I apologize for any spelling and/or Grammar you may find in this chapter.
Before time began, there was the Cube. We know not where it comes from, only that it holds the power to create worlds, and fill them with life.
That is how our race was born. For a time, we lived in harmony. But for all great power, some wanted it for good, others for evil. And so began the war. A war that ravaged our planet until it was consumed by death.
And the Cube was lost to the far reaches of space. We scattered across the galaxy, hoping to find it and rebuild our home. Searching every star, every world.
And just when all hope seemed lost, message of a new discovery drew us to an unknown planet called, Earth.
But we were already too late.
Now, we move to the planet, hoping that what was stolen can somehow be retrieved. And the beings that inhabit this planet never learn of our existence.
0000 Beginnings 000
It was the day no young girl waits her entire life for.
No it wasn't the day I would stroll down the aisle to the sap I would spend the rest of my life with.
No it wasn't about to go buy some frill-tastic prom dress.
I'm not going out to get manicures or curly my hair.
It was not the day I created my fantastic AI system that would one day protect the world from devastation, earning my Nobel Peace prize award right before I was crowned eternal war lord of earth. (Cause that may or may not be on my bucket list.)
My parents weren't even buying me a flat screen Tv with surround sound.
(If anything, I would much rather just go home to watch NCIS or something stupid like that. Hell, I would even take miserable housewives over this.)
Instead I was stepping out of my dad's big, old, mud encrusted semi. Dustin is what my Dad named it.
Dustin the Semi.
Cause when we drive down those dusty highways, what sneaks through the cracks of the windows? Dust. We get dust in our eyes. DUSTIN.
Makes it sound like quite the character, doesn't it?
"This is it." Like a soldier returning home from years of war, my Dad titled his head upward, eyes gleaming with a quiet promise. He extended his hand out past his chest, waving it. "Behold." He murmured to the vast sea of fellow semi trucks. "The beauty."
"The stench." I swallowed a gag.
"The stench." He agreed dreamily. Producing a toothpick from his pocket, he clenched his teeth around it. "You ready?" He shouldn't be allowed to have toothpicks. That causes him to crave meat in the middle of the night.
Like, full on meat. He will go to the store, buy a whole woppin' two pounds of meat and eat it, raw or not.
But don't blame me when he gets salmonella and keels over.
I once saw him shred through an entire bag, his teeth pointed and his eyes red. Or, maybe that was just a dream I had after I read Twilight as a young girl and secretly hoped my neighbor Edwin was a blood sucking monster.
But the meat thing is true. My Dad keeps a secret storage of it in the basement for last minute Barbeques, cause that is the only good kind of party he can throw; A Barbeque consisting of large piles of meat and no beverages.
Not that I judge. You be you Dad.
"Mom said you shouldn't munch on those anymore." I say.
"Your mother also shouldn't go out on a full moon, sit on the roof, and howl at the dogs in the neighborhood. But she does."
I reached into his pocket to snatch his jar of toothpicks, labeled Nutrition. "She only does that every other month, not every single time she eats a toothpick."
He attempted to snatch it back, but I punted it. It crashed into one of the windows of the semi, shattering it.
"Scatter!" my dad bolted in the other direction. I slipped onto my face, rolling behind the nearest trashcan before I ninja-ed my way under a few Semi's. Regrouping a few minutes later, we glanced around, silently nodding that we were in the clear and no one saw that.
My dad patted my back, "If any one asks, we only just got here."
Wasn't going to say that people would probably be able to figure out it was us through the toothpicks that probably covered that Semi's seat, and instead nodded my head.
"Right."
"So-" my old man attempted to play every casual once more. "Excited?"
"Dad, " I said clasped his hands and looking him in the eyes, "I'd rather shave myself bald over getting a truck."
"So that is a yes then?"
"Dad no."
"Let's find Jim."
"I don't want to find Jim." He was tugging me on the arm before I could scamper away.
Jim was a buddy that apparently was going to steal us a deal today. A deal that would have me going home with one of these pedestrian crushers. Cause that is what I want to do every morning at school. Just drive a semi truck into the college parking lot, taking up at least 10 spaces all to myself. Thus causing the student body to hate me and throw eggs at my face.
And that happens. It's a Friday tradition. The teachers allow it because it allows us to bound as a student body.
