Okay, so this is my second time posting this. I would love to clear up a few things because when I first posted this, I was so happy, so proud of myself for finally posting something that I enjoyed so much. Something that I wasn't afraid to show to my friends in real life, something I knew I could be good at.

Then I got the nasty. Every writer gets one. I've had a couple myself, but they were minor nasties, minor flames that could easily be put out. But this one was a full in-depth flame, a raging forest fire. I'm not ashamed to admit that I didn't read the full flame, it just ruined me because I had been working on this for months and I loved this character. It ruined me because it was the first review. I was honestly thinking about quitting. And I tried so hard to.

So many people have reviewed and Private messaged me saying so many good things, and I cried. I cried tears of joy because this is what this site should be about, people supporting other writers, not just saying 'this is stupid'

So I am thankful for everyone who supports me and I am going to try one last time. And because people might get offended by this, I will like to put up some warnings:

WARNING: I am a sixteen year old girl. I do not have a mindset of a male. I am white. This character is meant to be rude, annoying and arrogant. The way he views things is not nessisarily how I view things. There will be changes in how he views things. There is very coarse language. The cars decription is because of a character change early on. There will be changes later on in the plot. The humor is greatly exaggerated.

The character background (as much as I can give)for all those who think I'm racist:

Name: Julian.

Age: 17

Race: Latino American.

Moved from: Spain-Canada-America

If if any of the above may offend you in anyway, please do not review. If the story offends you, please do not review. Do not come back to this story. This is my way to improve my writing. If you not support this fact, then please stop here.

I want to improve my writing. I need your help to do so.

Please read all of the above before reading.

(Have I covered everything? I believe so)

Eastern Apple.

this story if Un Betaed

This place was creepy. There, I said it, happy now? But I know it wasn't his fault. He's not to blame, he's an old senile man, running an old wooden bookshop/knick-knack shop in the middleof Mission City. (What Fuckin' Mission? To become a City?) This man could only pay one employee at a time and days are short. Stacking books were also a bitch.

But he is my uncle, so I kinda have to be considerate to him. He did take me in when I was eleven and give me a place to stay. There's only one thing that creates a rift between us; Country Pride.

You see, I was born a Canadian. Uncle was born an American. This sorta makes me irritable, a Canadian in a country of trigger-happy Americans, it's like a horror movie.

Narrator: It was time…

For Julian's story.

BIG WORDS: CANADIAN IN AMERICA!

Narrator: A Land without free healthcare...

Coming soon to Theaters.

Something like that.

But he's my new-found...second cousin-uncle or whatever. He had custody of me.

I'm sure you'all want some sob story about how a sorry S-O-B came in and killed my parents right in front of me and I went gung-ho and slashed his neck before shooting a bullet in his associate's face. Or about how they got killed in a car crash by a giant Semi or a lamborghini and I get revenge by slashing their tires? Or how about a police chase, where giant alien robots had a death match in a heavily populated area where millions of people have died? (Like this'll ever happen)

It was none of that. They left me.

Okay, now each one of you are likely saying 'Aww, you poor abused thing'. Screw you. They were pretty much the best middle class family there was, no abusing here. I have never once been slapped across the face, by anything. Ok, sure there was that one time in P.E softball, but that has nothing to do with my parents!

Ahem.

Both of them lost their jobs around the same time and they were worried they couldn't take care of me no-more, so they dumped me at my uncle's and went to join the military, even if they were about 38.

Thats pretty much my life story. So now I go to some high school in the middle of nowhere Johnsonville* because my uncle was freaking out and didn't want to send me to some public school(Again) that stunk or a private school that was pricey. So...he decided on one either me or him drive an hour to get to.

Yeah, he is a bit nutty.

But I like him. Somewhat.

And his car. Mainly his car. Okay, just his car.

And if you see his car, you'll be crapping your pants in how sweet that ride is. Wooh. The thing is literally running on horse power, as it was a Mustang. The car is about 7 years old, but man, do I love it.

(Dad had a thing about Fords. It seems to run in the family).

It was painted a nice blue/white combo with bright red rims and accents. This thing demanded attention. And attention I give it. Because, hey, if I can't get it out of the garage, I'll make sure that there is no speck of dust on it!

(Plus, If I take good enough care of it, I'll probably get it!)

Back to my Uncle.

His name is Jarred, and is about 12 years older than my dad, so around 68 and should be retired….BUT, he lives in America and his 'company' doesn't have a pension plan, so he isn't retired.

