"Come on! What's taking him so long?" Miles complained loudly, whining impetuously as he sat on the wall of the steps, swinging one leg as he chewed noisily on some gum with his mouth gaping wide in the most gruesome manner. It was ten minutes past the end of school and Sam still hadn't come from his last class. This meant things hadn't gone so well with his exam paper, poor guy. However, as much a logical explanation I thought up in my brain, my mouth seemed to have other ideas.

"Who knows? Maybe he's finally getting laid." I mused with a shrug as I observed my nails, all perfectly painted a different colour with candy stickers delicately placed on top. A smile tugged on my lips, coloured a rather pale shade of violet today to match the streaks in my hair though people had commented about the mix and match of purple and bright ginger. I didn't care, whacky colours and bohemian or hippie clothing was my thing, so it didn't matter to me what anyone else thought. I tossed said intense copper red hair over my shoulder and tilted back my head to enjoy the sunlight as it was warm and pleasing against the skin.

"Yo check it out, it's the freak chic and the freak nerd." A couple of jocks whistled and cat called as they sauntered past, their eyes traversing my body which was clothed in a pair of ripped jeans, eighties style platform boots, a flared jacket and a shirt with an old band name on it which was so faded I couldn't even remember which one it was, however I'd altered it with sequins, glitter and patches to suit my style.

"So say the brainless jocks who got less of a package than a microorganism." I shot back at them and they frowned slightly, trying to figure out the insult whilst Miles snorted into his shirt which he had been using to wipe his nose. In the end they decided to simply leave us alone as someone else had called out to them, Trent, who then tossed a ball their way and they left in gaudy laughter with the popular girls trotting after them in their Gucci heels. Or was it Prada?

"You know you could so easily be one of them, Helen." Miles reminded me for the hundredth time since we'd met. "Since your dad is rich and all. Give yourself a day at the mall, buy all the clothes and stuff then they'll be practically putty in your hand for all that sweet dough you got."

"Now what would be the fun in that?" I answered him with a lazy grin, tilting my head towards him and opening my eyes so that the bright green could shine intensely against the smoky black and blue eye makeup I wore. At the tilt of my head my eyes went from green to hazel, changing slightly depending on the light as Miles frowned at me.

"Why wouldn't you want to be popular? Then you'd get invited to all the sweet parties and my social life would be totally set and I could pick up loads of chicks."

"Because popular people are predominantly jerks." I responded all too easily. "Besides, it's way too much effort trying to pick out the right outfits and fix your hair every day. For me it's easy, I just throw on what I want and I can put my hair up in my crazy bunches. Simple as pie." Miles looked over my rather ostentatious look with obvious dislike but didn't comment on it. "There he is, looks like he's alive." I gestured towards Sam who was practically skipped through the doors and waving his paper at us.

"A-minus!" He declared, waving his paper around as he raced up to us. "You know what that means?"

"Yup. New car, more movies so congrats, well done, top notch." Laughing as I hastily replied with acute sarcasm I punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Can we go now?"

"Congrats, bud, knew you could." Miles grinned then his smile faltered into a smirk. "Well, Helen could anyways. It's practically her paper after all. I bet you didn't get full marks because you strayed from her plan."

"Hey! I just added my own personal flare to the project." Sam answered hotly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "After all I was trying to sell things for cash too, what's the harm in that?"

"Hence you didn't get the A plus." I told him bluntly and this time Sam punched me teasingly on the shoulder and I grinned back at him. A car honked at us and we all looked up to see Ron, Sam's dad, waiting for them in his freshly washed and waxed car which shone rather intensely under the sun.

"Oh, gotta go. See you Miles." Sam high-fived Miles then ran to his dad to show him the paper, leaving me momentarily behind.

"Catch you later, Miles. Black Ops?" I asked and Miles nodded.

"I'll whip your butt." He promised me, grabbing me into a quick and tight hug before I then hurried to join Ron and Sam in the car, the latter of whom was still grinning as he gave me a thumb's up to say that his dad had approved of the A-minus which meant sooner or later, he would be getting his new car. Or at least, a second hand one.