Yeah, I'd like to make that a daily occurrence.
If you can't detect the sarcasm in that you might want to see someone. Preferable a doctor. Or some shady guy under a bridge who may or may not have a track record. I won't judge.
"There is still plenty of time for us to head to a different dealership and get something smaller." I reminded him.
"Only the best for my little angel." (Then why are we here?)
"The best would be a mustang or something. Something sporty. Or, Y'know, something I wouldn't have to use an entire light for just turn." I say.
"You won't take an entire light if you practiced."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure it would only take me running over 7 old ladies before I become a professional at it." I say, "I'll have each of them line up, and they will all be 50 points each. 200 hundred if I get two at the same time."
"Glad you are having fun with this baby girl." He patted my head.
I stopped walking and threw up my hands, "Sarcasm is a foreign language to you, isn't it?"
Marching through the rows of trucks, it didn't take long for us to spot a little hut kind of building seated right in the center of this circus show. It screamed, home of a single man.
"Emmett!" my father kicked at his door. "Come out here and meet my baby girl."
Emmett appeared, crawling out of his hole to hiss at the light known as the sun. I kind of wish he started to sparkle or something, but at the same time, I really didn't; cause then that would give proof that vampires actually sparkle. Thus also proving that is was possible for a dead thing to somehow make a baby with a living thing.
And I feel like people would get super weird ideas with that.
Emmett extended out his hand, "Lewis." They shook hands, bumping their elbows and head-butting the others forehead.
They cheered when they realized the other was bleeding.
I wondered if it was a truckers greeting ritual. Probably just an Emmett and my dad ritual.
Or… a possible mutual vampire ritual? I may or may not have a problem with this.
"So, where is she?" Emmett asked.
Then they turned to me. I struck a pose of anguish, hoping to subtly convey that if we didn't start making sense on my choice of vehicle, at least 8 people would die before I made it home tonight.
"Hi." He waved.
"Go to hell." I bowed. Now, take offence to that and kick us off your property. Then banish us forever when you realize we were the ones that broke one of the windows on the Semi in the back.
But instead he laughed like I complimented him. Which couldn't be right because I was also holding up my middle finger.
Did truckers- possible vampires- not know what this means?
"So what are we looking for today Lewis?" Emmett asked. They were moving past me and down the steps.
"Something with a good engine and miles preferably." My dad replied
I stood in a bewildered silence, hand in the hair, legs starting to ache.
And… so much for subtle.
Falling back, I slithered after them, muttering curses and incantations for their lives to forever be filled with doom.
I liked talking about engines and tires. I did, really. I worked with my Dad in his maintenance shop since I was little. In fact, I got stuck in a tire once and my Uncles rolled me down the road into a flower shop.
I learned I was allergic to pollen that day. I think I also broke my arm. I can't remember after my Dad came barreling down like a beast, screaming some battle cry and wielding an Axe of vengeance for his fallen child.
Needless to say, I went to the hospital with my Uncles that day, me to get a cast, and them to fix up their pulverized faces.
Meaning that somewhere in that strange story I somehow learned my way around the vehicle world. In fact, I would love nothing more than to build my own car from scratch. That would be fantastic.
My second uncle is doing that right now.
"So what is the total number of Semi's if you get something today Lewis?' Emmett asked.
"Four." My dad said with pride. Translation; we would be going home with our 4th Semi if Emmett showed us something that Dad both liked and had the money for.
Dustin, Git-r-Done, and The Truckinator.
We owned a few cars besides that. Some vans, a few run down sports cars. My Dad had an eye for cars. With the giant chunk of land my Grandpa gave to him for inheritance, he definitely had the money for it.
But almost all of the cars we had were all in the hands of my Dad and his brothers. All who which are driving to many different locations throughout the day. I basically had to walk everywhere or take the bus to get places.
Ain't that ridiculous? Your family own at least 15 cars, but you can't even seem to find the time to get to use at least one.
So when I say, "Hey dad, I want my own vehicle to get around in." It does not mean I want a colossal gas-guzzler! I would even be willing to take something that is super small, sounds horrible, and probably only has a few months to live!
It would be like on of those tragic love stories where you know one of the love interests are going to die but you read all the way to the end anyway because it is tragically beautiful.
…And you know, in that case it would be a car.
