My head whirled. When I tried to sit up, my back ached. When I groaned, my voice was a rasp. When I swallowed, my throat felt rough. Every little movement that I made led to another, and the pounding in my head wouldn't stop. So I gave up and looked around the room instead.

The ceiling I woke up to was white—or cream, because when I looked back at my shirt I was quite sure it wasn't white. The walls were a pastel shade that seemed to welcome the sunlight from dawn to dusk. The furniture consisted of a dresser, the bed, a desk and chair, and two lamps, all looking like they made from cherry wood. The wood-framed glass door must lead to the shower. But the window with its blinds closed seemed a little out of place. Who would want to peek into the bath?

The door on the wall next to the bath swung open. That must lead to the hall.

I stiffened. Was this my kidnapper? My hands weren't bound, but a blanket covered me. Or was it a duvet? I didn't know the difference.

"Good morning," a woman's voice spoke. "How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?" I don't know whether it came out as a whisper or scratching on sandpaper.

"You're safe, don't you worry," she said, coming into view. "You're not in any trouble."

The woman was young; she might not even be in her thirties yet. She had auburn hair with highlights that fell in waves over her shoulders. She dressed in blue-themed semi-casual, matching her blue eyes. She had a kind smile on her face, which wasn't too comforting because she looked like a foreigner to me.

Where the hell was I?

"Where am I?"

"You're in the Cozy Cone Hotel, honey."

If it wasn't dry enough already, I swear my throat drained a little more. This can't be real.

"Where?"

"In Radiator Springs, honey. Route 66 just off the Interstate."

Interstate? Route 66? None of these rang a bell.

"What country?"

Her smile disappeared. "The United States of America."

I looked away from her to stare across the room. "The continental US," I whispered.

I woke up this morning on a bed in a hotel that located halfway across the world.

.

"Mom?" I croaked. "Dad?" The tears hit, and I broke down in sobs. I was so eager to get away from my parents, so why the hell am I crying so hard?

"Oh, don't worry honey; the Sheriff will track down your family."

No no no no no no nononono this wasn't happening there's no way this is happening—

"I live on the other side of the goddamn world," I choked out to her. "I don't live in the US."

There was a moment of silence as the shock set in.

"Who took me here?" I asked. "How did I get here?"

"H-honey, you might want to rest a little more—"

"Please!" I begged her with puffy eyes. "I need to know! My parents—they'll kill me if they knew I won't be home for dinner…."

Her blue eyes were sad but thoughtful. "All right. I'll take you to Flo's."

.

Flo's was a little retro diner across the road that served shakes, burgers, hot dogs, pasta—you name it, Flo makes it. She was the owner there, a wonderful middle-aged woman with graying hair. She reminded me of my mother, and my heart twisted just a little bit. She had two waiters and waitresses each. It was clear that the two ginger twins Mia and Tia were the managers, which meant that Flo had more time on her hands now.

I sat at the bar with my back to the counter, downing a strawberry-chocolate milkshake I held in my hands that was way too sweet for me. Standing around me was Flo, the blue-wearing woman named Sally, and a gruff man that was the Sheriff. They were asking me questions while I sipped; it seemed like the drink calmed me down a little.

"So you're telling me you live somewhere on the other side of the world?"

I nodded at the Sheriff. "Yes po." Jeez, I should stop the damn po's; they wouldn't understand. "I can show you my driver's license if that helps." I frowned when he did. "You mean you never checked me for ID?"

"We didn't know you had an ID," he said. "You…look too young to have a driver's license."

"I do." I set the milkshake on the counter and pulled out my wallet. "There, see?" There it was, in bold black letters: STEVENSON, MARGARITA, along with my address and birthdate and a stupid ID picture.

"Oh." Sheriff took a better look at it in his hands. "I'll try and contact your parents, then."

I nodded absently. I don't remember a thing about a kidnapping, just a black void where my memory was. After making a few nots, he returned the card to me, which I tucked into my childish purple Pusheen wallet.