"Hey Helen, good day?" Ron asked as I opened up the door and slid into the back of the convertible, effortlessly sliding inside and dropping my bag down as I relaxed into the sun blazed leather seats.

"It was decent enough. How about you Mr Witwicky?" I questioned him pleasantly, giving him a smile into his rear view mirror which earned me an approving smile in return. Ron had always liked how polite I was with him and how I could actually pronounce their surname correctly. Ever since Sam and I started school together we'd been friends as I'd stuck up for him against some bullies, the both of us ending up at the principal's office with me having a bleeding nose. When I heard Sam's father giving him a hard time over nothing, I'd made quite the introduction of myself and had seen them practically every day since. "You hear Sam's good news?"

"Only the moment he got to the car." He answered with a snort as he began to pull away then started to tell me all about his day, complaining about his co-workers and lamenting the fact that he was the only one who ever made any real effort at the office whilst Sam and I listened quietly, knowing better than to interrupt his ranting. After that Ron began to natter away about the neighbourhood, shouting at some of the idiots on the road or on the street and I have to say I found his commentary rather amusing.

"Please, dad, do you have to shout at everything and everyone who either drives on the road or crossed a street?" Sam groaned in embarrassment as Ron finished bellowing at a white truck that sped past us and almost clipped the wing mirror.

"It's their own fault for not driving more sensibly and being inconsiderate of others. What's the world coming to? I don't know." He muttered then lapsed into silence as I gave an amused laugh.

"It's road rage, Sam, very soon you'll be doing exactly the same thing." I promised him then looked up as we drove towards the Porsche garage, my interest peaking as I admired all the beautiful cars.

"I got a little surprise for you son." Ron said and I had to cover my mouth to stifle the giggles as I recognised the prank which was coming Sam's way. Poor Sam, poor sweet and gullible Sam.

"What kind of…" Sam trailed off as we pulled up onto the drive, slowly making our way over towards the shiny cars that lay there and his face instantly fell into one of pure shock and disbelief.

"Yup. A little surprise." Ron nodded his head, winking into the mirror at me who still could barely hold on to my laugh, shrinking down into the seat so that my best friend wouldn't notice me.

"No! No, no, no, no, no, no! Aw dad you got to be kidding me!" Sam yelled, grinning from ear to ear as he practically leaped out of his seat, ready to go car viewing until his dad spoke up rather bluntly.

"Yeah, I am." His face fell in the space of a second. "You're not getting a Porsche." Sam turned his head to glare at his dad who began to laugh and I finally released my own giggles, earning a glare as well but I just grinned cheekily. It was a good joke, Sam's face was a picture.

"You think that's funny?"

"I think it's very funny." Ron agreed. Sam looked back to me so I held up my hands.

"I'm not involved with this one, I'm just a spectator here." I informed him honestly and he growled, turning back to look accusingly at his dad who had driven back out of the garage and continued on our way.

"What's wrong with you?"

"You'd really think I'd get you a Porsche for your first car?" Ron continued to laugh as Sam pouted cutely. He really didn't take being teased well, it's too bad he couldn't see the humour. "You'd destroy it in a day, if not hours."

"I'm not talking to you for the rest of this thing." Sam pouted then turned his head away from his dad who merely shrugged and twisted back slightly towards me.

"That's okay, I'll just talk to Helen." Ron answered. "You'll talk to an old guy like me, right Helen?"

"Sure thing sir." I saluted him with a grin and winked quickly at Sam who caught it. "Want to tell me about your first car? It's a good story and perfect for the situation. You should remind Sam all about what happens when you try street racing and the dangers of drinking whilst driving just to make sure he's got it all." I suggested and Sam complained at me under his breath so I blew him a kiss to say that he's welcome, setting his dad off on another tangent.