Jarred is senile, I swear. He forgets everything and has about a bajillion pills that over half are out of date (I hide those from him) and most noticeably is my name. He calls me Jenna, Josephine, Jacquin, Jenesse, Janette, and most often, Dandi. No idea why that last one. Yeah, my name is Julian (Not King Julian from Madagascar).

He also forgets that I have to go to school…

So, here I am, an hour before school starts (It takes an hour and 30 minutes to get to school, on average) debating on wether to get a speeding ticket with the Mustang, or steal Uncle's other piece of shit that has to have a 'cannot go over 40' warning label. Either way, I'm screwed. Teachers here seriously suck balls.

"Jeannette!" There's the senile uncle that I know and hate. "You aren't going to school young man, this whole week." The slouching 6'2 man rounded the corner, faster than I thought a person with a walker could move. I had to jump because it was like some horror movie, or something.

"What?" I looked at him like he was mad, "Dude, I have a report to do!"

He only scoffed, "Then email it or whatever ya kids do these days." One trait that runs in the family, stubbornness. Plus all male children start with 'J', but that's some other creepy story that I don't really want to talk about at the moment.

(Hint, apparently there's this curse that dates back to when we were slaying Aztecs, I have no idea what it is, but then again, i don't really care)

"I dun't want ya leavin, cause something bad is gunna happen." Uncle got this crazed look in his eye. It was like he was high or something.

I had to ask, "Did you take your meds-"

"'Course I took my meds, what do ya think i am, a hooker?!" I gave him a flat look. I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole if he decide to wear stilettos. He'd also look like a bad reenactment of the Grinch, with him being the villain. "And ya ain't going, I said so, now go watch some tv or somethin'...damn brats." He hobbled away from the garage, aka, my man cave, and back into his little room that literally contains everything a person needed to survive.

And since the said senile old man forgot that he ran a bookstore, I decided that today I will run it.

Yes, a delinquent can be responsible for once.

I threw my bag, loaded with projects that I knew I would get just a passing grade for, onto the dirty yellowed cloth couch that was older than I was.

As I settled for a long a boring day at the store, seeing only really avid book readers looking for something different or college students looking like they needed a certain textbook that they lost and/or accidently trashed. There was a total of six people in the span of 3 hours, only two lasting more than ten seconds.

It was turning to hour 4 when it happened. When something exploded from our garage, taking out almost the whole house, and oddly enough, leaving the Uncle-cave alone. That's a sight I would rather unsee.

I ran outside, ignoring the screams around the street to see who would try and blow up my car. Said car was racing out of the garage like it was on fire. And it kinda was, because, you know, explosion.

And before I knew it, the guy who stole it shot right past me. The guy didn't exist for that split second I looked at the driver's seat, yet there was a silhouette of a driver as I followed the car with my eyes through the back window.

"You better bring that car back asshat!" I yelled at him before a good dozen military jeeps with some fancy cars almost ran me over.

I stared wide-eyed before running to the other side of the street. Hacking into a car that I knew the owner abandoned, I kicked it into drive.

Luckily, Uncle had enough sense to grab pants and his wallet. He hobbled as fast as he could into the passenger's seat. The door wasn't even closed before I did a u-turn and booked it in the opposite direction of Mission City.

"Jeremy! What are ya doing-my books!" Uncle pressed his underweight body into the backseat to stare out the back window like one of sob children stories.

"Uncle, I honestly do not want to go anywhere near the military. If they find that I don't have an American citizenship, they'll shoot me on sight." That and they were chasing the stolen car that was not street-legal because it didn't have a valid license plate.

"Son, turn this car-" a building, by the sounds of it, seemed to collapse. "On secon' thought, push this thing to the metal." Uncle sounded scared and that was the only time I swear he was sober.

"Already on it. Why?" I wanted to turn around so badly, but all these people were slow ass drivers, and I need to keep my eyes on the road. We didn't have insurance.

"There are giant robots playing King Kong." Was all he replied before his lightweight was slumped in the seat, pressing against the back of mine.

I knew he fainted, I also knew that wasn't good for his health, but honestly, this has been a pretty crappy day for me, and it's not even one yet. Hopefully, we'll make this out alive.

You know when I said 'we'? Change of plans. There is no 'we' in 'we'll make this out alive', because I will personally kill this geezer. He honestly does not realize that we are on the run for our lives, running from alien metal-people.

And he wants to go to sonic and get a slushie!

Not happening. No way in hell.

But the car I had hijacked, (uncle still thinks its his car, a chevy does not look like a dodge), had ran out of gas, in the middle of an abandoned road. My luck today has turned for the worst. Neither of us had a cellphone.

