Scream of the Jet, Roar of the Plane

Chapter 01: It doesn't matter in the end

The sky was empty with the exception of the few stars and the full moon that created shadows upon the grass in the meadow. Through the leafless branches of the trees, my vision was perfect. The usual magpie's, sparrows, and crows weren't anywhere to be found. A cold wind caressed my bare legs, my arms, and the back of my neck. My toes sunk into the soft soil; the long blades of grass tickling the smooth skin on my legs. I let my hands hang at my sides, my eyes closing to the burn of the cold wind drying them up.

The meadow was a great place for me to sooth my bones and troubles here in America. It was an incredibly small place with giant birch trees that usually blocked all vision from the sky, but since it was Autumn, my vision was clear. Rose bushes hugged against the trunks of the peeling trees; small, purple flowers danced across the meadow's ground; empty nests hung snugly in trees.

Nobody knew of this place but me. I found it my first week here in America while I explored the local forest. I remember chasing a rabbit into this place. Coming here was an act of therapy, since I had trouble making friends at the local high school. My uncle had always told me that people at America loved transfer-students, and always had questions for them. At my school, that wasn't the case. People gave me the "new kid" looks and avoided sitting at me with lunch. I found refuge in a young man's heart, who was Richard McMillan. He was more than a friend in my mind, and his. Thinking about him brought a smile to my face.

I sighed, opening my eyes. A dress stuck to the skin in my front, flowing like waves in the ocean behind me. My hair flew behind me. I vaguely wondered why I was here in the late time of day, and why I wore a dress. My grandmother gave it to me, telling me to wear it on special occasions.

So, what was the special occasion? Were my host parents having a party? Was it a school dance?

I scratched them both off my list. Even if I was in an romantic relationship, I was not one for dancing, nor were my host parents ones for parties.

Giving up the subject, I let the wind whisper in my ear. But what I got was a, "Why are you out here in the cold?"

I turned my neck to the side, catching a glimpse of a man with dirty blonde hair. But he was only a blur.

His hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me to his warm body. His heat soaked through my back, up my shoulders, and down my spine. A smile dimly traced my lips. When he was around, I didn't want to retrace my steps back to Germany.

"They are going to wonder where we are at, Veronika." A soft smile could be heard from his words. He let his head rest on top of my head.

Without really knowing what he was talking about, I nodded in response. "I know."

Suddenly, he turned me around to face him. He wore a nice, white shirt with slacks and loafers. A black coat hung on his shoulder. Richard had dirty blonde hair with hair on his chin. His eyes were dark blue. He had told me when I first met him that he moved here from Australia last year, and was finishing his Junior year in America. We had gone through the same situation until we met each other, but, he had siblings while I did not. He had the beautiful, Australian accent to prove where he came from. Through the wonderful e-mail, I was able to send pictures of my lover to my mother, and she instantly approved of him, and hoped to meet him one day. My brothers teased me in a loving way, and I had not gained word from my father if he liked Richard or not. To be honest, I did not care what my father's opinion was: I was in love with Richard in many ways than one.

He smiled, wrapping the coat around my shoulders. I welcomed the heat as he laced his big hands around my small ones.

"You look lovely tonight," he complimented, stealing a quick kiss from my lips.

I blushed as he pulled me to his chest.

Richard sighed.

"I don't want you to leave." He suddenly said after a moment of silence.

Oh, yeah. The end of my stay here was coming to a close. This weekend, I would be leaving. I didn't want to be reminded of it, because I didn't want to leave him. I begged to my host parents to let me stay, but they didn't help any, and neither did my parents in Germany. Life wasn't fair.

"I don't either," I said, holding down my tears.

He breathed into my hair, closing his eyes. "Run away."

"I can't." staggered.

"Yes, you can. You can come with me. Nobody would have to know."

This time, it was my turn to sigh heavily. I pulled away gently, looking into his eyes with my hazel ones.

"What will make you stay?" he said, softly. His fingers traced down my forearms.

"Anything," I shrugged. "I told you I tried to talk to Jim and Alexandria to let me stay, but they told me I couldn't. My parents aren't a help either. If I was old enough, I'd get an apartment and stay here, but I can't: I don't have the rights yet."

Richard looked saddened, then looked down at my necklace. "What if…you disappeared?"

I tilted my head. "What do you mean?"

Suddenly, Richard looked over his shoulder. A splash of worry quickly consumed his face.

"Richard-"

He grabbed my shoulders, harshly. "I need to you run. Hide."

"What are you talk-"

He pushed me gently, trying to give me a head start. "Go!"

Before I could, the snap and pull of birch trees screamed through the air. I looked behind me only to see a flash of red and blue. Two, glowing purple eyes pierced through the sky as they fell their gaze to my location.

"You're going to have to run away."

