You guys are awesome!

Thanks for all the reviews and the new followers!

By the way, I made a minor mistake at the last chapter, this is their 11th grade, not 10th grade. I went back and fixed it now already. And there aren't any major changes here yet aside from the comments of our little Carol, so everything is still canon. For now, anyways.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, only my OC and this fic.

Chapter 3

...

"Okay, Mr. Witwicky, you're up."

I watched silently as Sam lugged his backpack to the front, glancing back at the teacher (couldn't care at all for his name) before dumping his stuff on the table, muttering, "Sorry, I got a lot of stuff."

I knew what was coming next and glanced back at Trent who whispered, "Watch." to Mikaela before loading a rubber band on fingers.

"So for my family gen—", and Sam was cut off when the rubber band hit his lower left jaw. The whole class laughed except me. I just sighed at the events and decided to just let it go canon for now.

The teacher stood up, sputtering. "Who—who did that? People! Responsibility." His lessons were as boring as his looks. Speaking of, I eyed my brown-black locks with disdain. They were way too long to be practical, reaching mid-back. I made a note to visit a barber shop sometime in the future, hopefully before stuff (alien robot war) begin to escalate.

Sam started on his presentation when the laughter died down and the teacher returned to his seat. "So for my family genealogy report, I decided to do it on my great-great grandfather, who was, uh, a famous man. Captain Archibald Witwicky. Very famous explorer. In fact, he was one of the first to explore the Arctic Circle, which is a big deal." Here, he held up one of the maps depicting the Arctic Circle.

"In 1897, he took 41 brave sailors straight into the arctic shelf..."

I breathed deeply and my sight unfocused as I remembered the movie, imagining the Captain with his sailors hacking away at the ice, the Captain shouting about the ice freezing faster than it was melting and the Witwicky family motto, 'No sacrifice, no victory.'

"So that's the story right?" Sam's voice interrupted my daydreaming and I focused back at him, watching silently as he changed locations to show the class the items he brought. "And here we have some of the basic instruments and tools used by 19th century seamen."

The class laughed at the word and the teacher raised the little sign he uses, the one with the word 'quiet' on it which was about as useful as an ice cube in a desert. "This here's the quadrant, which you can get for 80 bucks; it's all for sale by the way. Like the sextant," The class laughed again and the teacher had to raise the little sign, again, "Here, 50 dollars for this which is a bargain."

I had to bite on my lip to keep from groaning in embarrassment. Sam did stuff so shamelessly enough for the both of us, heck maybe even for the whole Witwicky family.

"Here, this is pretty cool. This is my grandfather's eyeglasses. I haven't quite gotten them appraised yet, but they've seen many cool things."

"Are you going to sell me his liver?" the teacher interrupted. I sighed just for the heck of it. Why did I have a brother like that? "Mr. Witwicky, this isn't the show and sell, it's the 11th grade. I don't think your grandfather would be particularly proud of what you're doing."

Sam barely had anything apologetic in his expression as he apologized. "I know, I'm sorry. I just, you know, this is all going towards my car fund. You can tell your folks, it's on eBay. I take , cold hard cash works too." Shameless man, he is. The teacher agrees if his exasperated sigh was a sign. "And the compass makes a great gift for Columbus day."

"Sam!"

"Sorry. Unfortunately, my great-great grandfather, genius that he was, wound up going blind and crazy in a psycho ward, drawing these strange symbols and babbling on about some giant ice man that he thought he'd discovered."

At the exact same moment, the bell rang and students were standing up, quick and eager to get away.

"Okay, might be a pop quiz tomorrow, might not! Sleep in fear tonight."

I stood up and dumped my stuff in my black backpack, fixing my equally black jacket and grey shirt. I was all for dark colors this week. My faded jeans didn't match my style though. Damn. I eyed my black converse; maybe I should get new shoes too.

I hefted my bag on one shoulder walked out, calling out to Sam, "Sam! I'm going on ahead." He gave an almost dismissive wave of his hand before walking to the teacher's desk. I only raised a brow at his near-rude attitude before running out to Dad's car.