You could call it, The Car-book. The Tires of a Car. The Horn. In the Arms of an Engine.
What a story that would be, am I right?
I would most likely mourn over it for at least a week before I took it apart and turned its spare parts into something else. Like a toaster. My car would live on in our son, the toaster.
"I'd name him Bartholomew." I concluded to myself.
"What was that?" Emmett asked over his shoulder. Oh yeah, these two were still here.
"Nothing." I waved it off. "Uh…I forget to say Hi before. Hi Emmett." I nodded in greeting.
"Hi there. Nicolas was it?" he inquired with a friendly smile. My teeth grinded together at the name. Nicolas. "Your old man has told me a lot about you."
I respond with a dark laugh, "I almost consider that sweet. Especially considering it is a horrible name."
"It isn't a bad name." My dad frowned at me.
"Nicolas Extra-ordinary Cater." I recite. That was my full name. My parents thought I was a boy the first 30 minutes of my life and named me as such. Should say a lot since they didn't bother to just take a gander between my legs and put two and two together.
Or I dunno, listen to the doctor when he screams, "IT"S A GIRL! A FEMALE! X AND Y CHROMOSOME CHILD RIGHT HERE! GET IT WHY IT'S SOBBING LIKE A BANSHEE!"
...Or is it XX chromosome? I was never good at science.
Anyway, if that isn't enough, take a second look at my middle name.
And I'm not even extraordinary, I'm Extra-ordinary. My old man is as dumb a brick and couldn't spell and for some reason added some weird – in between the words and make it extra-ordinary.
Blinking a few times, a blissful ignorance on my old man's face, he shrugged, "I don't see anything wrong with it." He sniffed.
"…" I opened then closed my mouth, shaking my head at him. One day old man you might forget to lock you door before going to bed. And when that happens, I will guarantee I'll be there, knife in my hands, death in my eyes.
Morning headline, Young girl murders Father over long term hostility concerning her harebrained name.
"Lets. Just. Get. This. Over. With." I forced a smile.
"Sure thing pumpkin."
Emmett lead us through what seemed like a never ending sea of semi's. I had never seen so many in my life and it kind of horrified me. Is this what hell looks like?
"What the hell!?" Emmett suddenly burst into a sprint, his face turning red with rage. Watching him, we glanced nervously at each other when he approached the broken windowed Semi from earlier. "HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!"
"Ooh." My father winced. "Now who could have done that?" He hissed.
Emmett was throwing off his hat, horror sweeping over his face. He looked so vulnerable suddenly. His world was crashing around him. "Why would someone do this?"
"I don't know man. Kids these days." My Dad was saying, motioning for me to head to the next one as fast as possible. "The stuff they do to seem cool."
"But Old Frank here was innocent." He dropped to his knees. "He never did nothin' to nobody!"
"I know Emmett. I know." My dad consoled, glancing around. "Hey, listen. How about I fix this guy up, huh? For free even. I hate seeing a good car like this so blatantly and possibly accidentally messed up like this."
"Really?" Emmett gawked at him. "You'd really do that?"
"Of course."
"Whoa…" Emmett brushed his nose. "Thanks Lewis. That is real nice of ya."
"Anything for a friend. Now come on." He pulled him to his feet. "You don't take another look at this car alright? Don't stress yourself over it or nothing. I'll have my boys come pick it up when I get home, we'll take it back to my shop, fix 'em up and have 'em back before you know it." I had never seen my dad maneuver someone away from something so quickly. "So don't go looking inside alright? I want you to not even think about it till I can clean it out."
"What?' Emmett frowned.
"I mean- fix it up." He corrected with wild eyes. "Oh look! Look at this big fella. Who is this one?" he motioned to the next Semi.
"Oh." Emmett composed himself. "Got this one a month ago. Nice coating, but a slow engine to be honest."
My Dad was hand signaling for me to start up some conversation and fast. I fumbled, "Oh uh- Y-You sell these often?"
Emmett nodded. "A new one every day. Or every few days depending on weather."
How do people like driving these things around? You are so far off the ground!
My dad sniffed suddenly, "Seems like only yesterday I was buying my first Semi."
"Those were the days." Emmett agreed. "But looks like our next generation of trucker is rolling in." he laughed with a wink in my direction, "Welcome to the force kid."
