When Lightning Strikes
By LitaHardyY2J
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I got the idea for this story from reading Jenny Carrol/Meg cabot's, 1-800-Where-R-U series. If you've read the four book series, (And I very highly recommend you do) You'll notice similarities in this story. Number one being that I took the first book in the series' name for my own story. I even stole one (marked) paragraph out of the book with the plan to rewrite it later on, but never could to my liking. That said, I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it, It's definitely becoming high in my favorite's. No money is being made on this story, no plagiarism intended. I don't own Amy Dumas, Matt Hardy, Dean Malenko, Trish Stratus or any other characters we might come in contact with, you know who you are.
Author's notes: So far, I have seven chapters written. The reason I am only posting this one is because, one I want to see how you all like it, and two, I am constantly going through the story and tweaking it here and there, changing things when I come up with new ideas. So don't be surprised if I even repost this with some minor changes. But this chapter is the one I tweak the least, I think I've done all I can for it.
PS: I know absolutely nothing about motorcycles, or about fixing cars. The only thing I've ever done is check the oil and throw some water in it when it overheats, and that's the extent of my knowledge. I kind of just winged it on the rest; so I hope, number one that I don't look too ignorant and number two that I don't offend those of you who actually work with cars.
Summary: Sixteen year old Amy Dumas was never very popular(despite being head cheerleader Trish Status's best friend), nor was she one of the social rejects of the school; and that was how she liked it. The only thing she cared about was working at her uncles garage and finding ways to get Dean Malenko to leave her alone. Until one day the hottie Buzzer Matt Hardy rode into her garage and asked her to go for a ride. Now everyone wants to know about the very first Townie/Buzzer couple, and Amy just wants to go back to being a shadow at the school, with the exception of having Matt by her side. Will there always be rumors flying around about them or will they finally turn into yesterdays news? Written in first person, the story is a tribute to Meg Cabot.
Introductions
It was all Dean Malenko's fault. Honestly, it was. If it weren't for him, none of us would be in this mess. Okay, maybe I should back up a little, you know, start at the beginning. See, my best friend Trish Stratus and me where on our way to work. I know what your thinking, me and Trish Stratus, best friends? Yeah right. But really, even though we're like, exact opposites, we get along great. Most of the time, anyway.
Well, like I was saying, we were on our way to work; or rather, I was on my way to the shop and Trish was on her way to the Dairy Queen next door, when Dean comes rolling up in his corvette.
"Hey ladies," he greeted with that slimy smirk of his. "How about a ride?" Now, don't get me wrong, I love Vettes; but come on, it going to take more than that to get me in any car with Dean.
"How about you get lost?" Trish questioned back and I grinned in agreement.
"Not a bad idea, Melenko." I added as we continued on our way.
Ever the oblivious one, Dean kept driving next to us. "Hey Amy, when's your break?" he asked.
"Beat it." I said, and for good measure kicked his tire.
"Hey, watch it. You mess my baby up and you fix it." He grumbled at me. I knew how to get him where it hurts. Dean had spent two summers working his ass off and not spending a dime to get that car.
"Well anyway, maybe I'll see you lovely ladies around sometime, huh?" with this last reply, and without waiting for an answer, he slammed on the gas and sped away.
"What a creep." Trish said when he was out of sight, not that she wouldn't have said it in front of him; because she did, and often.
"I know," I said as the shop where I worked came into view. "You'd think since we've become sophomores he'd leave us alone and start on the new freshman." This was Dean favorite pastime, hitting on almost all the freshman girls.
It only got that much worse when he finally bought his car, feeling, I guess, that no girl could resist a collage guy in a Corvette. And hey, I admit that some of them were able to look past jerk in him as long as they were seen by fellow classmates getting out of his car. But, come on. Trish and I had so blatantly proved that we could. Resist him, I mean. So why did he keep at it?
"When is your break, anyway?" she asked as we paused outside of the Dairy Queen.
"I dunno, whenever yours is. Just come over and we'll go get some pizza." I replied. True, we could have eaten at DQ for free but, as Trish informed me the day I pointed this out, since she had to work there all night, the last thing she wanted to do was eat there on her break. So we always settled for Pizza Hut across the street.
"Okay, it'll probably be around eight." She said and, with a mutual 'See ya' we parted ways.
I know some, okay, most people hate their jobs, but I am happy to say I am one of the few who absolutely love to work. Really. See my uncle, my father's brother, owns the shop in town, Ange's Shop and Repair, and I've been working there since I could remember. Doing little things at first until he finally said I was old and mature enough to help with the repairs. Cars are my passion, just give me a tool set and some parts and I'm in heaven.
When I'm not at school or at the shop, you can usually find me in our garage at home tinkering with some car part. Drives my mother absolutely nuts, all she wants is for me to be homecoming queen like she was when she was my age. Yeah, like that's ganna happen.
"Hey uncle Angelo." I greeted as I walked into the office.
"Hey Niece Amy." He replied in his usual fashion.
"What's on the agenda today? Anything exciting?" I asked hopefully. He laughed heartily, shaking his head.
"'Fraid not little greaser," he said while I clocked in. "But you can go ahead and do that oil change if you want." He added casually, like he let me do jobs by myself all the time.
"Really? You mean it?" I asked excitedly. I tried to be cool about it but inside my stomach was doing summersaults. Ange never let me do anything by myself, not that he didn't trust me. I knew he did when he let me do a check up on his baby, a hyped out bike that, after he tuned it up, went from zero to sixty in ten seconds flat.
"Sure, you've done them plenty of times before. But I'm going to go in my office for a while so watch for costumers and don't bother me with anything that's not important. Oh and change the battery on the Kia and put a new tire on the truck, will ya?" with those instructions, he was gone, closing and locking the office door before shutting the blinds. I was in heaven; I practically had the whole shop to myself and I was doing my first solo job. It just didn't get any better than this.
