Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Pixar. All OCs belong to me.

Chapter 3 – A New Home

Just over a month later, I found myself locked securely inside a custody cell at the Chicago airport, awaiting my flight. Barely an hour earlier, my social worker, Adrian Towsky had arrived along with two police officers, at the youth care home where I'd been staying ever since my appearance in court. They'd barely let me finish my breakfast before they'd bundled me into a police wagon and taken me away to the airport. They hadn't told me much, except that I was being taken to Florida.

If I was truly honest with myself, I was glad that I'd been taken away so quickly. The youth care home hadn't been that great. It was really just a share house, overseen by two CPS case managers. There had been four other young male cars in the house with me, and I'd had to share a room with a tough streetwise seventeen-year-old yellow Mustang. He was in the youth home because he was waiting for a vacancy to open for him in a rehab centre. During my time there, he'd often snuck outside to smoke whatever drugs he happened to have been able to sneak into the house. The smell of his drugs had made me feel sick during most of my stay there, despite my complaints to the case managers. Overall though, I was decently looked after during my stay. I certainly never wanted for anything. We were all very well-fed, got plenty of sleep and we were also allowed to go for daily supervised drives. The only downside was that we'd all had to wear satellite tracking devices that were attached to our front right-hand tyres. The only way they could be removed was with a special gadget that only the police had access to. I'd found mine uncomfortable at first, but I'd soon become so used to it that by the end of my stay, I'd forgotten that I was even wearing it.

Hearing several approaching engines, I stood up straighter on my tyres. A key jangled in the lock and the cell door swung open. Two police officers entered my cell. Without saying a word, they secured wheel cuffs to each of my front wheels. The cuffs were made of a heavy chain about a yard long, with a powerful magnet attached to each end. The magnets clamped onto the centre of my wheels, ensuring that I could still drive, but be unable to escape. The other ends of the wheel cuffs were secured to each police car's front wheel. Thus, I was secured between them.

Once the wheel cuffs had been secured, the police officers escorted me out into the hallway. Adrian was parked at the reception desk, sorting out the paperwork.

"Adrian…" I whimpered. "Do I have to go by plane?"

"It is the fastest and safest way to get you to Florida," Adrian replied

I was starting to panic. I'd never flown before, so I had no idea what to expect. All I knew about planes was that they sometimes crashed. My fear of heights didn't help now either. I started to shiver as my fight or flight instinct kicked in. Without giving any warning, I accelerated suddenly. My sudden lunge caught the police officers off-guard, but they immediately reacted by locking on their brakes. The wheel cuffs held me securely as I tried to race away from my restraints. However, all I ended up doing was a burnout in the middle of the hallway.

Adrian drove in front of me, and he slammed a tyre down on my hood. "Stop it, Monty!" he shouted. Gulping, I cut my engine. I was still hyperventilating as the smoke from my burnout dissipated.

"I think we'd better have him sedated for the flight," one of the police officers suggested. "If he tries to get away from us on the flight, someone could get hurt."

"Yes, I think you're right," Adrian agreed. He stared at my eyes, but since I was still having a panic attack, I couldn't focus. Adrian turned to the receptionist. "Can you send for a medic, please? Tell him that we have a minor in State care that needs to be sedated."

"No!" I snapped. I revved my engine again. The wheel cuff chains tightened, but they held me fast. "I don't want to be sedated!"

The adults ignored me as I continued to fight against my restraints. A few minutes later, the airport medic arrived. After Adrian had explained the situation to him, I saw him fill a hypodermic syringe out of the corner of my eye.

"No!" I shouted again when I saw the medic start to approach me. I began fighting even harder to try and get away. In fact, I fought so hard that I almost flipped over onto my roof.

"Stop him!" Adrian ordered the police officers. "He's going to hurt himself!"

The police officer on my right raised his front left tyre (the one which was cuffed to me), and he placed it firmly, but gently down on top of my roof. He pressed his weight down on me. It wasn't enough to hurt me, but the force pressed me down onto my chaise, almost winding me. The medic took that opportunity to inject the sedative into one of my oil lines in my rear left wheel-hub.

"Ow!" I yelped when I felt the needle stab me. Tears filled my eyes due to the pain, but I managed to blink them away before anyone saw them.

Once the medic had removed the needle, he drove over to where Adrian was still parked in front of me. They watched me for a moment as I fought against the effects of the sedative. My breathing started to slow, but I remained tense. The police officer pinning me down started to cautiously remove his wheel from my roof. As soon as I could no longer feel his weight on top of me, I leapt to my tyres, and I lunged forwards again. I heard the police officer that had pinned me down cry out in pain.

"Stop, Monty!" Adrian shouted desperately. "Just STOP!"

"LET ME GO!" I screamed as I accelerated yet again.

The medic looked shocked to see that the sedative had had little effect on me. "I think I'd better give him another dose."

"No! No more needles!" I shouted at him as I tried to spin away from him. "Stay away from me!"

