Chapter Two

Jack sighed with relief when they got home in one piece. It was a slow drive. Especially for a car that liked to spin cookies off-road in the middle of the desert just to get dirty enough so that Jack's mom would take him to the car wash. Climbing out of the passenger seat, Jack hit the button to close the garage door.

"Wait," Jack told Bumblebee. "Don't transform yet."

Reaching into the backseat, Jack pulled out Raf's booster seat and dumped it in the corner with his backpack. He also found a crumbled-up juice box on Miko's side of the car.

"You guys can't just leave stuff in there," he told the younger kids. "Bumblebee isn't a normal car. He could get hurt if he transforms with this in him."

"Oh," Raf said, putting a hand on Bumblebee's foot. "I'm sorry."

Transforming, Bumblebee chirped reassuringly. He gave the boy a very fond pat on the head.

"So now what?" Miko asked.

Raf looked up at Jack with hopeful eyes, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his small nose. "Can we use your laptop to watch a movie?"

"Can you set up the projector?" Jack asked.

Raf nodded.

"Then, yeah. Go ahead."

"Okay!" The younger boy grabbed Miko's hand and pulled her away. "Come on, Miko. Jack's mom bought a new racing movie. It almost got rated PG 13."

"Does it have explosions?"

Again, Raf nodded.

"Then sign me up!"

Jack shook his head as the two bounded out of the room. When they were gone, he turned to Bumblebee. As the bot transformed, he cast a dark shadow over Jack. The garage ceiling was low, so he had to sit down or else his head would put another hole in the drywall. "You weren't actually sneaking away from Miko's parents," he asked, "were you?"

Bumblebee shook his head.

"If something happens, though, your military friends will help. Right?"

At that, Bumblebee launched into a tirade of beeps, buzzes, and whirs. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he flexed his arms (he was a muscle car after all). He punched a battered fist into his other palm. Even without words, Jack got the gist of what Bumblebee was telling him.

"You're probably right," he teased, "but you can let your friends help you. I bet they miss you."

That got an accusing finger brandished under Jack's direction. He looked away, laughing nervously. "Yeah, you're right."

Bumblebee didn't talk much about his military friends, not even to Raf. But Jack knew they were close. Two of them were listed as emergency contacts in Jack's phone under ARCEE and CLIFF. Every now and then, when they couldn't get a hold of Bee directly, they sent texts to Jack's phone to check on him. They weren't long texts, usually only about three or four words long, and often went something like:

STILL ROUGHIN' IT COWBOY?

and

r u ok?

It was strange getting texts from robots Jack had never met. What were they like? They weren't all going to try to live in his garage, were they?

One alien was hard enough to keep out of trouble. In fact, it was a miracle that Mom still had no idea that the family car regularly helped Jack with his chores; lately, Jack had taken to letting Bumblebee dry dishes in hopes of teaching him that human things were fragile. Maybe one day Mom would find out and see how helpful Bumblebee really was.

And then they wouldn't have to get a new car.

The day went on without any major incidents. Miko managed to clog the toilet again, but in her defense, the house had old pipes, and clogs were normal unless you used precisely the right amount of toilet paper. Otherwise, the kids mostly watched movies and hung out. They taught Bumblebee how to play Monopoly, except instead of using pretend money, they used Jack's mom's secret stash of gummy bears.

Raf's parents came to pick him up at four. Soon after, Jack had to kick Miko out of the house. She lived nearby. Plus, Mom told him that she had to stay late to help cover someone else's shift but would be home by five with pizza.

Six o'clock came around, though, and Jack's mom still wasn't home. Weird. The carpool should have dropped her off by now. Maybe she was just picking up the pizza like she said, Jack reasoned. Maybe she got stuck in a long line or something.

By seven thirty, Jack sent her a text. A half hour passed with no response. Jack sent another text, this one snarkier than the last. Mom hated snarky. She would probably respond right away with a lecture on watching his tone.

Why do you get to be late and I don't?

Mom?

Mommmm?

Hello?

When the microwave clock struck 9:10 PM, Jack decided to call the hospital. He figured there was probably an emergency and the doctors needed extra help. But when he called the head nurse, she sounded confused to hear that someone was looking for June. "Nurse Darby left at four with her ride. Did she ever make it home?"

"Um, no," Jack said, scratching the back of his head. He knew now, for sure, that something was wrong. Something was really wrong. "It's probably a misunderstanding. I'll call her cell phone. Thanks."

"Jack, hold on a sec—"

As Jack hung up, the house seemed suddenly a lot darker than it had before, and he practically jumped four feet when the icemaker turned on, grinding loudly as it crushed the new ice. That stupid icemaker! Jack hated that thing. At night, when he was all by himself, he could hear it turn from his bedroom, making noises that sounded a lot like strangers walking around in the empty house in the middle of the night. Normally, Jack pretending to be unbothered, but…

He couldn't do it.

Not tonight.

He just couldn't sleep by himself tonight.

So he plugged the flip phone back into its charger, locked the front door, and went to his room. Then he grabbed all the bedding from his bed, plus all of the pillows from his mom's bedroom, and dragged them back to the garage. He didn't care if she came home only to find out that there were no pillows left in the house, or that Jack had stayed up all night, watching rated R movies in the garage.