I woke up with my eyes staring up to the white, stucco ceiling of the guest bedroom. On the table beside my bed, my phone danced in vibration. Quickly snatching it, I saw that it was a call.

Richard.

Flipping my cell phone open, I gave a tired, "Hello?"

"Hey, sleepy-head," he snickered. "Are you finally up and ready?"

I looked to the clock, which read 6:30. I over-slept. "I am now that you woke me up, Mr. Alarm Clock."

I imagined him smiling. "I'll be heading over to pick you up then," he said.

"Thank you," I said, sheepishly.

"For waking you up or giving you a ride?"

"Both."

He laughed. "You're welcomed, girlie. I'll be there in a few. Love you."

A smile traced my lips. "Love you too." And I hung up.

Since my host parents were still asleep, I made sure I was quiet when I hurried down the hall and to the bathroom. I wouldn't have enough time to curl my hair, but I made due with just brushing it out and poofing it out slightly with my fingers. After caring for my hygiene, I brushed on a quick swipe of mascara and called it good. Making my way to the guest room where my things were at, I went through my shirts, pants, socks, and shoes.

I picked a Linkin Park shirt, slightly baggy jeans and my hiking boots, slipping them on. I scooped up my camouflage pack and my cell phone, my iPod. Looking into the mirror on the dresser, I fixed my hair, rubbed the sleep out of my hazel eyes carefully, and fixed my locket. After I was ready, the clock read 6:41. I felt accomplished in the eleven minutes I took to get ready.

I was interrupted by a rev of an engine from outside. A grin spread my lips as I quickly paced down the hall, disarmed the alarm, and opened the front door. I made sure the screen door shut without its usual slam, and then gave my attention to Richard's motorcycle. A helmet rested at the crook of his arm, a casual grin sweeping his lips. I jogged down the lawn.

Richard wore a white tank-top with a dark green, button up over-coat with the sleeves rolled up and the collar stuck up high. His pants were baggy on his hips and ripped at the knees. Tan construction boots fit snuggly around his feet. His silver chain with a locket – matching mine – hung at his collar bone. Handing me the helmet, he greeted me with a, "You look great for just waking up."

As I got the helmet on and scooted up behind him, he continued, "But, you look great all of the time."

I wrapped my arms around his abdomen, smiling. "Thanks. You look great for illegally not wearing your helmet on the way over here."

"Thanks," he laughed. Then, changed the subject. "Where do you want to go to get a coffee?"

"Chevron, please," I chirped.

"Whatever you say." Richard then revved the engine, giving it gas, and took off down the road.

From the house, it only took a few minutes to get to the Chevron. He cut the engine while I unbuckled my helmet, and climbed off the bike. He laced his fingers through the gaps of mine as we opened the doors to get in the gas station. We made our way to the coffee, and he got himself and I a cup. As I filled mine with Hot Chocolate, he filled his with black coffee. Before it was filled up, he questioned:

"You must've been having a pretty good dream, seeing you woke up late. Mind me askin' what the dream was?"

I shrugged, putting the cap on my cup and retrieving a thin, red straw. "The meadow, that's really all."

I heard Richard sigh.

I turned, "What's wrong, babe?"

He cupped his hand at my hip. He was upset about something. The something I knew too-well about. "I just don't look forward to you leavin', that's all."

I looked down, sealing a lid on his coffee. "I know…I don't want to either. But, let's not talk about that now," I said in a changed tone. "We can talk about it after school."

"I won't be here," said he.

"Why?"

"I have an interview with my dad's boss right after school."

"Really? That's great!" I said. I knew he had been wanting a job for some time. "I hope it goes well."

He smiled, welcoming my support.

After he paid, we made our way back to the bike and headed for school. Today was a A day, which meant we had Art, English, and Theatre 3 together. We didn't have our fourth hour together, seeing that he had engineering and I had Seminary. I hated my last class. My host parents told me to take it. It only took me the first day to realize that they were strict, religious people and that the class didn't count for a grade. I tried to get out of it, but I couldn't find another opening for another class, and I didn't need to anger my host parents: they were angered enough by the fact that I circled my beliefs around the evolution theory and Darwin's theory. Richard was no exception: they hated him too.

I had always been a good student, except when it came to dumb ol' Seminary: that class, I slept or drew in. My grades were solid A's and B's, which was very good. When I got good grades, my host parents trusted me more frequently, and it got my real parents excited. With good grades, I was hoping to gain access to an American college, so I could continue my relationship with Richard. But, I'd need help getting there, and my parents as of yet were not going to approve of me going across the world again.

In art class, Richard and I sat in the back. I thought it was sweet that he changed most of his schedule to mine. He wasn't the best at art, but I helped him through it.