I shivered, my face contorting into utter disgust. I hissed at the both of them, my mind flashing to Star Wars at the mention of the force. "I am your father Luke." I mumbled under my breath.
The two men laughed, "Well, glad to see you helping out your family." Emmett added in a soft voice.
There was only one reason we were really here, and it wasn't just to get me a car. We needed another semi to transport some parts and other goods to the next state over. My Dad's business depended on this going well, but with his schedule cramped and his staff short, there was only one person who could make the drive.
Me.
And not to say my Dad didn't have the money to support us for a good long while, but the shop was losing business. Can't fully say why, cause I don't know, it just was.
And losing the shop would kill my Dad.
So, having just turned 21 and officially in college, the hellish job was mine.
Driving a semi truck for many hours. Alone. Probably a crappy radio system with that trucker channel that trucks are rumored to have. (I'd go by the name, Depressed Nic. I'd make my voice all deep and pretend to have 22 kids all name Jeffrey, but they would all be girls. Yeah.)
"It's no big deal." I say.
Emmett smiled at that and began to show off his large assortments of trucks. The size of them all were relatively close to one another, but the different variety of colors blew me away. Didn't know Semi's came in more colors that White, Black or Red.
Motioning with his fingers towards the 7th Semi I had seen that day, Emmett wiggled his eyebrow, "The lime green tickle your fancy?"
"Muurp." I whispered like a ferocious breeze. Or just some really quiet hurricane.
"You shouldn't muurp at things you haven't fully tried." My dad tapped me. Muurping was my way of saying 'screw you' for all of those who were wondering.
"What?" Emmett leaned towards us. He did not understand that potential of the Muurp. Or it's meaning, but whatever. It was a me thing, let it be.
"Say Emmett-" My dad was quick to change topics. "So how many trucks you got here?"
"At least 40 right now, but I got word 5 more are heading this way."
45 semi's all in the same area. The horror is real people.
A good 30 minutes later, I was leaning against the door of one of the Semi's messing with my shirt.
My Dad was talking to Emmett like him buying me a semi should be some honor, but it really wasn't. I didn't want to drive a big semi truck for the rest of my life. I had other things in mind. Bigger things.
Like, moving to Hawaii big. Or maybe just renting an apartment in New Hampshire. Either was fine.
Honestly, my big goal was being a baker. Only thing I can really bake is bread though. But isn't that why you go to school? To learn what you don't know. That is why my main degree is towards engineering and other mechanical things, but I'm taking at least 2 cooking classes on the side.
They are not going well.
"How about this one?" Emmett pulled me out of my thoughts.
We stopped as another Semi came into view. "What do you think baby girl?" My old man smiled.
I began to chant the word "Muurp" as I circled it, feeling both apathetic and confused to why we were still here. Could they not understand by my insistent muurping that I did not, nor would I ever, enjoy the idea of owning a semi?
Plus, this thing was lime green.
No.
Why can't I just borrow one of Dad's 3 semi's to get this stupid job done? We really do not need a 4th one.
"Uh…" Emmett gave my father a questioning look to which he shrugged.
"It doesn't quite catch her fancy." He answered. None of these things grasp, snatch, take hold of, grip, clasp, clutch or tickle my fancy! They don't even poke! Even a little.
Emmett refused to give up. The stubborn fool. He showed me every semi he had on that gosh darn property. From pink to simple periwinkle. I was surprised a Semi even came in periwinkle.
"You got anything small?" I asked.
"They are semi's dearie. Nothin' here is gonna be small." My father reminded me as we circled around back. "You sure you didn't like any of the ones we showed you? That fulvous one was nice." Evidently, fulvous is a color, cause I saw it today. "You haven't even sat in any of them."
Cause the seat it too flippin' high up to get to.
"Well I got one more. But it's a little banged up. Found it on the side of the road near here. Though I wouldn't suggest it. Who knows what it was used for before I got my hands on it." Emmett motioned for us to follow. Trailing behind him, I sighed as the final Semi truck came into view. "If you want the smallest one, this would be it."
Despite being the alleged "Smallest semi" in the area, the Peterbilt truck that Jim was showing off was still looming over my head. I mean, you can't even consider calling any truck small, honestly.
"Why don't you try sitting in it?" my dad offered before I could muurp my way out of this.