Mom could yell at him all she wanted.

As long as she came home to do it.

Morning came.

At first, when Jack woke up sprawled across an inflatable pool toy, surrounded by spilled popcorn, DVD cases, and every pillow in the house, he was confused. The Mad Max DVD was still playing its menu theme on repeat. Reaching over, Jack closed the laptop, and the projector turned off with a wink.

"Morning," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair, which stood on end in all directions. Crawling out of the mess, Jack stumbled to his feet and stretched.

Bumblebee was sitting in the corner, watching him curiously. This was a new experience for him. Jack had never slept in the garage; he had certainly never built a nest of such epic proportions. The robot pointed to Jack's makeshift bed, chirping quizzically.

"Sleepover stuff," Jack said, stifling a yawn. "It's what kids do with the friends. We watch movies together, eat junk food, and try to stay up all night. I used to have them all the time my friends from the other school before we moved to Jasper."

Bumblebee held out his hands, with the index fingers curled slightly. He linked them together, then reversed the motion. It was the baby-sign for friend. Jack had learned it in pre-school when he was a toddler. He used to know more signs, but he could only remember the ones for bacon, the letter J for Jack, and turtle. He was thinking about trying to learn again, but the library was shot for useful books and Mom was pretty strict about him using the internet except for school. Maybe when he got into college, he could find a good teacher.

"Yeah," Jack said, mirroring the motion. "You're my friend."

He gave the 'bot a solid fist bump (for good measure), then wandered to the kitchen. He could smell the coffee from the garage. Mom didn't have a lot of vices. But coffee. Coffee was very important in the Darby household. Even on Mom's day off, the pot was usually half gone by the time Jack woke up. Looking at it, he saw that it was still full.

"Mom?" he called, but all he heard was the hum of the air conditioner. Grabbing his phone, he checked for any new texts.

There were three.

One, from a girl he liked (he quickly responded with a smiley face).

Two from ARCEE and CLIFF.

Before Jack opened the messages, he called his mom. The call, however, went straight to voicemail. It didn't even ring. Jack was about to search the entire house—maybe she came home late and fell asleep somewhere?—when he happened to catch a glimpse through the kitchen window.

Two black cars were parked outside the house, blocking the driveway. Both had their lights on, but neither one had a driver, and Jack didn't recognize either model. Jack snapped a picture with his phone.

Awesome.

Things in the Darby house just got even weirder.

"Are they black cars?" Jack asked, almost running back to the garage. He found Bumblebee cautiously over the sleepover mess, poking inquisitively at the pool pad. The pressure must have been too much, though, though, because the green plastic popped suddenly, startling them both.

"The ones you were hiding from yesterday," Jack repeated as the toy deflated, whistling pathetically. "They're cars, too, right? Are they black?"

Bee's optics twisted, narrowing.

"See?" Jack showed him the picture. "They're blocking the driveway."

"Arcee and Cliff texted you, too." Opening the messages, Jack read them out loud. "Arcee says, OP wants you home. Cliff says, yeehaw with a laughing face." Jack looked up. "Wait. You're leaving?"

Bumblebee responded hesitantly. The sound he eventually made was reassuring, maybe even apologetic, but Jack wasn't sure.

"What about the guys outside?"

Bumblebee pointed to the phone, then made a motion with his thumbs as if he were texting. Jack took a guess and sent the picture to both contacts. He was still looking at the phone when mouthguard Bee wore over his mouth retracted.

"We should leave."

The voice was scratchy and weak, barely audible over the static.

Jack's eyes snapped up. He stared. "Did you just…talk to me?!"

Bumblebee made an impatient gesture as the phone buzzed in Jack's hand. It was another text from Cliff. Just then, Jack heard thumping outside the garage door. It sounded like footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Stray kernels of popcorn bounced off the floor with each thump.

Looking back at the phone, Jack quickly read the text message.

"All this time…I mean. I get it. You sound awful. But I thought you literally couldn't speak English. Did you break your voice? Does it hurt?"

The Autobot didn't answer. Turning he touched a tentative hand to his throat, then transformed, engine revving.

"Cliff says he's nearby. Do you want back up?"

The footsteps were getting louder. Jack heard the driveway's concrete pavement crack loudly under the stomping feet. Through a tiny crack under the garage door, Jack saw a shadow moving around.

"Uh, I'm typing yes," he decided. "We want backup. We definitely want back up."

Bumblebee laid on the horn, long and loud, headlights flashing as the radio went crazy. The driver's door popped open, beckoning Jack.

"I can't leave," he protested, backing up until he could feel the wall behind him. "What about mom?"

Static filled the garage. "Jack—"

Something heavy slammed into the bottom of the garage door, denting it. Cracks of sunlight spilled into the garage. Long pointed claws curled underneath the door, crunching the metal in its iron grip. Relenting, Jack scrambled to the car. The cab had a slight chemical smell that wasn't normal, but Jack didn't pay much attention to it. He was already clicking the seatbelt into place when his phone buzzed with another text.

And what happened next, Jack would only be able to recall as a blur.