"I'm sorry I can't pay for this," I said out of nowhere, glancing at the half-finished milkshake.

"Aw, don't worry 'bout it, honey!" Flo was smiling. "All you need is on us."

I smiled at her. "Thank you. You're too kind."

While I was there, they told me how they found me out in the midday hell on Arizona sand, passed out. They knew not who brought me here, how I ended up faceplanted on the sand or when I got there. Just that I had a backpack, was so close to a heat stroke and needed some air conditioning.

They found me three days ago.

Now that I've settled in that quaint little diner, things started coming back, like plotlines I wanted to write, things I wanted to draw, dreams, goals, dad's advice, mom's jokes, Sir Gobi's lesson….

The wind left my lungs. What the hell…?

"I'm in Radiator Springs," I breathed.

"You sure are!" Tia agreed, and I stared at her with wide eyes.

Her confirmation was a little too much for me, and I faced the door where everyone greeted the town celebrity.

Lightning McQueen.

Bickering with Sally Carrera.

Normally I chew things over as soon as I hear them, but this was something I couldn't comprehend. How did I end up in the Cars universe?

Was it something I wished? Like BOOM, wish granted? A genie?

Maybe in one of my older mood swings, yes, but I didn't expect something like this. Not in the middle of my quest to finish college and find solace in a job at Starbucks with coffee and milk and syrup and food. Not where I'm not prepared to leave my parents and live on my own without so much as a word from my dad to 'woman up'.

Man, I thought I would take it better than I am.

"Is this our new charge?" I heard Lightning ask, not far from me. "Hi," he said as he approached, smiling for my comfort.

I struggled to wipe the terror off my face, but it must've been that bad. Pity was all over his face. "H-hi," I whispered.

"I'm sorry you ended up here," he comforted. "I promise you'll have a good stay until your parents find you."

I wondered why they were treating me like I was 12, until I realized I must look 12, fluffy-faced as I was.

"Thank you," I managed to get out. "I'm sorry I ended up here, I swear I don't know—"

"No, that's okay." He waved his hand. "Although I'm sure there will be an investigation on this."

I nodded, and out of nowhere I was afraid that I would be questioned and my answers wouldn't be good enough to be taken seriously. "I really am sorry—"

"I told you, don't worry about it."

I opened my mouth to say otherwise, then thought it might be best not to. "Thank you."

"I'm Lightning, by the way. I think you've met Sally."

I shook Lightning's hand and waved at the blue-wearing woman. "Margo," I replied.

…okay, how am I going to tell them I knew who they were, by name, age and car model?

Might as well not, 'cause I know I'd get freaked out and think they were stalking me.

Flo and Sally brought Lightning up to speed—me waking up, gathering at Flo's, my driver's license (at which both wondered how I could have a license looking like that)—all the while nodding his head with serious looks on his face. I went back to sipping and people watching.

"So, how about a tour of the town?"

"Well," I stalled a little, frowning. "I don't know. I'm still a little shaken up"—which was true—"and I'd really like to have some peace before I can meet more people." I winced when his smile faded. "Is-is that okay?"

"Of course." Sally snapped that through gritted teeth as she glared at Lightning, whose expression soured. "You're free to do anything you like here."

"Thank you." I stared at Lightning. "Maybe when I feel a little better." I smiled a little.

He smiled right back. "Of course." And they left to settle with a group in a booth.

"What took you so long?" I heard when I strained my ears.

"Just a girl we found at the desert."

"Poor little thing; how did she get there?" the woman asked with pity.

There were heads that turned to stare at me, and I ducked my head to stare into the shake, face hot and feeling their eyes on me.

"We don't know. She doesn't know either."

I sighed. I guess it was going to take a while to settle in.

.

