Author's Note: Before I start this chapter, I want to explain something very quickly. The movie doesn't really explore Trent's character all that much, except that he's a typical cocky jock with a thing for shiny trucks and hot women. Much like Mikaela's character was rather unbelievable and so I tweaked it a bit, I'll be altering his a bit as well. He will play, eventually, a larger role in this story, and not necessarily in the way you might expect. He's going to go through a lot of character changes, and I just wanted to warn you ahead of time so that later I didn't get a million comments all saying, "That's not Trent! What are you doing?!" With all that said, enjoy this chapter…Sam finally goes back to school and tried desperately to retain some sense of normalcy!

Dance with the Devil

Chapter 9

By Morgan O'Conner

In the end, it was Sam's father that went to a local optometrist and secured an eye patch for his son.

Sam and Mikaela had deliberated back and forth for a while about whether or not a patch was a good idea. Mikaela thought sunglasses would work better, as well as be a bit more inconspicuous, but as Sam pointed out, there was a greater risk of them being knocked off. And, as proven, even the darkest, most tinted sunglasses didn't totally block the glow of the Cybertronian eye. While it could be attributed to a glare in some instances, if someone looked to closely, it would be noticeable. A contact was out for the same reason, and for another – when Sam did finally attempt a full transformation, any type of contact would be destroyed.

"Look, 'Kaela, the truth of the matter is, an eye patch is the only thing that will work, and it can be explained away to anyone who asks as a medical condition," Sam had said. "It just happens to work in my favor that I like the idea of looking like a dashing pirate." He grinned and ducked his friend's would-be smack.

How Ron managed to secure the patch for his son was something he didn't discuss. He simply came into his room the night before school was due to start and handed Sam an unremarkable brown paper bag. Inside was a top-of-the-line, black medical eye patch, specifically designed to not let light in or out.

As his dad left the room, Sam reflected that it had been a very quiet two days. Ever since that first night, both of his parents had seemed determined not to think about the issue at hand. Maybe they just realized there was nothing they could do about it, but it had bugged him a little that they had both refused to discuss it beyond that point. Which was probably why the patch in his hand shocked him – he had expected to have to find a way to get one himself, or at least with the help of Mikaela. He hadn't even realized his father was aware that he needed one.

He took the patch out of its little protective plastic bag and looked at it. The material was soft, and looked like it would be comfortable. He would have dealt with anything that protected his secret, but he was glad his dad had apparently made the extra effort. It was secured by some type of elastic band, which was good…it meant he wouldn't have to waste extra effort trying to tie the damn thing.

He went to stand in front of the little mirror he kept propped in his room and put the patch on. Well that's gonna take some getting used to, he thought. But it didn't look bad, either. Maybe not dashing, but not ridiculous either.

School was sure going to be interesting tomorrow.

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He had only gotten about five hours of sleep, but that coupled with the fact that he had also gone into stasis helped Sam open his eyes the next morning feeling wide awake and nervous. The time and temperature flashed in his field of vision, but he didn't need an internal computer to tell him that he was already running late, and if it was this sweltering in his room, outside would be unbearable. Wasn't it supposed to be almost Fall?

An energy gauge also flashed before his Cybertronian eye, telling him that he was fully rested after a full night of sleep and stasis, and that data was quickly followed by stats on his other normal health as well.

He shook his head, still not used to that, and swung his legs out of bed to focus on getting ready.

Before he left the house, he was stopped by his mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table with an untouched cup of coffee in front of her. "Sam?" she asked, as he was reaching for the doorknob.

"Yeah Mom, what's up?" He turned away from the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, making a concentrated effort to sound as normal as possible, like it was just any other day of school.

"Well…just…have a good day, Sam," she said. "And try not to listen to anyone who might make fun of you." She indicated the new eye patch with a nod before grinning, just a little. "It does make you look rather handsome, you know."

"Oh geez, Mom," he said with an eye roll, but he was smiling. "Thanks. And I'll try. On both counts." He turned to the door again.

"Sam?"

And turned back. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Your father and I talked about it a little. We'd both like to meet some of your…Autobot friends. When things settle down. If you think it's a good idea. I'll even promise not to have a drink first."

Touched, Sam nodded. "I'd like you to meet them…at least Bumblebee. Although…you already have, sort of…" He trailed off, thinking of the day Bumblebee had come into his room to make sure he wasn't hurting himself. That day seemed a distant memory, and he was grateful. "Anyway, yeah…when things aren't so crazy with going back to school…that's a good idea. Thanks…"

Judy smiled. "Now, shoo, or you'll be late! You should never be late on your first day back, you know. And try to be home at a reasonable time for once!"

Sam grinned on the entire drive to school, and Bumblebee stayed quiet, letting his human (He'd always think of Sam as his human) enjoy some genuine happiness without interruption.

They parked at the edge of the school parking lot, the farthest spot from the building, and Sam grabbed up his backpack and got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride, Bee," he said quietly, running a hand over the hood of the Camaro.

