam, at this point, I just don't care anymore…"

"Listen to your sister, Sam," said dad. "She knows what she's talking about."

"But-"

"Ah! Lady and gentlemen!"

We all turned to see a man walking out of the building, who could only be the owner. He walked right up to us and shook dad's hand.

"Bobby Bolivia," he introduced himself. "Like the country, except without the runs. How can I help you?"

"Well, my kids here are looking to buy their first car," said dad.

"And you come to see me?"

"We had to," I mumbled.

"That practically make us family," Bobby reached his hand out. "Uncle Bobby B, baby. Uncle Bobby B."

Sam reached his hand out. "Sam."

Bobby turned to look at me and grinned widely. "Oh! And who may this stunning young woman be? Your sister?"

"Yes," I held my hand out. "I'm Emma."

"Emma!" Bobby took my hand in both of his own and shook them gently. "The pleasure is mine. Alright, kids, let me talk to yah."

Bobby put his arms around mine and Sam's shoulders and started leading us away from dad.

"Sam, Emma, your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods. And let me tell you two something; a driver don't pick the car, the car pick the driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine. Now guys, I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them. Especially not in front of my mammy. That's my mammy," he pointed forward, and called out, "Hey, Mammy!"

We all looked over at the woman he was gesturing to, who was sitting across the street in her yard. The minute she saw Bobby she raised her hand up as high as it could go and flipped him off.

"Oh, boy…" I huffed.

Having had enough of this crap, I quickly walked away from Sam and Bobby, who continued going on about cars. I walked all around the lot, examining all the cars that surrounded me.

"Hmm… Crap," I said as I walked through the cars, pointing to each one. "Crap… Crap… Mega Crap… Super-Ultra crap… Cra- Oh!"

I immediately stopped walking, pointing, and saying 'crap,' because for the first time since we arrived, I didn't need to. There, right in front of me, was a yellow 1970 Camero with black racing strips. The thing might've been old and the paint was very faded, but it was by far the most beautiful used car I had ever seen. It was certainly better-looking than any of the cars in this lot, that's for sure.

I stared at the car for another second before slowly walking forward towards it. When I was right in front of it I lifted one of my hands up and pressed it to the hood. Surprisingly, the surface felt warm, like it had just been driven. I shrugged. Maybe it was just brought in or something? I walked over to the drivers side, letting my hand sliding against the hood. So far, I liked the feel of this car. I turned my head to look at Sam, who was looking at a bunch of other crap-cars.

"Hey, Sam! Come check out this beauty!"

At the word 'beauty,' I thought I felt the hood rumble slightly under my hand, but I ignored it. I looked back at the car before I reached for the drivers door and opened it. I leaned down to look inside, and I saw the interior looked just as nice and pretty as the outside. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a small disco ball and an angry bumblebee that looked surprisingly cute. I smiled as I hopped inside and sat in the comfortable, cushioned seat. I reached up and grabbed the stirring wheel, rubbing my thumbs along the ring, trying to get a feel of it. So far, it felt good. Really good. I glanced up, and through the windshield I saw Sam standing in front of the car, running his hand over the hood. Bobby was standing on the other side.

"Nice find, Emma," he said as he walked over to the driver's side. "This one ain't that bad. It's even got racing stripes."

"Yeah, it got racing…" Bobby leaned over the car. "What the heck is this? I don't know nothing about his car. Manny! What is this?"

I rolled my eyes as I turned back to the stirring wheel. It was at that moment that I noticed there was something in the wheels' center, but it was covered with dust. I licked my thumb and rubbed it against the center. Once the dust was cleared I saw that there was some sort of symbol on the wheel. It appeared to be the face of a man, and it looked like he was almost smiling.

"What do you think that is?" Sam asked, pointing at the face.

"Dunno. The last owner must've put it there," I guessed. "Probably some sort of gang symbol or something."

"How much?" I heard my dad ask.

Instantly my head shot up and I looked over at him. Was my dad really going to buy this car? Please buy it! Please buy it! Please, please, please!

"Well," Bobby leaned down over the car. "Considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job…"

"But the paint's faded," Sam interjected.

"Yeah, but it's custom."

I raised and eyebrow. "So… custom faded?"

"Well, it's your first car. I wouldn't expect you to understand." Bobby looked at my dad. "Five grand."

"No, I'm not paying over four."

My jaw fell open. "But, dad!"

He looked down at me. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I can't."

"Alright girly," Bobby patted the hood. "Come on, out the car."

"But- But you said cars pick-"

"I know what I said, and now I'm telling you to get out the car," he walked over to the car next to us. "Come on, you can check out this beaut."

I looked over at Sam and saw he was just as disappointed as I was. But he stood up and walked around to the front. I sighed sadly, looking around the inside of the car.

"Sorry, bae," I said sadly, patting the stirring wheel.

I shook my head as I reached over to open the door. But just as I opened it I slammed back shut, and I yelped. At the same time, the door to the passenger seat swung open, hitting the other car hard. I looked around and stared. Suddenly, there was a static coming from the inside of the car. I glanced down and saw the dial was turning on it's own. A second later, I heard something…

"Better than man…"

I gasped slightly. Suddenly there was a loud, base-like sound that issued from the car. The noise vibrated all over the lot, and at once, all the windows of all the other cars burst into shards. I yelped as I hunched over in my seat, feeling scared even though I knew I was out of harms way. It almost felt like the my seat curled up a bit, as though it was hugging me.

After a few seconds I slowly lifted my head up, feeling a little more safer. I poked my head through the window and out at the lot. It was a complete mess. Broken glassed covered the entire place. Bobby was standing in the middle of the area, his whole body shaking. Then he whipped around to look at us.

"Four thousand!" he said in a shaky voice.

We all stared at him, stunned by what had happened and his abrupt change of mind. I was the first to recover.

"I get to drive first!" I shouted. "I call Seniority! I call Big Sisterhood! I call everything! But I'm driving it first!"

As I continued my rant, I thought I heard a small, almost happy wine coming from the radio.


Yep. This is what i've done. This is what i'm doing with my life. Well, i hope you like it. If you do i'll start writing the next one after i come home from my friend's house tomorrow. Bye.