My backpack held a scant few things in there. My notes from classes on a legal-sized pad, notebooks, umbrella, Starbucks tumbler, wallet, calculator, flash drives, clip-on fox ears, phone charger, money, pencil case...at least I brought my dragon sleeping mask; I'd need that when I can't fall asleep. Nothing I can use for shower or anything else.

I missed home. I didn't get to say goodbye to my parents, friends, two beautiful dogs, a growing goldfish, the stuff in my room. All I had were the photos on my phone, and even then I couldn't look at them out of the hurt that stung my chest.

I couldn't bear the confines of the room, but I was still too disoriented to check out the town. I ended up sitting at the far end of the counter with a glass of water, wondering just how far Sheriff's investigation was. When Mia and Tia were on break, they tried to talk to me. I couldn't talk to them about home, or anything that reminded me about home. Instead I learned to love to hear about the misadventures that came with the fame in Radiator Springs. Home stories ranging from stampedes in town to unusual accidents at Willy's Butte, and a little on their lives. I watched Flo talk to the other customers—she reminded me of my grandmother that owned her own restaurant, and she talked to everyone, even the kids. Sally bothered me because of the legal issues that came with being stranded and stateless, or something around that line; I didn't understand, and she gave up. Lightning and the two other waiters there, Josh and Hutch, didn't come up to see me, which was fine; I wasn't comfortable with concern from a male.

On the third day, the Sheriff came back to tell me the world had no record of a Margarita Stevenson at such address.

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I remember feeling numb in that one booth. I remember not hearing anyone, not breathing; there was just the slow thump of my heart.

It was automatic after that: "That can't be true."

Ah, the denial.

"It says right here, Margo."

"Can't I call my parents? I know their number!"

"You can't, honey. It doesn't exist."

The fear started to creep in. Was I a liar to them? Was I going to face charges? I'm 19; I should be old enough. But the money in my wallet is all wrong, not the US dollar. I was too broke to have money exchanged. I wondered briefly if I looked Mexican; my tan was natural enough to pull it off.

So I locked myself up in the room they lent me. I cried, I threw my things across the room, I slept. I was betting that the entire floor was empty that afternoon; nobody came to complain about the noise.

I couldn't remember the last time I ate the next time I woke up. I didn't feel hungry, I was so upset. All cried out, I looked in the mirror to find my eyes so red and puffy, my face flushed. My throat was sore enough to keep me from squeaking. I swore I would need some meds; crying for so long always made me sick.

I washed my handkerchief out and brought the spare instead when I went to Flo's. It wasn't so full for 5:24 in the evening, but the sunset made the little sign so much more noticeable.

HELP WANTED.
INQUIRE INSIDE

I glared at it mutinously. I had a penchant to work whenever I was upset. Maybe I could work for Flo while I'm here.

Meh. I just wanted to get a glass of water before going to kill myself. Nobody was going to care, anyway.

Lightning and Sally were at the bar with Flo and Ramone. The curvy woman was discussing with much gusto the old days with Ramone, and what to do to keep the fire burning; Lightning and Sally must be asking for advice.

"Hey, Margo!" I waved at Mia and Tia with a weak smile, and their smiles turned horror-struck. "What happened to you?"

"Well," I croaked, sitting in a chair, "when you've discovered you don't have anything to go back to, won't you feel the need to cry yourself out?" I dumped my forehead over folded arms; I was that sore.

"A glass of water, honey?" Flo asked from the other end of the counter.

"Yes please," I groaned. I downed two glasses without a pause, and slowed on the third.

"Are…you okay?" Lightning wasn't the most verbose.

"I'm fine," I said, a knee-jerk reaction. "No, you know what? Scratch that; I feel like utter crap." A sniff punctuated the sentence.

"When was the last time you ate, baby?" Flo gasped. "I haven't seen you since you left at three yesterday!"

I shook my head. "Not a bite since, Flo."

That was when she served some bacon and eggs, despite dinnertime, and I just kind of inhaled the plate. Well, not including the ceramic plate itself, but you get the idea.

