Sam was a friend, but only on the basis that we sat together in class and bonded. We didn't hang out much, not that I minded. If I had the option, I'd stay at the shop 24/7 and not bother with people in general. But it was nice to say I had friends. His invitation to help get a car had caught me off guard, but he had quickly- if stutteringly- explained that his father was cheap, and he needed to know he was getting a car and not a carcass. (I mockingly applauded his use of 'carcass' and said the English teachers would be proud.)
He was waiting in front of his dad's car, bouncing in excitement. I whistled as I approached, pushing my sunglasses up to my hairline for a few seconds. "Damn. This is an oldie."
His father gave me an appraising look, then held out his hand. "Ron Witwicky. Pleasure to meet you."
I shook his hand with a smile. "Angel Andrews." I admired the car for a moment, before double-checking. "It's a… Aston Healey 3000, ain't it? The '60's model?" He looked me over again. We probably would have spent a while discussing the care and maintenance if Sam hadn't been eagerly pressing for us to go.
I rolled my eyes at his excited babble, jumping over the side of the car to settle in the back seat. Mikaela didn't understand why, but I liked the backseat. It was a nice place. Sam launched himself into the passenger seat, still babbling. It was kind of cute. Always babbling or stuttering.
"Well, I got a little surprise for you, Sammy." Ron stated as we drove. Sam turned to him in surprise. I glanced around, dismissing the Porsche dealer easily, since Sam said his dad was cheap, but the only other- Why were we pulling in?
My jaw dropped as Sam freaked, watching the cars we passed eagerly, until with a cruel laugh, Ron pulled out of the lot and into a discount sales lot. "You're not getting a Porsche for your first car!" I deflated, draping myself over the side of the car in disappointment. I almost got to look at a Porsche.
It was with great reluctance that I accepted we were going to get a car from "Bobby Bolivia's Used Car Lot." I was checking any car he picked from bumper to taillights. And if I found so much as a loose bolt, it would be hardest to decide who I'd take it out on- Sam's dad, or the crazy Quack running the place. Said Quack made his way over as Sam was explaining to his father about the cars making him "forty-year-old Virgin", with a grin that exposed all of his ridiculously white teeth and a look so greasy he could glide instead of walk.
He introduced himself as Bobby Bolivia, changing it to "Uncle Bobby Bee" once Mr. Witwicky explained Sam was getting his first car. I declined the handshake in favor of starting my analysis on a Bug that had definitely seen better days. I popped the hood, grimacing at the filth coating the engine block, and quickly catalogued everything I spotted that looked off, nudging a few pieces a bit to confirm or reassess my expectations. Bobby was already smooth-talking it, trying to sell it to Mr. Witwicky for well more than it was worth. I shut the hood with a loud clatter.
"Please tell me you aren't actually considering this piece of shit." Bobby puffed up in irritation. He looked grossly like a naked mole rat. I sighed. "This place is a dump, and obviously the mechanic has no fucking idea what he's being paid for, because the check on this engine block was shit. Bolts are so loose I can almost see the spark plugs, not to mention the filth that needs to get cleared out, and the hoses need to be replaced- you think that tape will hold longer that it takes to get this fuck-nugget off the lot? I've seen plenty of shitty jobs, but this is definitely up there in the worst."
Sam blinked at me, his father's jaw partially slack, and Bobby's face was turning an odd purplish shade. "I had no idea you swore so much."
A shrug. "Things you pick up." I scanned the lot with a critical eye. "So, who's my next victim?"
Sam shuffled along, acknowledging every sign I gave of disapproval and bypassing the vehicle he'd been about to ask about. There isn't a single car on this lot worth looking at. I'd like to meet this mechanic- Stuff my fucking boot so far up his ass he'll taste leather for a month.
"What about this one?" I tore myself out of my thoughts, quickly analyzing the car he'd stopped us at. A Chevy Camaro- an older model, of course, it had to be, if it was on this junkyard of a lot- but it didn't look quite as wobbly as the others did. I waltzed up, giving it my most dangerous, scrutinizing glare.
"...Still looks like shit." I turned my glare on Bolivia. "Do you do anything other than shit-patch the engines before you set them up? God, I could sell everything on this lot with a bucket of soapy water and a box of spare parts. I'll give it a glance, but if I don't like what I see, I will insist," I looked pointedly at Mr. Witwicky, "that we find someplace else."