Good luck, Sam, was the reply in his head, and his smile widened before he finally turned and made his way warily up toward the school.

Mikaela met him halfway and casually linked her arm with his, a gesture of support, and a statement to anyone who might try and start something with him. "How you doing?" she asked as they walked.

He shrugged. "Pretty good actually. My parents want to meet with the Autobots, which is a little crazy. Picture my mom standing there chatting with a thirty-foot robot from outer space. Popcorn moments galore. I'm hoping you'll come with whenever it happens."

Mikaela snickered. "I wouldn't dare miss it."

They were nearing the typical mass of teenagers surrounding the main doors leading inside, and Sam was starting to notice a lot of them pointing at him and whispering to each other. "Well, this should be fun," he said with a sigh.

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When Sam realized he was going to be made to suffer through another year of Mr. Hosney's teaching style for senior history, he groaned. When he walked into the room and realized the class list was almost the same as last year's, he very nearly walked right back out, and would have if Mikaela hadn't grabbed his arm and dragged him to a seat in the back of the classroom.

"Mr. Witwicky!" the teacher said. "A pleasure for you to join us…late, but that's not unexpected. Can I ask what you're doing wearing that…charming eye patch? No doubt trying to make a fashion statement so you can sell them and make a bundle?"

"No, sir," Sam replied. "It's for a medical condition. My eye can't be subjected to any type of light for an indefinite amount of time. You're free to call my parents and verify, but chances are I'll have to wear it for the rest of the year."

A few people in the class snickered, but Sam was quick to notice that Trent stayed silent, and refused to look anywhere in the vicinity of Sam and Mikaela. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he thought Mikaela might have to talk to the jock and see what, if anything, he remembered.

Mr. Hosney tapped a finger on his stupid "quiet" sign, and shot another glance at Sam, as if the snickers and whispers were entirely his fault. "Rest assured, Mr. Witwicky, I will be verifying your information. For now, class, reach under your seats and pull out the textbook resting there. This will be your bible for the next several months, and I recommend you treat it as you would a holy text. That means no writing in it, throwing it, driving over it, bending the pages, or losing it. Turn to page…"

The rest of the morning was much the same as that first class, with varying degrees of disbelief from teachers, and varying volumes of laughter from students. Sam had never been even close to popular, and while Trent could probably come to school wearing the same eye patch, and the next day everyone else would be as well, Sam was not surprised to find himself being the source of much amusement. He tried not to let it bother him though, knowing how important it was that his secret stay hidden.

At lunch, which he had separate from Mikaela on this particular day, he sat by himself at a small table near the back of the cafeteria and nibbled on a sandwich. He had a magazine open next to him, but couldn't really focus on it enough to be reading all about the hottest new game systems. He had a headache (which answered the question about whether or not he could still get headaches), and was more than ready for the day to be over already. He still had two classes to get through, and a free period in between.

He was just contemplating going outside and sitting in his car for a few minutes of much-needed silence when a shadow fell over him and he looked up into the angry eyes of Trent.

"Witwicky," the jock said, crossing his arms.

"Congratulations, you finally know my name, and it only took you twelve years to figure it out. Can I help you?"

"First of all, you should know that I haven't forgotten any of our last…encounter. I'm going to tear you apart one of these days, Witwicky. And whatever kind of…freakinshness you're a part of isn't gonna save you next time."

"You were drunk, Trent. You don't know what you saw," Sam said quietly. He tried to sound calm, unconcerned even, but inside he was shaking. If this jackass said anything, and it got back to the wrong person…

"Oh, I know, trust me I know. I had the whole last few weeks to think about it…remember it…but don't worry. That's the other thing I wanted to tell you. I won't say anything about it to anyone. Yet. You're mine, and I wanted you to know that. When I beat the crap out of you, I want you to know exactly why I'm doing it. And no one else is going to have an excuse to take that away from me."

"Go to hell," Sam muttered, grabbing up his bag and standing. Before he could make it far, Trent grabbed his arm and spun him back.

"Don't you forget, Witwicky. One day, you're gonna get yours."

This wasn't Trent's usual bully-speak that Sam had grown up knowing and hating. This was serious. Trent was on a revenge-quest for making him look like an idiot that night. He was the only one who had seen Sam's arm transform, and his friends probably thought he was a wimp for letting him go. But at least he knew he'd keep quiet for now. He'd have to work with Mikaela to figure out a way to make that silence more permanent.

He wrenched his arm from Trent's grasp and walked away, leaving the scowling jock staring after him.

He was halfway through the parking lot when the second unwelcome encounter came. Upon reflection, Sam realized that seeing the person who had been his best friend nearly his whole life shouldn't be unwelcome, but he didn't get the feeling that Miles was going to be thrilled with him at the moment. Guilt flooded him at the realization that he'd avoided his friend mercilessly the entire summer, and now he was going to have to lie to him on top of it.