The medic ignored me. This time, the police officer on my left pinned me down for the injection. I growled furiously when I felt the needle going into me again. It took a few minutes, but the sedative finally kicked in. I twitched a few times as I tried to fight it. However, I'd completely worn myself out by then, so I no longer had the strength to fight against the sedative. I heard a collective sigh of relief from the adults around me when they saw that I was struggling to stay awake.

"How long will that last?" Adrian asked the medic.

"A few hours. I'm amazed at how well he was able to fight it! He's got enough sedative in him to knock out a small truck! The kid's a fighter, that's for sure! Good luck with him."

"Thanks."

"I think he dislocated my axle," the police officer on my right said.

The medic drove over to him. "Here. Let me take a look."

The police officer released his end of the wheel cuff. When he tried to put weight down on that wheel, he winced. The medic examined his axle.

"Yes, I'm afraid it has been dislocated. You'd better come with me to first aid."

"But… I can't leave this kid with just one officer," the police officer protested. "He's a high-risk escapee."

"I'll help your colleague," Adrian offered. "I don't think Monty's going to try escaping again. He'll probably sleep on the flight anyway."

Adrian was right. By the time we boarded the plane, I was struggling to stay awake. The medic had left Adrian with a syringe filled with a reverser drug, just in case the dose he'd given to me was too much. To avoid disrupting or worrying the rest of the passengers, we were given places at the back of the plane. I was placed in the parking bay closest to the plane's window, to ensure that I would have to ask Adrian if I needed to go to the toilet. I fell asleep before the plane had even begun to taxi.

I awoke about an hour and a half later to find myself still on the plane, flying towards Florida. I whimpered as I glanced around, taking in my surroundings.

"How are you feeling, Monty?" Adrian asked kindly when he saw that I was awake.

"Tired. How far are we from Florida?"

"About an hour. Just relax. Do you need a drink?"

"Yes, please. Ginger beer, if they have any."

Adrian waved down an airhostess, who kindly brought me a bottle of ginger beer. I sipped slowly on it, enjoying the bitter flavour.

"I'm sorry we had to sedate you," Adrian said, trying to start a conversation between us. "I was afraid you'd hurt yourself, or someone else."

"I'm sorry I panicked," I whispered. "I was scared to fly."

"Are you still scared?"

"No… I think I'm too drugged to be scared now."

Adrian chuckled softly. "Fair enough. Don't worry. We'll be landing soon."

"Will that other police officer be okay?"

"Who?"

"The police officer. The one that I accidentally hurt."

"As far as I know, he'll be okay. You're a lot stronger than you look. And your acceleration is pretty fast too."

"Four seconds when I really try," I replied shrugging.

Adrian gave me a bemused look, but he kept his thoughts to himself. I resumed sipping on my drink.

…

Several hours later, Adrian and the police officer escorted me, wheel-cuffed, between them down a quiet suburban street in Daytona Beach, Florida. The neighbourhood looked nice and respectable. It was certainly a vast improvement from previous foster homes I'd been in. We turned up a driveway near the end of the street. I shrank back nervously as Adrian rang the doorbell to the house. What was just a modern suburban house to most vehicles looked like a mansion to me. The house had two stories with a grand portico over the front door.

By the time the front door opened, I was almost hiding behind Adrian. A blue and yellow Hummer with logos and writing printed all over him, and a burgundy Nissan Skyline answered the door.

"Mr and Mrs Greenway?" Adrian inquired.

"Yes," the Hummer replied. "You must be Mr Towsky from the CPS."

"That's me."

"Please, come in."

Adrian and the police officer almost had to drag me inside the house. The Greenways escorted us into the lounge room. I was amazed to see that the floor was covered in cream carpet. Nobody else seemed to be concerned by that. They just parked around the coffee table in the centre of the room.

"Mr and Mrs Greenway, this is your new foster child, Montgomery McQueen. I've brought his file with me, so you'll at least have some idea of his history." Adrian reached inside his trunk with his claw arm to remove my file. He placed it down on the coffee table. "He's fourteen years old, and quite feisty. I'm sure you'll have your tyres full with him."

"We know what to expect," Mr Greenway replied confidently. He used his claw arm to open my file, so he could start reading it. "Montgomery will be our third foster child. I'm sure we can turn him around."

"Is there anything special we need to know about him?" Mrs Greenway asked.

"Monty has a history of being a runaway," Adrian answered. "That's why he's been brought here in wheel cuffs. He first started running away from school. His most recent escapade occurred a few weeks ago, when he ran away from his last foster home. He tried to escape from us earlier today before our flight, so we ended up having him sedated."

"He doesn't look sedated," Mr Greenway observed.

"He's a fighter. It took two doses to sedate him."

Mr Greenway whistled softly. "I know a few cars who are like that. Just for my own personal curiosity, what's his ancestry?"

"We don't know," Adrian replied. "He was abandoned by his mother at the hospital where he was born. Nobody has been able to trace her since."

Mr Greenway studied me closely. "Hmm… I can see some GT40 influence in him. And a bit of Dodge too. He'll grow up to be a nice little stock car."