Bolivia made a martyr's face before sighing and sliding back into his smooth talk. I ignored him viciously, looking over the Camaro's body and kicking the tires. I swung around to the front while Bolivia took Ron to the back and Sam sat in the driver's seat. I zoned in just in time to hear the price.
"Bull shit."
He glowered at me again. "Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry; I thought I was speaking clearly. I SAID, BULL-FUCKING-SHIT." I smiled sweetly for a moment. "This Camaro- pretty though it may be- is a rolling shit stain. It's got dents and dings that'll cost at least Five hundred to bang out, not to mention the passenger door sticks, and that's before I've even seen the engine. Three grand or no deal." He sputtered indignantly. I raised the popped hood just enough to smush it back down. "I'll be sure to alert the local PD about how poorly you're repairing these vehicles. I'm sure there are at least a dozen violations here."
He puffed up like a rotting corpse on fast forward.
~oOo~
"I can't believe you did that."
"The sassing a car salesman, the swearing, or threatening to involve the police?"
"The getting-me-this-car part. This has to have been the best car on the lot! And you cut the price to three grand!"
"Well, don't celebrate yet, hot-shot." I hauled myself out of the cab at his house, rounding to the front. "I was... sort-of exaggerating about the body work, but I still haven't seen the engine, and if it's even half the hot mess the others were, you've got a long ways to go even if you don't want new paint. Pop the hood."
He obeyed and I tugged the latch just under the hood to fully release it. The hood eased up. I nearly choked.
"Angel? Angel! What's wrong, are you okay-?"
"This fucking engine..." I made a noise between a sigh and a growl, leaning heavily on the bumper. "This is so fucking gorgeous... There is no way he got this car on his lot on his own. There's no way he would have dropped the price if he knew this was in there. There's no way this would be there if he knew it was there. This is a gorgeous piece of machinery and if I ever hear so much as a peep about you not liking this car I would happily pay you five grand for it. Fuck, I'd pay you half of my savings account for this beast."
"I... have never seen you so passionate before. It's honestly almost as intimidating as that death glare you gave the car salesman."
I felt a sour smirk take my face. "Some things you're born with. Some things you learn." I lightly traced some of the hoses, eventually pursing my lips. "Shit, I dunno bro, I'm gettin' some serious vibes off this car. Something's off. No way that walking grease stain got this legally."
"You- ah, you have a lot of insults up your sleeves don't you? I've heard several variations of retard, I think you threw out a few 'stupid fuck nugget's, and now walking grease stain-"
I snorted. "Did you see him? He's so slicked up he glides when he walks. He doesn't go to a barber to get a haircut; he goes to a Jiffy-Lube, for an oil change. Shit, he looked like he crawled out of a deep fryer." I glanced up. "Shall I continue?"
He had a look between a laughing smile and a vaguely disgusted stare.
I went back to speculating on the car's existence. I pursed my lips carefully. "I'll tell you what, kid. I like you- you behave pretty well- so I'll take some safety precautions. Mostly, I'll make sure this car came legit, not bought off some gangster or stolen from an uptown area. Do yourself a favor and try not to drive all over town flaunting until I get some results, alright?"
He was clearly confused, but after a moment stuttered out "Ah- y-yeah, sure. Um, how, uh, how are you going to make sure it wasn't... stolen?"
I pat him condescendingly on the shoulder. "Trust me bro, you're better off clueless." I pulled out my phone and took a few steps back to get the whole car in the picture, then moved around to the back and snapped one of the license plate and tucked it back in my pocket. I made to get back to the engine, but my watch started beeping its alarm. I quickly checked the time under the grease-stained glass.
"Shit, it's almost four." I glanced around quickly, half expecting my bike to be sitting on the curb, then dropped another F-bomb. I turned to Sam urgently. "I need to get home in the next fifteen minutes or shit is going down. Can you drop me off, please?"
He stammered his agreement and clambered into the driver's seat. I shut the hood with a clunk and took the passenger seat. For a moment it was quiet, the radio gave an odd whirr, like it was scanning frequencies, before a soft song came on over the speakers. After a few seconds of it, I smiled. I knew this song.
"...'cause every time I try to tell her how I feel it comes out 'I Love you.' She's got whatever it is."
"So... How did you get into cars and that kind of, uh...?"
"Mechanics?" He nodded. "... It's a long story. Short version, I was just born with it. My dad fostered my tom-boying, and next thing I know, I'm working in the shop, side by side with the two men I loved more than anything- My dad and my uncle."
