This fanfic will forever go down in history as the third "My Life as a Teenage Robot" fanfic ever! You know you like a show when you start writing your own stories about it after seeing only two episodes. :D
I just got to thinking that all of Jenny's friends are guys. Brad, Tuck, and Sheldon are all great, but wouldn't she like to have a girl friend? (Brit and Tiff don't count, of course.) So, here's the first chapter of my little idea. The next one will be up as soon as I finish writing it. Let me know what you guys think of it!
Chapter One: Gloomy Girl
From her desk, Jenny watched the second hand intensely as it ticked its way around the clock face. It read two fifty-nine. At three o'clock, the school day would end and she would be free to leave. Her own internal clock read four minutes after three, and she knew that it was the correct time since the clock was perfectly synchronized with the Earth's rotation and its orbit around the sun. However, she also knew that none of the school's clocks were. They were all exactly five minutes and twenty-three seconds slow, but no one besides Jenny seemed to know or care about it. She had no choice but to sit and wait.
The second hand now pointed to six. Thirty seconds to go. Jenny began tapping her eraser on her desk anxiously. Couldn't that hand move any faster?
Twenty-five. Twenty. Ten. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
RIIIIIIINNNNG!
It took three seconds for Jenny to stuff all of her things into her backpack and fly out the door in a blur of blue and white. Normally it would have taken two, but she had to make sure the door was open this time. The vice-principal, Mr. Rizinski, would have been very upset if she'd broken it again.
In the hallway, Jenny was forced to slow down as other students began leaving their classes. It was now too crowded for her to run, and she didn't want to accidentally mow someone down. She walked the rest of the way to her locker, knee joints whirring and metal feet tapping on the tiled floor. As she twisted the dial on the lock, she looked around casually at the other kids. A few girls from her gym class waved to her as they passed by. She smiled and waved back, glad that they had acknowledged her.
School had been a mostly enjoyable experience for Jenny, even after the fire. She had been regarded as a hero for a while, but as time went by without further incidents, things went back to normal. Mr. Rizinski still kept a suspicious eye on her, but Jenny didn't mind. She was just glad for the opportunity to be around other teenagers and do normal teenage things, no matter how unexciting they might be.
Jenny took out the textbooks she needed for homework and closed the locker door. Just then, she noticed a crowd of girls coming down the hall, lead by two girls dressed in pink and black. Jenny's eyes lit up. It was the Crust cousins.
Tiffany Crust noticed Jenny as she made her way through the crowded hall. She nudged her taller cousin Brittany and whispered to her loudly. "Heads up, Brit! Iron giant at twelve o'clock!"
Brittany Crust looked up from her conversation with another girl. Sure enough, there was the unmistakable six-and-a-half foot tall robot girl. Brittany rolled her eyes and groaned. "Oh, bother. Not her again!"
Everyone knew that the Crust cousins were responsible for burning the school down. However, once the two girls got out of jail, they had managed to restore their popularity by claiming it was all an accident. Most of the students believed them and that was that. But the Crusts were not satisfied with this.
It was Jenny who had exposed them and gotten them arrested in the first place, and as a result, neither one of them was too fond of her. Jenny was oblivious to this, however, and was still completely determined to make friends with them. That only annoyed the Crusts and made them dislike her even more.
At last, Jenny made it through the crowded hall and stood in front of them, a big friendly smile on her face. "Hi, Brit! Hi, Tiff!" she chirped cheerfully. "How's it going?"
Brit forced herself to smile back. "Oh, same old, same old and all that." she said, waving her hand frivolously. "I can't complain, really. And you, Tiff?"
"Same." Tiff replied bluntly.
"Great!" Jenny beamed. "Hey, I'm going to the mall with Brad this afternoon, and I thought you two might want to come, too. What do you say?"
"Oh, dear!" Brit cried, looking regretful. "I'm terribly sorry, Jenny, but both of us have to study for exams tomorrow."
Tiff stifled a snicker and nodded,. "Yep! Too bad, girl! Mebbe some otha' time!"
Jenny's face fell and her mechanical pigtails drooped in disappointment. "That's okay. I understand." she said, looking down at the floor and turning to leave. "'Bye."
Brit and Tiff snickered to each other and lead their entourage away, leaving Jenny alone to sulk. She turned her head and watched them leave, sighing heavily. Just then, she heard someone speaking to her.
"Hi, Jenny!" She turned around just as Brad came up to her, smiling brightly. "Hey, good to see ya! Ready to get Tuck and go to the mall?"