I gave an absent-minded 'hey dad' as I jumped over the door (roofless cars are so awesome, one of the few awesome things about Ron), landing on the front seat.

"Hey." he greeted back. "Your guitar's at the back. How's school?"

I shrugged and changed places so I could sit at the back with my beloved guitar, dumping my bag at my side. "Same old, same old. Boring, teachers with droning voices, pop quizzes tomorrow." I opened my guitar case and ran my hands over the design at the edge. "Why do they even hire teachers like that?" I asked rhetorically, storing my guitar back in its case. I made plans to have some of the chips fixed up, some jocks had messed with it a while back and they got a punch to the face, courtesy of moi.

"Eh, teaching's a boring job, they get like that a lot. The teachers, I mean." Ron replied, looking back at the front, obviously bored.

I only hummed in reply before digging out my white headphones (gift from Miles, who'd have thought he got a great taste for gadgets? Though I suppose that was pretty obvious since he was a gamer) from my bag, putting it around my neck for the meantime.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Ron and I looked up at Sam who looked deliriously happy waving his paper a lot. He immediately sat in the car, still waving around that paper of his. "A-. It's an A though."

"Wait wait wait, I can't see." Sam just about thrust the paper in dad's face. "It's an A."

"So I'm good?"

"Yeah, you're good."

And so began more Sam-cheers which consisted of plenty of 'yes, yes, yes!' and just plain happiness and joy spreading around the car and annoying me and dad greatly.

I rolled my eyes as Dad started up the car. It wasn't long before Dad drove up near the Porsche cars stuff. Forgot what they called these things. Dealerships?

"I got a little surprise for you son."

"What—what kind of...?" Sam was looking at the Porsche dealership with dawning realization.

"Yeah, a little surprise."

"No...no, no, no, no Dad!" I swear you can feel the joy and happiness and rainbows and shizz in Sammy-boy's voice. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me!"

"Yeah. I am." the smug, near-sadistic satisfaction was palpable in Dad's voice. "You're not getting a Porsche."

At that, Sam's face fell and his happiness disappeared as fast as it appeared. Dad's light chuckles prompted my quiet giggles at the back.

"Dad's pretty cheap Sam. You should know that by now." I chirped in the back.

"You think that's funny?" Dad continued to drive, and the Porsche dealership disappeared from view fast.

"Yeah, I think it's funny."

"What's wrong with you?"

"What? You'd think I'd really get you a Porsche? For your first car?" We were now entering Bobby Bolivia's. I glanced back and saw Bumblebee following us, disappearing around the back as Dad parked the car.

"I don't want to talk to you for the rest of this whole thing." Dad laughed again at Sam's words.

"Oh come on, it's just a practical joke."

"It's not a funny joke." Aaaaaaand now, Sam's sulking.

We all left the car and I brought my guitar case with me, leaving my jacket back at the car. It was way too hot for it. I followed the father-son pair into the dealership quietly, trying to glimpse Bumblebee in the place.

"Here? No, no, no what is this? You said—you said half a car, not half a piece of crap Dad."

"When I was your age, I was happy with four wheels and an engine."

"Okay, okay, let me explain something to you, okay?" The two stopped at one place as Sam started. "You ever see the 40 year old virgin?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, that's what this is." Sam pointed to the car right beside us and then pointed to the one at the other side. "And this is the 50 year old virgin."

"Okay..."

"You want me to live that life? Hm?" Sam almost sounded scolding. Maybe he's just desperate.

Dad just rolled his eyes. "No sacrifice, no victory."

"Yeah, yeah, no victory. You know, I got it. The old Witwicky motto. Right."

I chipped in. "Think of it this way, Sam," Both men turned their attention to me. "This is just a test run, just so you can get used to it. Until you're any better and manage to get some money, you can start saving up and buy a new one, or upgrade what you're gonna have if it's any good."

Sam seemed to seriously contemplate on this.

"Listen to your sister Sam, she's got a good brain on her shoulders."