"Thank you for the food. I didn't realize I was that hungry."

"You're just sad, Margo. It'll pass."

Sally could be right, but she could be wrong too. Where am I supposed to go from here?

"What happens next?" I asked them, lifting my head so I can look at them all. Flo, Ramone, Lightning, Sally, Mia, Tia…

None of them knew the answer.

I had no home to go to, no financial aid, nobody to claim me. I was 19 and legal, so I was left to fend for myself.

And fend for myself I will.

I would have time to chew it all over; I guessed I owed myself that. I'll need to move forward somehow; I can't rely on Sally and Flo forever. I've never been to the US before, so this means I'll have to stay in Route 66 for as long as…whenever. Until I can get back is being way too optimistic. Maybe for the rest of my life. It might be too fast, but better now than never.

…at least I'll be making more than I do at home.

"Flo?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Is that 'help wanted' I see out there?"

.

My guess was that Radiator Springs was more like a pit stop and a tourist attraction along the Interstate. People came and went, but nobody wanted to stay. Well, unless you're a businessman or woman looking for a rise in money, then Radiator Springs was a good place for business. That 'HELP WANTED' sign at the front of the café had been there for months, and now the position of cashier-barista-bookkeeper belonged to me.

It wasn't too bad. I got paid $15 an hour for 12 hours (6am to 6pm, before Wheel Well handles dinnertime) + three meals a day + a studio apartment at a building that was also owned by Sally (although I did have to pay my own bills). None of that was going to get me real things, like a real shower. Those would come much later. For a month and a half I was going to get paid on a weekly basis, considering that I needed the money for basic needs. I was going to ask Mia and Tia to take me shopping in Phoenix for clothes.

In the meantime, I set to work. First I was going to go through some training: learning how to make a milkshake, frappe, juice, cokes; the basics of the bar. Flo was the one to show me how to work the espresso machine, something I would learn to master in a few months' time, and the cashier which was pretty straightforward. As part of my job, I called in the orders for Dan, the chef in the kitchen, and sent them out for the waiters and waitresses to serve. Some days, I was assigned to work with Josh and Hutch in the waiting crew so I could get a feel of waiting on a table.

I didn't fail, according to Flo. Just that the table was as irate as the worst customers they ever had.

"You can't take a _ order, you little _!" the mother of two crying kids screamed at me. "You shouldn't be working here! You're just a _ minor!"

Flo took over right after that.

I steeled myself that day with a helping of whipped cream down my throat. I think I got sugar burn from it. I was lucky there were some good people that left a good word on my service, so that kind of made my day.

I didn't give up, though. Day in and day out I volunteered to wait tables, even striking up conversations with some of the people there. I thought it was nice that I was getting some socialization, even if I knew I wouldn't see these people anymore.

A month into my service and training at Flo's and I knew my way around the place pretty well. I was starting to get faster behind the bar. I wasn't as nervous trying to deal with customers anymore. I didn't think too much about being homeless. I was content ignoring the fact that I would never see my family and friends again. Instead I focused on helping Flo with her business and gaining more money so I could afford more things. I was starting to sleep in clothes at night, and laughing with Luigi and Lightning at Wheel Well for dinner and watching Guido and his flair bartending. Red helped me with a little plant box on my west window. I found good wine, something I couldn't afford back home. Even if I hated that it didn't rain as much here, the sun always warmed my tiny heart.

.

Tuesdays were always slow. Maybe because most people were at work at ten in the morning and not traveling? Although we did have some college kids and high schoolers running around escaping responsibility.

I wrinkled my nose at the groups of boys and girls, some of which were co-ed. "Those kids," I grumbled, "thinking they have it easy." And then I smiled. "How ironic."

Josh frowned. "Why?"