"Sam," Miles said, jumping down from the hood of the beat up car he'd been sitting on. Sam realized this must be his, and felt another twinge of guilt for not knowing his friend had gotten a car finally.

"Hey Miles," Sam replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"So."

"Yeah."

They were both silent for a long moment, before Sam sighed. "Look, Miles, I'm really sorry about this summer man. Things were…intense…and I didn't want you caught up in the middle of it. I should've called or something."

"Yeah, you probably should've," Miles replied. "I mean, I had to hear about the chick while I was on my family vacation, from Jake of all people, weeks after the fact. And then I saw you driving that kick-ass car around town, but did I ever get a call saying you had one of the hottest cards in town? No. And then I hear about you kicking Trent's ass when we come back to school and everyone's talking about it. And then -"

"Hey, dude, I know, I'm a wicked bad friend," Sam said, not able to stand hearing anymore, especially since he knew all of the accusations were basically true. "For what it's worth, 'Kaela and I broke up. And Trent was drunk of his ass and I never actually touched him. And that car…well, there's a story there, but not for right now. Look, you heard about Mission City right?"

"All that crap on the news? Course I heard about it. Everyone heard about it on the news. Some crazy military experiment gone wrong, lot of people dead."

Is that what they're saying? I should have watched the news more this summer… "Miles, I was there," Sam said quietly. "I can't talk about it much, a lot of it was hushed up by the government…but it was bad. And some shit happened there that…well, like I said, I couldn't talk about. I'm sorry. Facing people after all that was rough. Yeah, I should've called you, and I'm sorry I didn't…but could you try not to hold it against me?"

Miles' eyes had widened considerably. "Dude, you were there?" he asked in awe.

And just like that, all was forgiven. Miles wanted to know everything that Sam was allowed to talk about dealing with Mission City (Sam used his bullshitting skills to the max and felt guilty the entire time), and then they talked and laughed for a few minutes, catching up (as much as Sam was allowed to catch his friend up, anyway), and trying to forget that for the first summer ever, they hadn't spoken.

"So, dude, can I check out that hot ride you have? And how did you manage that, anyway?"

Sam laughed. "Well…it sorta has to do with stuff I can't talk about…but yeah, you can go take a look. I'd give you a ride home, but you seem to be doing okay in the car department."

Miles glanced over at the beat up, blue Chevy El Camino he'd been sitting on earlier. "Yeah, finally talked my parents into it for senior year. It took awhile, but I snagged that girl. She's not much to look at, but she rides like a dream."

They made their way over to where Bumblebee sat gleaming in the sunlight and Sam, as he always subconsciously did, ran a hand lightly over the hood in greeting. How you doin' buddy?

I am well, Sam, and glad to see you with old friends.

"Duuuuuuuuuude," Miles said with a low whistle. "Look at this baby. This is a hell of a gorgeous car, man! Someone up there must love you! A car like this will get you any girl you want!"

Sam laughed. "Yeah, well, not really in the girl market at the moment, but it's a nice thought."

"So you and the 'evil jock concubine' broke up, did you?"

"Yes, and don't call her that," Sam admonished. "We're still friends. Good friends, in fact, and she's not a huge fan of Trent and his cronies anymore either."

"Hey man, that's cool with me. Just seemed weird, y'know. You've been after her since the first grade, and when you finally get her…poof. What happened?"

It didn't hurt as much as it had to think about what he'd lost. But it still hurt. Sam managed a shrug. "We worked better as friends, that's all. Besides, my only true love can ever be this car." He was proud when he even pulled off another laugh.

Indeed?

Shut it, Bee.

"Yeah, well, I'd probably feel the same way if I was cruising around in a car like this one," Miles agreed.

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The end of the day finally came, not nearly fast enough for Sam's taste, but it came. After he parted ways with Miles, he trudged off to Math, endured more whispering and raised eyebrows, sat with Bumblebee throughout his free period, and managed not to snore his way through English. When the final bell rang, he was up like a shot and racing through the halls to get the hell out.

"Hey, Sam, wait up!" Mikaela said, coming up from behind him with a laugh. "You mind if I hitch a ride home? I took the bus here, but I hate it."

"Fine by me, I need to talk to you about Trent anyway," he said. "Y'know, I don't mind giving you a ride to and from school until you can get your own car. I doubt Bee will mind either."

She breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Do you know how awesome you are?"

"I have some idea," he grinned.

They climbed into the Camaro and Sam ran a hand over the steering wheel. "Hey, Bee, we don't mind picking up 'Kaela and bringing her home from school, right?"

The engine revved in response and Sam shot another grin at his friend. "See? Told ya."

"Thanks, Bee," Mikaela said with a smile of her own.

They pulled out of the school parking lot and onto the main street, talking animatedly about the first day and all the horrors the new school year would bring, feeling relaxed and happy despite the trials they both knew were still coming.

They did not notice the bright red eyes that watched their every move from the shadows.

Chapter completed on May 29, 2008