Both Sam and I deadpanned at him. We both knew how wrong that was since I was just plain crazy at times.

"Gentlemen!" The three of us turned as Bobby Bolivia greeted us.

"I'll just go ahead and check out potential cars." I said to my brother and Dad and both seemed to agree so I went on ahead on my own.

I pretended not to notice as Bumblebee drove up the empty parking space while I was eyeing the ostrich weirdly. Why did Bolivia have an ostrich here?

"Hey Mammy!" I glanced back at Bobby B and Sam. "Aw, don't be like that, if I had a rock, I'd bust your head, bitch! I tell you man, she deaf, you know?" It was followed by Bolivia's stranger-than-that-ostrich laugh.

I walked on and looked around, pretending to notice Bumblebee for the first time. I walked over and ran my hand on his hood, appreciating the warm smoothness.

I called Sam over. "Hey Sam!" Both him and Dad looked back at me. "Check this one out."

The group walked over and I ducked in to check out the interior, leaving my guitar case at the back of the Camaro. The little disco ball hanging at the rear view mirror reflected light at my eyes and cursed it faintly, failing to hide a smile at the bee-yotch air freshener hanging with the ball.

"This ain't bad." I heard Sam say from outside. "This one's got racing stripes."

"Obviously." I called out from the passenger seat where I was checking stuff out.

"Yeah, it got racing...Yeah, what's this? What the heck is this?"

Sam opened the door and sat in the driver's seat. "Feels pretty good." he murmured.

"It does, doesn't it?" I murmured in reply and leaned over to his side, watching as he wiped the dust from the insignia at the wheel. "What's that?" I pointed out to him and he shrugged. "I have no idea." he said.

We both ignored Bobby B as started calling for 'Manny', whoever that was.

"How much?" Dad asked when he saw how much we both liked it.

"Well," Bobby B started, "considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and custom paint job—"

"Yeah, but the paint's faded." Sam butted in and Bobby ducked down to face both of us.

"Well, yeah, but it's custom."

"So it's custom faded?" I asked, raising a single eyebrow. Suddenly, I felt fulfilled, having said one of my favorite lines in the movie.

"Well this is your first car, I wouldn't expect you to understand." He stood back up again. "Five grand." he announced.

"No, I'm not paying over four, sorry."

Bobby was quick to duck back down and shoo us out. "Kids, come on, get out. Get out of the car."

Of course, Sam was also quick to defend his beliefs (starting to sound a bit weird there). "No, no, no, you said cars pick their drivers."

"Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father. Out the car."

I shot him a dirty look when he wasn't facing us and Sam and I stared longingly at Bumblebee. I went out soon enough, grabbing my guitar case with me, walking around the front to stay beside Sam, who was much slower in leaving Bumblebee.

Dad pointed out the Fiesta with racing stripes and Sam sulkily replied, "No, I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes." I want this one, went unsaid. Beside Sam, I solemnly nodded in agreement, even though I knew we were getting this one car right here soon.

Meanwhile, Bolivia continued on prattling about the other car. "This one's a classic engine, right here. I sold the car the other day—"

At the exact same moment, Sam closed the car door and the one at the other side popped right back out. I covered my mouth to try—and fail—to muffle my giggles at his misfortune.

"That was awesome." Sam whispered to me as Dad went to check on Bobby B.

"I know right?" I whispered back and we shared a few minutes of mirth.

"...greater than man..." I suddenly heard the radio and I braced myself as Bobby B walked out from the dented car and started prattling again.

I was quick to duck down and cover my ears as a deafening tune started up and glass shattered everywhere.

It ended in a few moments and I watched Bobby B stand up, staring, horrified, at all of his ruined merchandise. He turned back to us, four fingers raised. "Four thousand." he said, voice cracking as he did.

I couldn't help it, I giggled again at the look on his face.

Sam's happiness was palpable within a meter from him. I smiled for the first time this day.

Longest chapter yet, and it's gonna get longer. Reviews, anyone?