Blame Uncle, too cheap to buy one. I would've even settled for an old flip phone, from like, 1982 or something.

My hair, which to defy social norms of the male populace, I kept long, had decided that today was a nice day to remind me that it was hairwashing day and went all greasy, almost dripping wet with oil from my scalp. Hey, everyone has this oil, mine just doesn't have that good of an on and off switch.

I was annoyed, to say the least imaginative word that comes to mind. It was baking out here and I had the wonderful idea to keep my image up and wear black leather. At least it is a coat. Bad thing is, I'm very self conscious about my body, the few acquaintances I have tell me I shouldn't. I like to call them acquaintances because friends are for people who think you are a good influence. I am not a good influence.

Somewhat. I have a job. Beat that.

Back to my Uncle, who was whining like a child for the hundredth time about these 'candy slushies' from sonic. I honestly don't give a crap because there is nothing of sustenance within get a hundred mile radius. Slushies were the last thing on my mind.

I was debating walking at least a good mile to find anything to drink, but that would leave Uncle alone. A very bad idea. Or to dig a six foot hole, throw said senile old man in and leave.

Option two is looking a lot better at the moment.

"Jorgia, I'm hungry, where are the granola bars I stashed in here?" As my guardian decided to rip the car apart looking for his non-existent granola bars, I sat on the car hood, pondering about ways to discreetly kill my relative.

So far, I'm on idea number 36.

"Ah, Julia, I found them!" Scratch that, we have food. I jump off the car hood and grab a box of food before the shitty geezer could hog them all. I look at the box.

It was granola bars. The shitty healthy kind. I looked at boxes Uncle had.

I had to take a second look. That bitch had the sugar-filled one and freaking everything that wasn't healthy. I didn't want a hyper old man on my hands.

"Okay, so, I have a phone that I just magically found, so I will walk that way," I pointed down the road in the way we came from. I made sure he was listening, "and you will stay here," it was like I was talking to a dumb three year old, "comprende?"

"Si." And with that, Uncle holes himself in the backseat of the crappy Cooper. I sigh, shrug off my leather jacket and walk.

I walked for a good mile and a half before finally getting a tiny bar of service on the almost dead (stolen) phone. I dial 911 and waited for it to ring. What the police don't know won't hurt them.

Surprisingly, it took a few calls to get through.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Yeah, uh, you know the mission city incident? See, my uncle and I were fleeing and our car ran out of gas." I couldn't help but smile sheepishly.

"Well, sir, I'm afraid that you will have to wait."

That made me blink, smile falling from my face faster than the meteor killing the dinosaurs. "What?"

"Sir, we don't have a resources to send a tow truck to get you. Do you have any relatives or friends to call?"

What an asshole, I thought. Instead, being a Canadian, said, "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Forgot to call them." Oh god I don't have any friends! "Bye." Shit! The fuck am I supposed to do now!?

Click.

I stared at my phone before debating on throwing it on the ground. I decided not to. And for some reason, the police seemed to want nothing to do with Mission City.

I have no relatives here, since they all live in Spain. No friends because to parents I am a bad influence.

Seriously, people, I look like I should be selling drugs on a street corner.

A blue and white car flew by me at insane speeds, before screeching to a halt meters away. The sound made me look and I saw it.

The car.

The asshole who stole it, who I am 100% sure does not exist, decided to return the car. Cool.

The car reversed and the tinted windows, which were not as tinted as before, so the asshole changed the windows, rolled the passengers down.

There was nobody in the car.

It seems I was staring for a minute. "Are you going to get in or what?" I looked at the radio, where the voice seemed to be coming from.

"...are you Metal Giant?" I had to ask. I really had to.

The car was visibly shaking. "Bitch, no. No no no…." The car was laughing with his deep mechanical voice. Well, not that deep, it sounded mechanical, but like Tom Hiddleston deep. "No, I am a sentient car. And giant robot that changes into a car."

I opened my mouth, "I am not Japanese, nor am I a Gundam fighter. Just get into the fucking car."

So I did what the car told me and got into the car. The door closed behind me. "now, where's Jarrett?"

I looked at the radio, "Half a mile that's way. He's the one hyped up on sugar-coated candies." The mustang did as it was told and continued to drive on.

The radio blared to life again, "Question, why are you not freaking out?" It seemed as confused as a racehorse going right.

I tilted my head my gazed out the window, "Dunno. Weird things don't usually faze me." Oh how wrong I was going to be.

A month later I was freaking out about how they were aliens and they were freaking out because they thought I knew. It was just a giant freak out day that only ended when someone shot me with a tranquilizer. Not a very fun day.