Jenny continued to stare down at the floor. "Yeah." she replied, with no enthusiasm at all.
Brad looked confused. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
"No." Jenny replied blandly.
Brad raised a skeptical eyebrow. "'No,' you say? I think you mean 'yes.' Come on, Jenny, you can tell me! What's the matter?"
"Nothing." Jenny replied, still staring at the floor.
Brad tapped his chin thoughtfully. It wasn't like Jenny to be so gloomy, especially on a Friday afternoon with a visit to the mall in store. Her feelings had been hurt. "Did it have something to do with Brit and Tiff again?" he guessed.
Jenny remained silently examining her feet for a few seconds more. "Yes." she admitted at last.
Brad smiled and placed a sympathetic hand on her metal shoulder. "I know just what you need." he said, steering her down the hall. "You need 'mall therapy!' A few hours in the arcade and you'll forget all about your troubles!"
Yeah, right, thought Jenny.
Meanwhile, across town, a green station wagon parked in the driveway of a house in an idyllic suburban neighborhood. On the house's front lawn was a sign that had once read "For Sale," but was now covered by a large sticker that read "Sold." As the passengers of the station wagon got out of their car, a large moving truck pulled up in front of the house and parked.
The station wagon's driver was a tall and thin middle-aged man wearing glasses, a sweater vest and bowtie. Just by looking at him, one could tell he was the kind of man who had been beaten up by bullies a lot in school. Beside him was an attractive middle-aged woman with a blonde flip. She was the very picture of the typical '50's housewife. Slouching in the back seat was a teenage girl with long and perfectly straight blonde hair. Her seat was reclined and her headphones were blasting loud rock music as she idly browsed through the pages of a fashion magazine. She was also smacking a piece of bubblegum in her mouth. This was the Sanderson family.
Mr. Sanderson stood in the driveway and looked up at the house admiringly. "This is it, ladies!" he announced to his wife and daughter. "Our new home sweet home!"
Mrs. Sanderson stood beside her husband and smiled, revealing perfectly straight and white teeth. "I'm so glad we're finally here." she said. "I can't wait to meet out new neighbors." She turned her head and looked back at the car, where her daughter was still reading her magazine and playing her music at top volume. Mrs. Sanderson knocked on the window to get her attention. "Sam! We're here!"
Sam showed no sign that she had heard her mother's voice. Mrs. Sanderson knocked louder and tried again. "Sam! The road trip is over! It's time to get out!"
Sam blew a large pink bubble and let it pop. Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Sanderson tried again. "Samantha Sanderson!!! Turn that thing off and come out here!!!"
Rolling her eyes and groaning, Sam turned off her CD player and removed her headphones. "Yes, mom." As she climbed out of the car, she looked around at the neighborhood and the other houses lining the street. They all looked different from each other, but they all were neat and tidy with well-kept gardens. Sam was not impressed.
"Cool." she mumbled to herself. "I can hardly wait to leave."
"Hey, mister!" one of the movers called from the truck. "You want us to start bringin' your stuff in?"
"You betcha!" Mr. Sanderson called back. "That would be super! Hold on, let me help you!"
Sam wanted to shoot herself right then. It was bad enough that she had been forced to move, but her dad's corny slang completely took the cake. Thank goodness there were no other teens around, or she would never have been able to show her face in public again.
Once Mr. Sanderson had left to help the movers, Mrs. Sanderson turned to Sam with her hands on her hips. "Honey, would it kill you to be positive about this?" she asked. "I know you don't like moving, but it's not like it's the end of the world. Besides, you're father is very excited about his new assignment."
"I know." Sam whined. "But it's not fair! I've never lived anywhere for more then two years! I don't even know where to tell people I'm from when they ask me! Why do I have to suffer because of dad's job? It's totally ruining my life!"
"Believe me, honey, I know how you feel." Mrs. Sanderson said. "But we can't change anything now. All we can do is make the best of it."
Sam folded her arms and pouted, still determined to be miserable. Her mother rubbed her chin and thought for a few moments, then a light went on in her head. "Tell you what, Sam." she said, reaching into her purse. "Why don't you go into town and find something fun to do? Your dad and I will stay here and help the movers."
Sam looked up at her in surprise. "Are you serious?" she asked.
"Of course I am!" her mother smiled, holding out three twenty dollar bills to her. "As long as we're here, you might as well enjoy yourself, right?"
Sam hugged her mother, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks, mom! I love you!" With that, she took the money and ran off down the sidewalk.
"Be back before nine, honey!" Mrs. Sanderson called after her, but by then Sam was out of sight.
To be continued . . .