"The seat might be sticky." I say.
"Or perfectly fine."
"Could be covered in bugs."
"Nope, cleaned it two days ago." Jim smiled.
Groaning in exasperation I tilted my head back, "Marp."
"What is marp?" Emmett asked.
"The meaner version of muurp." My dad sighed. BEEP YOU! (The beep starts with an F and end in a K if you are confused. Try to figure it out from there) "Just get going." he pushed me forward.
Letting the two truckers talk, I circled the beast, my fingers trailing across the faded blue paint with red flames. Probably looked like a pretty sweet ride before it got this torn up.
Whistling as I got to the front, I glanced it up and down. "Well look at you." I bent down to glance underneath. "Been through some hell, haven't ya my friend?" Patting the hood, or at least trying, I jumped up to the driver's seat and rested myself inside.
The seats were a little torn, but overall comfortable and not sticky. Always a plus.
I ran my hands along the steering wheel, turning it back and forth. I could drive this thing, sure, but did I want to? No.
Going through the glove box, I found that it was completely cleaned out, no sign of anyone previously owning this bad boy. "Ditched on the side of the road huh? I feel for ya man." I patted the steering wheel, noticing what seemed to be a bullet hole.
….Ooh~?
Pulling my hand away, I frowned at the odd black paint that came with it. I huffed, brushing it against my paint leg to whip the rest off.
There was some strange picture in the center of a wheel. Looked like a very square looking man face.
Must have been the symbol for some group or something.
Well this thing just went from lame to the coolest thing in the universe in a single leap.
"…-cole?"
My Dad was tapping on the glass a second later. Creaking the door open a bit, he smiled.
"Hey." He leaned against the frame of the door. "What do you think?"
"I think this car was part of a cult." I say.
"Ooh, what a backstory." He grinned. "I took a gander at the back. Looks like it's got bullet holes on the bumper."
"Drug dealers. Cult drug dealers." I gasp in awe.
"You want it?" he snickered. I believe any normal father would turn his nose up to this car, insulted that Jim would even offer it. But my old man was a man of something completely opposite of caution.
He believed one should disregard the obvious signs of trouble and run straight into the belly of the beast.
I followed my Father's footsteps respectfully, war spear pointed and ready.
"Well if I had to pick any of them, this would be the one." I honked the horn. It didn't make a sound. "And hey, look at that. I'll be a silent killer now. Those old ladies won't know what hit them."
My father folded his arms, perplexed, "...I feel like that wasn't meant to be taken as a joke."
"It wasn't." I sighed, "I don't want a semi Dad."
His smile fell and he nodded. "I know this wasn't your first choice baby girl. But with the next couple shipments coming in and my staff short handed, you're the only one I can trust to get the cargo where it needs to go."
"Can I use one of your semi's? Do we really need a fourth one?" I slouched into the seat.
"I was planning on getting another whether it was yours or not." He admitted. "Your uncles are all taking the other Semi's and heading in different directions. If you want to get to where you are going, you're going to need your own."
"A full 6 hour drive." I scowled.
He looked torn. I hated when he looked like that. "I hate to put this on you. I know a lot of important things are coming up for you, and I don't want you to push that aside for the shop, but your mom and me want put your little brother through college and let you finish up your next two years strong. I can't do that if I lose the place." There was a deep pain in his eyes.
The shop has been in our family for generations. To just lose it under his watch would shatter all things that made my Dad him.
"I know dad." I took his hand. "I don't want to, and I'm serious about the possibility of my killing someone while I'm driving, but I'll do it for the family."
"Baby girl." He whimpered like I just made his entire world, "That means so much to me sweetheart."
"…The part about me agreeing to get a semi or me running over old ladies?" I asked.
"Well-" he leaned in to whisper, "If it stayed between us, I'll walk grannie out to the center of the road, then you come speeding down-"
"Dad!" I laughed, hitting his arm.
"What?" he asked innocently. "The women hates me. Drives me up a wall."
"She's your Mother in law. No one said you two would get along." I snorted.
"Yeah, and no one said she would stare at me while I sleep either, but she does. I've caught her doing it. But your Mom just says, "Oooh. She's just old. She does weird things. Just ignore it." His voice turned high pitched. And that is why he keeps his door locked.
She picks it.