I pulled my shoulder length red hair back into a tight ponytail that I knew would be a mess by the time I was finished. Pulling on my greaser suit, I went to turn on the radio and got to work. The battery and tire I did first since they where the easiest then I went over to the station wagon to do the oil change.
You'd think since it was my first solo that I would be nervous, thinking I might mess up something but, next to the previous ones, Oil changes were one of the easy jobs on a car. Besides, I had done it for my mother once before and did it fine.
For those of you who've never done an oil change, the main problem is the grease. Most of the time you get it all over you when you have to drain it, which doesn't really bother me. You get grease on you; you wash it off, no big deal. Right? Well, heaven forbid you should say something like that to my mother who, as I think I've mentioned, can't get over the fact that her little girl would rather spend her time under a car than go to cheerleader practice.
Her main argument is 'Trish could make the team, certainly you could too.' Yeah ma, but then when would I have time for the shop? Not to mention the fact that, besides Trish, I hated cheerleaders and everything to do with them.
I was just finishing up on the station wagon when my ears caught the sound of a bike pulling up into the garage. I rolled out from under the car when my eyes fell on a completely cherried-out Indian. May I just take this opportunity to point out that the one thing I have always wanted is a motorcycle? This one purred too. I hate those guys who take the muffler off their bikes so they can gun it real loud while they try to jump the speed bumps in the teacher parking lot. This guy had it tuned up so it ran quiet as a kitten. Painted all black, with shiny chrome everywhere else, this was one choice bike. I mean mint. The guy riding it wasn't bad on the eyes either.
"Hey," I greeted with my best smile, just hoping to get my hands on that bike. "Help ya?" I asked while wiping my hands off on a rag I fished out from my back pocket. When he took off his helmet, his long black hair, tied semi-neat falling out I instantly recognized him.
"Hey stranger," he smiled at me. "Don't tell me you forgotten me already?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"How can I forget my cell mate?" I asked in reply with a grin. Okay, okay, calm down and let me explain, it's not what it sounds like. Last month, Dean and I had what my guidance counselor called an 'altercation' and the rest of the school just plain called a fight, though it was neither really.
See, it all started when Dean went joy riding in his new Vette. Eventually he ended up at the park where my kid brother and one of his friends were hanging out. Seeing it that was my brother, Dean, being the asshole that he is, went over to basically start a fight. Just said something to piss Alex off and get him to take the first swing. In any case, it worked.
My brother has fiery temper and it didn't take much to get him going if you know what to say. A couple of choice words about his older sister for instance. Now, Alex can fight- don't get me wrong. But, come on. Like I mentioned before, Deans in collage and Alex is only thirteen. He had his friend, also thirteen, backing him up but it only ended up that both of them got beat.
I, unlike my brother, am pretty laid back. It takes me a while to get mad, unless it's something big. Needless to say, when I found out about what Dean did I was hot, and I mean hot. The next day before school, first thing in the morning, I went to find Dean. He, as usually, was hitting on some girls in the parking lot before going to the collage near by. Without saying a word, I punched him as hard as I could in the face, resulting in nice shiner for him and two weeks detention for me for fighting on school property. It was so worth it, even though it didn't get him off my back. If anything, he bothered me more.
Anyway, first day of detention I met this guy, Matt Hardy. Tall, dark and handsome comes to mind when you see him. He has an easy smile and eyes a shade lighter than his dark hair. Muscular too, though I knew from the many games I had to go watch with Trish cheering that he wasn't on any school team. At least, none the cheerleaders didn't go to, which were few. The Squad only skipped vollyball, track and wrestling.
We sat alphabetically, and since there was nobody between Dumas and Hardy we ended up next to each other. As soon as the teacher's back was turned, a note landed on my desk.
'Your Amy Dumas, aren't you?' it read. Now, I was a bit surprised, I'll admit it. I'm not a geek, but I'm not exactly miss popularity. That was more Trish. Even though it would make sense that, being the best friend of one of the most popular girls in our grade would make me popular too, it wasn't the case; and that's how I liked it. Blend in with the shadows, so to speak.
So after I wrote back saying I was, he wrote 'Our brothers are friends; Jeff was with Alex when Dean jumped them. I hear you got to him first though, nice punch.' Really, what's the coincidence of this happening? Both our little brothers getting jumped, making us jump Dean in return and earning ourselves two weeks of detention where we end up sitting together.
'Thanks' I wrote back. 'Guess I know what your in for, and why I heard Dean spent the rest of the day spitting up blood.' So that was the start of our beautiful friendship.
Well, getting back to the story, Matt and I talked while I cleaned my hands with this goop that gets all the grease off until Angelo came out of the office. Matt looked worried for a second, I guess thinking he had gotten me in trouble.
"Finished yet?" he asked, walking up to us.
"Yeah, piece of cake. Oh, this is a friend from school, Matt Hardy. Matt, this is my uncle Ange." I introduced them; wisely leaving out the part about where exactly I had met Matt. As they shook hands, Angelo's gaze fell on Matt's bike.
"That you hog?" he asked as he gave it the once over.
"Yessir, that's my baby." Matt replied proudly.
"Anything wrong with er?" Ange asked.
"Oh, no. I was just passin through and thought I'd stop in and say hey." Matt explained.
Looking slightly disappointed, Ange turned to me. "Well, you finished up all the work for tonight, so unless you want to clean shop you can get out of here." He offered. It's not that I wasn't grateful, but geez, he had practically told me to go out with Matt.
"Great, go for a ride?" he asked. Like I said, not that I wasn't grateful.