"Huh." He watched the road, seeming like he was thinking. "It's just, you know, with Mikaela being the way she is, and with you being... well..."
"Not?"
"No, more... natural? At first glance, you just look a bit more like a model than a mechanic."
"...Really?" I leaned back in my seat. "...I think that's the first time anyone's said that without being rude."
He immediately clammed up. "I-I'm sorry, was that a bad thing to say? I mean, I didn't mean to say anything shallow or-or-or rude or something-"
"Hey." He hushed. "You didn't offend me. Tone makes all the difference in the world. Usually people are trying to tell me I don't know what I'm talking about." My watch beeped again, and I glanced at it. Ten minutes. "You can take this right, then cut through an alley halfway down the block."
He obeyed easily. "So, did Mikaela ever get into the mechanics, or is she more what you see is what you get?"
"She liked being in the shop for a while. Gave her a chance to spend time with her dad, since he was always in there. She could probably still rebuild an alternator, but otherwise... she just kind of lost interest, around fifth grade. But she's definitely not 'what you see is what you get' like most girls at school." I watched the neighborhood morph into something I recognized. "Take a left, and we're the third from the end."
He pulled along as instructed, and I hauled myself out of the cab as Mikaela glared at me from the doorway. "It's 3:57, why the hell are you cutting it so close?" She snapped before I was ever halfway across the yard.
"Hi, Angel, how was the car hunt? Oh, it was Great, Kae, thanks for asking!" I turned and waved Sam off, waiting for him to take off. "Hey, it's awful close to cut-off, why are you so late? Just had to deal with some minor issues with Sam's new car. It's okay, I still made it!" I smiled at her politely before pushing past and moving to the living room. I sat in front of the little black box, lifting my ankle up to rest it on the end table. A quick tug of my pant leg and my ankle cuff was exposed- not necessary, but I enjoyed watching. The clock struck four and the box beeped. The light on my anklet flashed three times, an old yellow color, then went back to a solid green. Kae stood in the doorway, glaring still. "See? Right on time." I pulled off my hoodie and bunched it up on the edge of the shabby but comfy brown couch.
"Yeah, 'right on time' my ass. You know damn well you were supposed to be back by three-thirty. I covered for you with Uncle Jack this time, but if you start making a habit of running off with random boys from class-"
"Shut your fucking mouth." She glowered at me as I pushed up out of the couch, mild annoyance darkened to low-grade rage. "Don't you fucking dare start talking about me like I'm some stupid slut who's gonna get in trouble hangin' out with boys. You've been bitter since the sentences were decided. I've got this stupid thing because I wouldn't squeal, and I wouldn't squeal because 'Family First, Family Always.' I thought you might remember that a little bit better, so how about you quit riding my dick about 'bad behavior' and shape the fuck up yourself? Get off your high horse before your thinking my record makes you better than me causes us a real problem." Her gaze flickered away. I took a step back. "I know how all of this works, and I know you. Don't you ever forget that."
She turned and trotted to the front door to put on her heels while I turned for the other door and stopped short. "...Hi daddy."
He stood in the doorway like a boulder. His face was set in a frown- not his slightly bothered frown, or his I-don't-know-what's-wrong frown, but his disappointed frown. I fought the instinct to look at my feet. I hadn't done anything wrong this time. "You were almost late, Angel. What happened?"
"Sam asked me to come with him to get his first car. His dad's cheap and he wanted to know he was getting something good. I stayed over at his place because I wanted to finish looking it over, and because I think it might have been stolen. Possibly gang related. I didn't do anything wrong- I just got distracted."
He scrutinized me from head to toe, watching for a sign, then very slowly nodded. "I believe you. Did you take pictures?" I nodded, pulling out my phone to show him. "I'll get them to Bit later tonight. Try not to forget again."
"Yes dad." I gave him my phone and hugged him tight, relaxing slightly when he held me tighter. Forgiven.
"Good. Now go, that boy's waiting for you out front." As if on cue, a horn honked outside. I smiled. He planted a kiss on my forehead then shooed me out the door, giving the boys and their truck a distasteful look.
Trent visibly deflated when I walked out the door in the same tee-shirt and baggy cargos I wore to school, minus hoodie. A few hoots and hollers from the boys in the truck bed echoed his disappointment. I rolled my eyes and joined Mickie in the backseat.