We shared a laugh, "Seriously Dad. Do you know how many stares I'll get when people see me driving this big thing?"
"You're too high up. No one will even see your face." He waved it off. "Wanna step out and take a look under the hood?"
"Nah." I leaned back.
"Wanna take a look under the hood." My dad asked again.
One thing I have learned is that it is difficult to refuse requests made in italics.
"Curse sentence formatting." I slithered out of the seat and down the steps.
"Emmett! Commence the opening of the hood!" My Father snapped his fingers. Emmett blinked once, glanced at the hood, and then flicked it open. "A little more dramatic action next time pal." My dad sighed.
"Hey, eccentrics are your thing." He put a few stools down and we peeked inside.
The engine was glorious. For a car so banged up, the inside was sparkling. My dad took in a breath, "Emmett, you have this engine fixed up recently?"
"No sir." His eyes sparkled. "Came in like this. Pretty thing, isn't it?"
"How much you want for it?" My dad asked casually.
"Normally I'd say 8000, since the rest of the car is so beaten up. But for you my friend, I'm willing to cut it in half. Especially since you offered to fix up that window."
My Dad high fived me behind his back. Thank you toothpicks~
My dad was happy to hear that, "What do you say?" he asked me. "Wanna bring me this bad boy home?"
I glanced the vehicle up and down. Shaking my head a few times, I scratched the back of my head, "Sure." I sighed. "Why not?"
The two men cheered, high fiving one another. "Lets step inside and make this official then." Jim motioned to his cabin building or whatever it was. Letting them go on ahead, I stayed with the truck.
"Well big guy. Looks like you are coming home with me." I patted it. "Welcome to the family. It's gonna be hell. I swear I'll try not to rear end you in the next couple weeks." I swear I felt it vibrate at my fingertips.
My dad let me be the one to drive the Semi home when the paperwork was done. His grin was weary as we pulled into the lot of our shop. "Okay." He said, "So, hit three curbs, a fire hydrant, and a stop sign. Not bad. I give you 75 points. If you wait right here I'll go grab Grannie-"
"No." I placed it in park.
"Rats." He clicked his teeth.
My mom welcomes us home with punch and a banner saying, "Welcome home Truckers."
I burned it in the fire pit approximately 30 minutes later as I drank my punch. It was satisfying.
"Is a party really necessary?" I asked my Mom went she strolled by. The banner wasn't for nothing apparently. Apparently the entire neighborhood was showing up for some get together to celebrate the fact that I was, becoming one with the family business.
"It was your Father's idea." She smiled. "Do you not like it?"
"I-" I cut myself off, "No, it's fine. It just isn't that big of a deal. It's just a truck."
Her smile was forced but loving, "It is never just a truck to your Father."
I nodded begrudgingly to that. "Well, might as well get my freak on. Where is the beer?" I grinned.
"No alcohol." She wiggled her finger at me.
"Oh come on. I'm 21. It's legal." I followed her to the kitchen. "What if I promise not to dangle myself off the roof like last time?"
"Like you could stop yourself if you got drunk." She scoffed.
"One bottle!" I disagreed. "It would only be one bottle."
Pausing, my mom glanced back and forth, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "A single bottle."
"Thanks Mom!" I kissed her cheek, grabbing the coldest beer I could get my paws on and sauntering outside. Plopping down on a recliner seat, I lifted my glass when a few folks began to pile into our backyard.
"Congratulations! Way to go! About time! Congrats." They all said.
My voice sounded robotic to my ears, but they didn't seem to notice, "Yup. Yeah thanks."
Yeah.
I'm living the dream alright.
Yay….
"Sis!" I turned my head at the sound of a small and sweet voice, "You gonna name it?" my baby brother, Jeremy, a lovable 7 year old, asked. He was pointing to the truck. I balked. Name it? Naming it would involve growing attached and caring for a person or creature. If I named it, my spineless little heart would never listen to my brain again and I would forever be stuck with the old red and blue fiend.
"No." I say.
"You could name it Christine." Jeremy offered, forcing his way into my lap.
"Christine." I frowned. "As in, Christine from the movie? You want me to name my car after a possessed demon car?"
Jeremy blinked innocently at me. "Demon car?"
"Never mind." I shook my head. "I think the car is a boy anyway."