"They're gonna go back to their parents anyway." I lifted a fork. "And then they're going to get…reprimanded"—oops, almost forgot that word—"and then they're going to rebel, and then they're going to leave, and then go back, and it goes on and on. It's a vicious cycle until they decide to grow up."

Tia looked at me like I was crazy. "Oh yes, Ms. Maturity, do preach." They all laughed and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeahhhh well kids think they own the whole world, right up until reality hits them like a ton of bricks." I regarded them with all seriousness.

"That come from recent events?" Hutch asked, lifting and inspecting a glass.

"Nope." I set down the fork. "That was from a long time ago."

I was at the bar, polishing silverware. May parents taught me that fingerprints and crusts were something none of the customers wanted to see. Josh thought I was overdoing it.

"Hutch, am I overdoing it?" I pouted at the big guy with perfected, puppy-dog eyes.

"I don't think so." And I shook my shoulders at Josh, smug.

At least the kids weren't too loud. Sally was training some new recruits for her hotel, and Lightning had texted for a reservation at nine. We were just waiting for the cue.

"Why do you think he's made a reservation?" Hutch asked.

Lightning never gave the reason why he would reserve such a big table in the middle of the week. A table for 11 people?

We were expecting them any minute now. Three of us looked up at the clock together; it read 12:20.

"I thought it was at 12," I grumbled. "Lightning's going to give me a heart attack, I'm so nervous." Despite my casual ease with other people, especially kids my age, they knew I hated interacting with big groups of five and more. As a challenge, managers Mia and Tia assigned me and Josh to serve that table, which freaked me out a little.

The last time I served a table that big was a family of about nine: the parents, one baby, two kids, three teenagers, and one adult. The kids were talking over each other, arguing about what to eat. The teenagers were asking me for the WiFi password when obviously I was still talking to the father. The mother was balancing between trying to calm her baby down and getting her eldest son to at least look at the menu. To be honest, I was trying to focus on whatever the big dad was trying to order, only for him to shout at me because I repeated the wrong order. I couldn't fix the records after that, and had nightmares of kids and angry fathers for four days.

"You'll be fine," Josh encouraged. "It'll be like serving anyone else."

"You're lucky you have no perception of Lightning's reputation," Hutch murmured.

It was true that I wasn't as star struck as anyone else whenever Lightning stepped through the café threshold, but I didn't know it ran that deep for Hutch.

"Well, at least you're living the dream," I amended. "I don't know Lightning as much as you do, so I don't know how to appreciate his presence."

"What're those?"

Everyone in the café looked up. A Ferrari California turned off the road into the parking lot, its brilliant signature red paint throwing crimson reflections across the café ceiling. So did the orange Tesla, the black McLaren, the yellow Maserati….

Even as Josh mouthed off all the makes and models, I couldn't even speak, let alone agree. Six sports cars of different years and models parked outside of Flo's V8 Café. It was the most varied caravan I've ever seen in one place at one time. Sure, I forgot most of my car-and-driver under all the math, but I knew how to appreciate good sports cars.

"Who are those," I corrected Tia.

I recognized Lightning when he stepped out of the California, but not the tanned brunet that sat in the driver's seat. Or the blond and the brunet in the McLaren, or the two in the Maserati….

I watched them, pensive and interested.

"Nothing's changed, eh, McQueen?"

My ear twitched. American accent.

"Not much, Jeff." Lightning mock punched the blond that spoke. "Not much."

"It's them!" the twins gushed out of nowhere.

I frowned. Them?

Even Josh was aghast. "Holy crackers, that's Jeff Gorvette."

"And Carla Veloso." Hutch, too.

The names rang dim bells.

But the whole café was in uproar. Customers were starstruck, some gasping and squealing out names of the faces they recognized. Voices overlapped each other so much I couldn't make out any single name. The group seemed to hear them, because they searched and waved at the people they heard call. Some people were taking selfies and other pictures to commemorate the moment. A guy even took a girl's phone, took a selfie with her, and autographed its phone with his personal Sharpie.