"Ah! My first car…" He breathed then talked about cars all the way, a dreamy grin on his face. At least it kept him occupied and it let Sam and me simply sit in peace as he droned on. I knew enough about cars, thanks to Sam, and I had a great love for them. Especially the classics. I could clean one up easily enough, take care of a tyre or some obvious engine problems but I was no real mechanic which was why I was stoked that Sam was getting his first car. Knowing how cheap Ron is, it'll probably be second hand which meant it'll need a lot of work and fine tuning, which meant I could learn things and develop my skills as a sort of hobby. At least that's what I was hoping and I have to say, I was not disappointed.

The next time we pulled up, it was in some tacky junk pile with a lot of scrap metal. Oh excuse me, I meant an oriental car garage specialising in ancient and classic, even prehistoric models. "What is this?" Sam demanded, staring at the rows upon rows of rust ridden cars which looked ready for being stripped then scrapped, if I were honest. Maybe I'll have to do a little more research before I try getting my hands dirty with one of these. A tetanus jab wouldn't go amiss either.

"This, my boy, is where you're going to find the love of your life." Ron said to him proudly, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past.

"And before you ask, it's not me, so don't get your hopes up." I noted him with a smirk as I also strode past, flicking him on the forehead before going towards an old fiesta. It was one of the cleaner looking ones however under the hood there lay a messy network of worn out wiring and what looked like various missing engine parts. Was this even fit to be sold? I doubted it would even start, let alone take a journey back to the Witwicky house. Hearing my best friend's voice I looked up as Sam continued to complain.

"No dad, you said half a car not half a piece of junk." He was saying.

"When I was your age, I was happy just with four wheels and an engine." Ron told him simply as he inspected an ancient looking mustang.

"Okay, let me explain something to you." Sam began but I didn't stick around to listen, going ahead to inspect some of the other cars whilst the owner of the garage went towards them with loud greetings and a rather irritating voice. I went from car to car, touching the bonnet and sometimes lifting the hood to look at the engine but didn't linger long, maybe I took a double take in disbelief at the state of these vehicles until I just became used to it. Most cars were just piles of trash but a few of them had potential, if you did them up with a nice paint job, that is. The next time I looked up, it was to see Sam in the seat of a car. It was a 1977 Chevrolet Camaro. Yellow with twin black racing strips. A classic.

"Nice car you got there Sam." I called and Sam looked at me, giving a smile of admittance as he wriggled in the seat.

"It feels nice."

"How much?" The guy looked up from shouting to his colleague at the sound of money.

"Well…considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job-" The guy began slowly until Sam interrupted him.

"But the paint's faded." He ducked down to look through the window.

"Yeah but its custom."

"Its custom faded?" Sam had a point. This car looked like it still had its original body of paint on it, which made it well over thirty years old.

"Well it's your first car I wouldn't expect you to understand." He shrugged then looked up to Ron. "Five grand."

"No I'm not paying over four, sorry." Ron shook his head.

"Come on kid, out the car."

"No wait, you said a car picks his driver." I couldn't help it, I gave a little snort at that. What kind of crap was this guy trying to pull? Cars picked their drivers? It's not some Jedi mind trick or anything like that, there is always another car out there. Besides, once Sam earned a little cash he'd upgrade his car and forget all about any first car he ever had.

"Yeah well sometimes the driver has a cheap-ass father. Out." He emphasised then opened the door, forcing Sam to get out who begrudgingly left the Camaro behind, moving on with the seller, Bobby, and his dad. When no one was looking, I slid into the driver's seat of the car just to see what Sam was talking about. The moment I rested my back against the car seat I had to admit, it felt rather nice and comfortable and the leather was warming against my back, so much so that I could feel it through my jacket but it wasn't unpleasant. Just comforting, in a way. "You're a beauty. Classic." I mused to myself, running a hand over the dashboard which caked my skin in layers of dust. "Shame Sam can't buy you." Without warning the opposite side door suddenly slammed open into the car next to the one I was sitting in, causing me to jump violently and grasp onto the steering wheel. "What the hell?!"

"Wow, Jesus, you alright?" Ron asked as Bobby pulled himself out the car.