Cringing, I tried to hide below the height of the coffee table. I had no idea why Mr Greenway was so intrigued by my ancestry, but it seemed creepy to me.

"Why don't I show Monty to his room while you gentlemen talk?" Mrs Greenway suggested.

"Good idea," Adrian agreed.

I breathed a small sigh of relief when I felt the wheel cuffs being removed from my wheels. I was too tired to think about trying another escape today, so I willingly followed Mrs Greenway up the ramp that led to the upstairs rooms.

"This will be your room," Mrs Greenway said as she opened the door at the end of the hallway. I followed her into the room. The room was painted white, with wooden floorboards and a large window in the far wall. I was surprised to see that the window had a security grill covering it. I immediately realised that it was there to keep me in, and not as a deterrent for robbers. Near the window was a bed made of a soft woollen mat and several blankets. The room also had a mirror and an air-conditioning unit.

"I hope you'll be comfortable," Mrs Greenway said. "You look tired, so try and have a nap. I'll come and get you when it's time for dinner."

"Thank you," I whispered.

Mrs Greenway smiled as she closed the door behind her. I settled down on the bed for my nap. It didn't take me long to drift off to sleep.

When I awoke, it was dusk. I stretched before I went in search of the bathroom. I found that it was in the room next to mine. After I'd taken care of myself, I drove onto the landing at the top of the ramp. When I peered through the bannister railings, I could see Mr and Mrs Greenway parked at the table in the kitchen, talking quietly together while Mrs Greenway cooked dinner.

"In many ways, I do feel sorry for him," Mrs Greenway was saying. "I mean, just imagine never knowing who your parents are, and you spend your whole life being moved from one foster home to another. Whoever had him as an infant did a good job raising him though. He at least knows good manners."

"I think the reason why he's taken to running away is because he has nothing to ground him," Mr Greenway mused. "There's nothing in his file about him having any hobbies or interests."

"We can ask him about that over dinner. It's almost ready, so I'd better go and wake him."

"I'll go," Mr Greenway offered. "You finish the meal, love."

I decided that I didn't want to be caught eavesdropping, so I darted back into my room and I closed the door. I parked on the mat and pretended to still be asleep. A moment later, I heard a soft knock on the door. I groaned, pretending to have just woken up. Mr Greenway opened the door.

"Monty? Dinner's ready."

I opened my eyes and stretched. "Coming."

Mr Greenway led the way downstairs to the kitchen, where Mrs Greenway was just finishing putting our dinner on the table. I hung back in the doorway until Mr Greenway gestured with his tyre for me to park at the table on his left.

"So, Monty," Mrs Greenway began as we started eating. "I think we should start as we mean to go on by laying down the ground rules."

I groaned internally. I knew to expect a new list of rules whenever I moved to a new foster home.

"First of all, we'd like you to address us as Aunt Sarah and Uncle Alan."

I looked up at her, surprised. Normally, my foster parents preferred it if I called them by their first name only.

Uncle Alan cleared his throat. "You need to know that you have to earn privileges in this house. Only good behaviour will be rewarded. Bad behaviour will result in privileges being removed from you. Privileges include use of the TV, computer and game consoles, as well as being able to earn pocket money, attend parties or stay up late. You also have a curfew of nine p.m., and you must be in bed with the lights off by ten p.m. every night. We will always ensure that you have access to good food, fuel and a warm bed, but access to anything else is entirely up to you."

"Why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself?" Aunt Sarah suggested.

"What do you want to know?"

"I'd like to know why you've earned a reputation for being a runaway. I can understand why you ran away from your last foster home, but why did you run away from school so many times?"

"Was it because you were bored?" Uncle Alan asked.

"Kind of…" I replied thoughtfully. "I didn't really understand most of it. My teachers didn't explain things well, and my foster parents rarely helped me with my homework. So, I never did it."

My new foster parents exchanged glances. Then, Uncle Alan looked sternly at me.

"That's going to stop right now. We've already enrolled you in a private school, which has a high level of security. You won't be able to run away from there, no matter how hard you try. However, if you behave yourself at school, we'll hire a private tutor to help you with your studies after school."

"We don't think you're stupid or anything like that," Aunt Sarah added quickly. "You've just been let down by the foster care system. It's not your fault at all, but you need to start growing up and taking responsibility for your own actions."

"Do you understand what we're saying?" Uncle Alan asked sternly.

I nodded. This couple were unlike any other foster parents I'd ever had. They were prepared to help me, providing I changed my ways. They were giving me the opportunity to have a completely fresh start.

"There is one more thing," Aunt Sarah said. "You'll have to get a new paint job before you start school. If we're going to give you a fresh start, you need to completely remove your 'bad boy' look. I'll take you to our body detailer tomorrow morning, so think about what colour you'd like."

I frowned thoughtfully. I'd been painted black for as long as I could remember, so I had no idea if any other colour would look good on me.

After we'd finished dinner, Aunt Sarah sent me upstairs to shower and go to bed. It wasn't late in the evening, but since I had nothing better to do, I obeyed.