I wasn't even mad. That guy came prepared.

I was going to go back to my utensils when three of them caught sight of us, the crew. They flashed smiles and wove past tables to reach us.

"Mia!"

"Tia!"

The twins jumped off the bar stools, launching themselves across the space to give the three men hugs and exchange how-are-you's.

Easily the smallest of the men was French given the thick accent. He was a cutie, with cropped black-brown hair and blue almond eyes and a bright smile. He sounded easygoing, and I liked him immediately.

The other guy was taller and the lankiest of the trio, and also the youngest-looking. He smiled much and talked little, his apple green eyes a little tense. Introvert; I wouldn't get along too well. He did sound Eastern when he talked; Russian or something.

It took me a full two seconds to realize that the third guy was the same one that selfie'd with the girl and autographed her phone. He was taller by a few inches than the lanky one, was tan with cropped brown hair and trimmed whiskers. He was broad-shouldered and just as comfortable as the Frenchie with the two girls. He spoke in a low voice, not excited like his French buddy.

It was clear that Mia and Tia didn't care for the second one, the way they held on to the Frenchie and the tall one. I wasn't aware they were together until they exchanged kisses.

It was official: Josh, Hutch, the second guy and me were standing there, all looking awkward.

I coughed.

Tia jumped a little, and laughed, embarrassed. "Guys, this is Josh, Hutch, and Margo. They're new additions to the crew." Our two boys waved, but I smiled, hands full. "I-uh, guess you know these fellas."

I set down the cutlery with an audible plink to raise my hand, innocent.

"Oh, that's right," she realized. "Margo, that one is Raoul ÇaRoule"—the Frenchie with Mia waved—"that's Rip Clutchgoneski"—the poor boy in the middle smiled at me, I swear I saw his eyes brighten a little—"and this," she tugged on the other guy's side, smiling up at him, "is Miguel Camino."

.

….stupid, stupid, STUPID.

I should have known the instant she mentioned Raoul. I should have known the moment three guys stood out. I should have listened harder when the crowd started crowing names. I should have known the moment Lightning brought in ten men and one woman that looked like they knew each other for years.

Why? Why was I sent here? Why was I going to go through a hell such as this?

No worries, I thought to myself. They might just be friends. Hold the damn phone—they kissed. …crap.

I grit my teeth as I smiled, waving at them. "Hi," I managed to force out.

"Pleasure to meet you." Raoul extended his hand so I could shake it.

"New girl, eh?" Miguel commented, and nudged the youngster. Although Rip's face lit up in a flush, it took me a good few seconds for the gears to turn. My smile turned apologetic.

"Miguel!" Tia chastised. "I'm sorry, Margo." She glared at her boyfriend.

"No, it's okay." My voice was little more than a horse whisper.

Mia, the more maternal of the two, had her brow furrowed in concern. "You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, swallowing. "I'm fine." She didn't seem satisfied by it.

"Oi, Camino, ÇaRoule!" someone called from the table. "Stop flirting and order!" Everyone else laughe; the two men started blaming each other like boys caught with hands in a cookie jar. Well, jars in this case. Mia and Tia giggled, grabbing their aprons and towing Rip away.

"They sure are close, aren't they."

"Yeah." Josh sighed. "Wish I was that close."

"Well, if you wanted a kiss, I'm right here you know." I beamed up at him.

"Why not?" he asked, and pecked my cheek.

"Eww!" I wailed, hitting him with the dishtowel.

"Worth it!" he crowed, and ran out of reach.

"Josh Anders, come back here so I can whoop your ass good!"

"Oh-hoho, what's with the potty mouth?" he teased, and I chased him out into the sun.

Hutch was laughing his gut out at the counter, and I gave him a slap for good measure. My palm bounced off his belly like it was nothing. Oh well. I guessed if fate was going to try and play with my life, I was going to stay sane with these two boys.

If I can manage to stay sane.