Another stupid beach party. I didn't understand why Mickie insisted on going- we never actually swam, and if we wanted to we were just pulled back and used for eye candy. It was a stupid social thing. I lounged against a tree, listening to Trent the Douchebag and his Douche squad hit on girls and act manly. It was warm enough... maybe I'd just... take a nap for this stupid party...
I heard a familiar engine growl and leaned around the tree to see Sam and one of his friends climbing out of the Camaro. I wasn't sure if I wanted to smile or face palm.
"Hey, check it out." Please not now, Trent. "Hey! Hey, I know you." Someone was climbing in my tree. I glanced up. Hippie boy. Mike? Something with an 'M', I thought. "You tried out for football last year, yeah?"
"Yeah, uh, no, that wasn't an- an actual tryout. I was doing... doing some research. For a book I'm writing." Sam.
"Oh really? What's it called? 'Sucking at sports?'" Trent and his goonies laughed. I fought a sigh and lost.
"No, it's uh, 'The link between Football and Brain Damage.'" The laughter stopped. I smiled. "It's a great book, your friends will love it, it's got games, mazes, little coloring areas-"
"Are you making fun of me?" I quickly got up and stood between them.
"Hey, hey. Stop. No fighting, please, I just got unsuspended."
Sam flickered his gaze to me, then back to Trent, then back to me again before flickering to Mikaela.
Trent huffed like an angry bull. "...Come on. I know a party." He led his cronies to the truck.
I pat Sam on the shoulder. "Nice come back. Try to stay out of trouble?" I followed the crowd to the truck.
Mikaela smooshed up to Trent. "Hey, why don't you let me drive?"
Trent was quick to deny. "Ah, no, no. See, these 22's- I don't want you grinding 'em. So, why don't my little bunnies just hop in the backseat?"
I squinted, expecting her to give him a short earful- she didn't put up with shit like that, no way. She frowned, straightening up a bit… Then she sighed and climbed in.
I tapped his shoulder. As he turned around, I swung a fist around to clock him in the eye. I prayed it would swell like a bitch.
"Angel, what the hell?!" Mickie screamed at me from the back.
I glared at her. "You're such a let-down. If Uncle Mike were here you would have punted this asshole into the lake by now. You might be able to put up with him, 'Little Bunny,' but I sure as hell won't."
She huffed open-mouthed in shock, and I turned away. "You're not going anywhere with me again. Ever."
I turned to her, already several steps down the road. "Is that supposed to change my mind? Good! I only come because you ask me to! Now if you don't mind, Bunny, I'm going home."
I could hear her apologizing to Trent behind me. It made me sick- she wasn't a sniveler, at least not when Uncle Mike had been around. She had changed so much over the two years he'd been gone- she wasn't anything like my Mickie anymore. It was almost painful. She'd gotten so... so soft. It was like she had forgotten everything we used to be- there had been a time when she was my left and I was her right, a time we went everywhere together, a time we were completely inseparable. We'd been invincible, then. A perfect two. And now... we were practically opposites.
An engine revved up to my side, and I prepared another lashing.
"Hey! Angel! I was wondering if- if I could ride you home- I mean give you a ride, a ride home, to your place, in my car. Yeah?"
I slowed down, looking at him for a long moment. He had a hopeful look on his face... but no arrogance, or... well, anything Trent had. And my hip was already starting to act out... "...Sure. Yeah."
He opened the door for me, stopping so I could drop in and buckle up. Polite. Another point in his favor. The radio kicked up another song, and I leaned on the window.
"I can't believe this is happening." I wanted to slap myself when I said it. That was supposed to be an inny, not an out.
"Well, you can duck down, if you, you know, want to hide-"
"No, no, not the being here with you part, I mean, the having to beat up Mik- ... Kaela's boyfriend. I don't usually have to fight her fights. She's always been so... so in charge. And now she's just... Typical Teenage Girl."
"Well... People... Change? You know, they, uh, they expand, they look for new things, they just... change. And sometimes for the better, sometimes not. But you don't really know until it's over, you know?"
That was… surprisingly Insightful. Hm. "...Yeah. I guess you're right." I still didn't like it.
We were rolling along the canyon road- I liked the canyon. It was so pretty, especially at sunset. I was just starting to wonder if we could stop when the engine started sputtering, then died. I sat up a little straighter. "You didn't mess with anything under the hood, did you?"