"No worries! I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this all right out!" He laughed then shouted. "Hey Manny! Get your crazy clown cousin some hammers and bang this stuff out, baby." He continued to laugh albeit a little nervously as I recovered my breath, moving over to another car as I slackened my grip gradually. What the hell was that about? Can any car door do that on its own? "This one's my favourite, drove all the way from Alabama…" Just as I was about to slide out the car my eyes snapped towards radio as I heard a rather unsettling whirring sound and it buzzed into life, flashing.

"Greater than man…go!" It was robotic, something off the radio but before I could even respond, frown or swear I heard the sound of shattering glass everywhere, causing me to cry out in alarm and instinctively duck my head to cover it as the windows on every car were smashed to shards. Ron and Sam both screeched unceremoniously as they dived for cover onto the ground, glass flying everywhere. My entire body was tensed up, however when the glass of this particular car didn't shatter I loosened up a little, staring in shock at the freakishness of it all.

"What are you?" I whispered. The radio beeped before going silent. Panicking and hyperventilating a little I scrambled to get out of there, fumbling with the door handle until I got the door open and I leaped for freedom, hurriedly slamming the door shut behind me and streaking away. "Sam! Sam are you okay?" The glass crunched under my platform heels until I reached Sam, grasping his arm as well as his dad's, helping the both of them to their feet. "Watch the glass, be careful. Are either of you hurt?" I fussed over them with worry, my own nerves rattled and shaken but thankfully no one was actually hurt. With every car now without a single window, Bobby was staring around in horror before whirling around to face us.

"Four thousand!" My eyes widened, looking towards the suspicious car. No way was that thing normal, it just blew out the windows of every car surrounding it with just its radio. Right? Or was this all just some kind of weird coincidence. Either way, that car is weird.

"Sam don't, you saw what just happened right? That car is just…it's not normal."

"It's a car Helen, how can it not be normal?" Sam asked me as I gripped onto his arm tightly, not noticing I was holding on so tight until he gave a sound of pain so I hastily let go, blushing slightly as I answered.

"I don't know, it's just a gut feeling. Maybe we'd better go someplace else or just go car shopping another day." I tried to reason with him however Sam was adamant that he wanted that car. I swear, if I open that car and find no engine or battery, I don't think I'd be exactly surprised. Either it's a really messed up car or there's something different about it that I just can't quite put my finger on. All my nerves were on edge and the warning bells in my head were toiling pretty loudly.

"Please dad?" Ron frowned a little further, glancing my way so I tried to silently plead with him to see sense.

"I don't know…"

"Three thousand!" Bobby begged desperately, clasping his hands together. "Just please take the car!"

"Alright. Two and five hundred then it's sold." Ron nodded and Bobby hesitated for a brief moment, however when another car window shattered even further behind him he gave a shrill scream, covering his head before then nodding fiercely.

"Alright! It's a deal! And a full tank on the house! Just please, get it away." And that was how Sam got his first car. The tank was filled up, the money was paid and I sympathised with the fact that most, if not all of that money would go towards buying replacement windows for all the cars that had been wrecked.

"Yes! Alright." Sam cheered happily, tossing the keys up and down as he opened the door but then paused. "You not coming Helen?" I arched an eyebrow, eyeing up the car suspiciously before pointedly taking a large step backwards.

"No way in hell. There is something weird about that car Samuel Witwicky, so I'm going to stick to what I know is safe and approved by mechanics as road worthy. You don't even have an MOT on that thing!" I said to him pointedly but he just grinned at me excitedly, too animated by the fact that he had a new car that was all his and at a rather decent price. At least now he only owed his dad five hundred dollars instead of the original two thousand. I watched worriedly as Sam slid into the driver's seat then tried to start the car. Ron and I looked at one another as we listened to the pitiful spluttering sounds until the car guttered into life and spewed out a whole load of black fumes out the rear. "That car is a death trap Mr Witwicky."

"It's his first car." Ron answered as he got into the driver's seat of his own car which looked like a new model Ferrari compared to that classic yet rust bucket of a car that Sam now owned. "It's supposed to be like that."