Right now, we were free to chat and free-draw for a small grade. In my lap was a clean sketchbook. My iPod was sat on the table with one earbud in my right ear, the other in Richard's left. The song was on a low volume to When we stand together composed by Nickleback. It was my favorite band, and Richard knew this: he had gotten me most of their CD's. I had gotten him all of his favorite Country bands, which included The Zac Brown Band, Toby Keith, Rascal Flatts, Billy Currington, and so many more. We lived on music.

Little did I know, Richard was staring at my paper. "Honestly, I don't know how you draw like that."

"I've been drawing forever," I pointed out to him. "Practice makes perfect."

While I succeeded in drawing people, animals, and some landscapes, Richard made due with band logos, stick figure battles, and funny comic strips – which were also stick figures. On his paper were various band logos, as well as detailed words and a pair of stick figures holding hands in the corner of the page. I assumed it was us, and smirked.

"That's pretty."

His brow furrowed. "It is not."

"Yes," I chimed. "It is."

He grumbled something I didn't catch. I giggled and scooted closer to him. "See, that looks like you, and that looks like me."

He gave up, and nodded.

"It's cute!"

He rolled his eyes.

I gave a half smile and continued to my doodle, which was the beginning detail of a dragon. I loved dragons, especially ones that could swim. Maybe that was because my favorite color were shades of blue and purple, and that's why I loved the ocean. Who knew.

Before the bell rang, the Art teacher called me. "Veronika, could you come here please?"

I set my sketchbook down and walked over. "Yes, sir?"

My teacher was a tall, lanky man with rectangular glasses resting on his long nose. He held out a slip of paper for me. Pink.

I could feel Richard's eyes burning at my back.

Steadily, I took the thin piece of parchment.

"The Principle would like to see you," confirmed my teacher. I nodded. "Take your stuff with you; the bell's going to ring shortly."

I honestly had no idea where the principle's offices was. Before I could question, the teacher told me Richard could take me.

He quickly obliged, pushing his stuff in his binder and sliding my things in my pack.

I came over.

"What's that for?" he asked, taking the pink paper from my grasp. "'Come to the Principle's office at teacher's convenience.'" He read. "Hmm." Skeptical.

I picked up my stuff and he did too. We walked out of the classroom in silence, and in the hall, we held each other's hand.

"What do you think she wants?" asked Richard in a soft, low voice.

"I don't know," I said, nervous. I hadn't done anything wrong, so why did I have to go to the principle's office?"

We had to go downstairs to get to the office. It was in the far side of the building, so I consumed every moment I could in safety with my boyfriend. I never cooperated well with beings of authority, and being from a whole different country, I could have easily offended or broken a law by mistake. I just hoped I didn't.

When we got to the office, Richard told me that he'd wait for me outside. I nodded, and went in the office. Once I was in there, I quietly closed the door behind me. The walls were dark blue with white tile flooring. The desk was a dark ebony color with a few pictures at its corners. There was some sort of plaque on his desk, and a name plaque that read: A. S. Sovereign. Inside, I laughed. A man sat behind the desk. His hair was thinning, and had a big, gray beard with black eyes and glasses. He wore a dark blue suit and a black tie.

"Have a seat, Ms. Kaufmann," said the principle, nodding to a black leather chair.

I took a seat rather quickly, folding my hands in my lap.

When I said nothing, the man continued. "Your parents called."

Damn.

He sighed. "You will be leaving earlier than you previously thought, Ms. Kaufmann."

"How early is earlier?"

"Saturday."

I just stared at him. Saturday? But, it's Wednesday! "But, why am I leaving then? I'm supposed to leave the twenty-sixth of December…"

He scratched his head. "Your…brother, I'm assuming, has come back from the army."

I watched him in silence.

"He's…passed on."

Richard came to get me as soon as he said those three, nerve racking words. I was able to swallow up my tears until the door closed, and I let my tears soak into his shirt. I still didn't have the need to leave, but Ulrich dying was more than enough to at least see my grieving family. The principle had told me I would have left today, but he insisted I stay for the rest of the week. My host parents had also been informed.

Richard was not the least bit happy.

The only way he didn't express his anger was when he soothed me uplifting words whispering in my ear; his fingers trailing through my blonde hair. He was going to take me home, since it was plainly obvious I would not be completing the day at school.

My boyfriend quickly signed me out, and held my hand in his cold palm as we made our way to his motorcycle. He put my helmet on and fastened it at my chin. I wrapped my arms around his waist half-heartedly as he started his bike; making his way down the student parking lot.

Before I closed my eyes and leaned into the back of his shirt, I thought I heard Richard talking to someone else.

But to be honest, I did not care.

Author's Note: ((Author's Notes will always be at the bottom of each entry)) So, this is chapter one. I only own Veronika Kaufmann. Transformers rightly belong to Hasbro/Takara, and this fanfiction is purly for entertainment. I know this chapter is pretty short, but this story is meant to be a short one. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.