"Herby then." Jeremy concluded. This kid was messing with me, I swear.
"I'm not naming it that." I ruffled his hair. Clinking our drinks together, wine and apple juice, the perfect mix, Jeremy gave me a wide look.
"Can I have a sip?" he pointed to my bottle.
"In 14 years, sure."
"Aww." Jeremy jumped when someone suddenly kicked open the fence door.
"WHERE IS HE?!" A voice demanded. Shocked, I watched non-other than Ron Witwicky kick his way into the party. Slightly balding and bearing his regular gray jacket, he scanned the crowd wildly.
All eyes moved to my Dad, who was fuming, his breathing heavy, "Witwicky!" he bellowed, face red.
"Cater!" Mr. Witwicky growled. The two men stormed over to each other, chests puffed out and eyes ready to kill.
This was a thing for some reason. I call it one of my dad's many strange traditions with the people he knows.
"You got some nerve showing your face here." My dad growled.
"Oh? From what the signs says, all are welcomed." Witwicky was rolling up his sleeves.
"Well you read wrong!" he was mimicking him, revealing his muscular biceps.
"Then you must have spelled wrong!" Witwicky paused, "Oh wait, that isn't something new." Reference to my name, nice. Appreciate it.
My father gasped, hand gripping his chest. "…Low blow." He growled. Lifting up their fists, the two men squared off. The rest of us watched with dull amusement, pursing our lips when the men began to circle each other.
And…
…The two embraced, laughing and barking like dogs. There it was.
"What took you so long?" My dad cackled into the shoulder of his best friend.
Witwicky sighed, "Sons."
"What did little Sam do now?" they were moving to the punch table. Sam was the kid down the road. Awkward, nerdy, has a crush on this chick name Mikaela but is too shy to make a move.
Also the kid I would torture and steal his lunch money from in Elementary school.
We let bygones be bygones in high school since I was a mature senior and he was the little baby freshman. Good friends since then.
"Well, you getting Nicole a car gave him the idea that he is old enough to get his own for some reason." Witwicky began to explain. "So I thought I'd get him something cheap y'know, and guess what he got?"
"What?" my dad inquired.
"It's yellow and stripped. And if that isn't bad enough, it's a 1977 Chevrolet Camaro."
ARE YOU KIDDING?!
I got up to my feet so fast Jeremy tumbled out of my lap. My first car is a heaping possibly cult involved Semi but Sam, who is several years younger than me, gets a Camaro? AND IT'S STRIPPED!?
"Cause that isn't going to cause trouble." My dad smiled.
"I know." Mr. Witwicky sighed. "He's parking it now. Should be here soon."
Fuming all the way up to when Sam arrived, I felt tempted to chuck my bottle at him when he approached.
"Hey Nicole!" Sam beamed at me.
"Samuel." I grumbled.
He lowered his hand, blinking. "Uh… Nicolas."
I hissed at his use of my first name, "Speak not of that name."
"Sorry." he held up his hands, "Nice party though. Your dad went all out this time."
"Yeah, the meat is all the way up to the roof." I paused, glancing over his shoulder, past the fence, to the street. I could see it from here. Sam's new car. "A Camaro huh?" I sighed.
"Yeah." He nodded. "…Semi huh?" he motioned to it.
"Yes." I sighed, head slamming into the table. "I guess I can die happy."
"Sarcasm." he noted. "Not very happy?"
"Would you?"
"Eh, I dunno. Might be fun." he offered.
"Yeah… and maybe you'll finally get a date." I snorted.
"Ooh." he frowned, "Harsh. Very harsh." he stood up, grabbing a drink for himself. "And this is why I barely talk to you."
"That's funny since I'm the only one you talk to." I took a sip of my beer. "How is your love life going?"
"I dunno Nicole, how is your cooking classes going?" he countered.
"Low hanging fruit Sam." I scowled.
"Don't dish it unless you can take it."
Glaring at each other, the smiles breaking across our faces could be unavoidable. We clinked our glasses together. "To a better year." we say.
So yeah, this story has been on my computer for an entire year now. I actually forgot about it till I pulled it up. I'm just gonna post this first chapter and see what happens.
Honestly, I don't expect it to get popular or anything, but I shouldn't let it just go to waste.
If people really want me to I'll post more chapters, but we'll see.