"No! I- I haven't touched anything, I just- I just picked up Miles and- and drove to the beach party and that's- that's it!" We rolled to a stop as some love song started on the radio. I frowned, pulling my hair back with the scrunchie on my wrist. Sam was babbling again- how he wasn't doing this, how he wasn't trying to be romantic and how it's something a romantic friend would do.
"Chill. Just pop the hood; I'll see what's going on."
I moved to the front and tugged the hood up, scanning over it quickly. I tightened the distributor cap, felt along a couple of hoses, tugged on the sides of them to make sure they were tight. "Turn it over for me?" He obeyed. The alternator sounded a bit worn out- that didn't make sense, though, because the rest of the engine looked brand new... "Might be... Maybe something in the undercarriage. Do you mind if I borrow your hoodie?"
He pulled it off and passed it to me. I smiled back and pulled it over my shoulders before shimmying my way under the front. "I don't see anything... Nothing really looks out of place... It could be an internal problem, then. Might be the alternator. You don't have any tools, do you?" I shimmied back out, shaking what dirt and sand I could off the hoodie and passing it back.
"Uh... maybe we could call someone in your family to bring some out?"
I stared out into the canyon, then leaned back on the bumper. "Nah. It's... it's probably the heat. Just have to wait for it to cool down, and then it should start up." I looked up at him. "Shut the hood. Might as well sit down for a little while."
I sighed again, closing my eyes. The hood thunked shut, and after a moment I could feel his presence. The sun still burned into my eyes.
"So... if- if you hate Trent so much, why do you hang out with him? You don't really seem like the type to put up with less than what you want."
I dared to open my eyes, watching the heat waves rise off the ground. "I do it for my Mickie. I know she's still in there somewhere. As much as I hate Trent, the rest of his goonies, and the stupid parties they're always dragging me to... she was my best friend, my entire childhood. I guess I'm just... waiting for her to come back."
"Oh."
"And I get to oogle hotties in beach wear, and that's always nice."
"O-oh. Right. Yeah."
"What about you?" I countered. "You're a pretty quiet guy, but you know a lot more than you let on. I can see it, every time someone asks you a question. Why don't you ever try for something more?"
"Me? Oh, I'm... I'm just a... a pretty normal guy. Average, I guess. I'm no jock, that's for sure, and I'm not exactly a brainiac. Hard to get more when you don't have anything to reach with."
"Hm." A small flock of birds flew past, drifting on the air currents. I smiled softly. A sudden urge bubbled up in my chest- I wanted to tell him more. Like how I wanted to be a pilot. About me, my dad, my uncle- about my life and about how I wanted to change the world. I swallowed hard.
Without warning, I pushed myself to my feet. "Let's see if it'll start. I should be getting home anyways."
Sam obliged, stuttering slightly as he jumped up and dropped into the driver's seat. "You, ah, you don't really talk much, do you? That's cool." He fumbled with the keys for a second, then turned it over. After a few sputters, it caught. I settled back in my seat.
The radio didn't play any more love songs. Sam and I sat quietly, listening to the oldies station- some great classic rock. Lots of AC/DC. I almost wished he would say something. Almost.
As we pulled to a stop out front of my house, the sun gone down and the street lights on, I blurted out, "You think I'm a bitch?"
"A-A- w-what? Why, why would I think that?"
"Because everyone does. I'm either a bitch or I'm just one of the boys, and honestly, I'm not sure which one I hate more." I clenched my jaw shut so I wouldn't keep growling about who I was. I was okay with my lot. It was more than enough. "Sorry, I'm being… stupid."
"Well... I... I think there's a, a lot more than meets the eye, with you."
I turned to him, scrutinizing for a moment, then let a smile spread across my face. "Thank you. And, thanks for the ride." I opened the door to climb out, leaning over to finish talking. "I'll get back to you later on the car, when I get some news from the guys. So... I'll... see you at school?"
"Y-yeah. Absolutely."
I shut the door, listening to the clang of metal before I walked back to the house. He idled in the road for a minute before taking off. I listened to the engine's growl until it faded away.
"You're a nice guy, Witwicky. Don't change that."
I'm sure you've noticed by now- Angel swears a LOT. Sorry. Not really.
I have the story all written and typed, and will try to post the next chapter every day, but I still need to do some minor editing, so I may have to delay sometimes.
Also, getting notifications about people following and favoriting my stories is a huge mood boost. I'd love to see some reviews because like any fic writer I'm a review whore, but mostly, thank you so much for not abandoning me after literally over a year with nothing.