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

Chapter 4 - Changes

When I awoke the following morning, I felt a bit disorientated at first. Then, I remembered where I was and what had happened to me the day before. I was in a new foster home far away from everything and everyone I knew.

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. "Monty?" Aunt Sarah called. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," I replied. I drove across the room and I opened the door. Aunt Sarah was parked in the hallway directly in front of the doorway. "Sorry if I overslept."

"No need to apologise. But this is the last time you'll be allowed to sleep in. Wash your face, and then come downstairs for breakfast."

I nodded before I drove into the bathroom. A few minutes later, I drove into the kitchen, where Aunt Sarah was just finishing serving up my breakfast for me. I parked at the same place at the table that I'd been at for dinner the night before. A can of oil had already been placed there for me, so I took a sip from it.

Aunt Sarah placed a plate of buttered pancakes down in front of me. "Alan has already left for work, so it's just the two of us here today. Normally, I'd be at work today too, but I knew you'd need someone around to help you settle in, so I took the day off work. Tomorrow, you'll go with Alan to work, and the day after that, you'll start school."

"Do I have to go to school?" I asked, pouting.

Instead of replying, Aunt Sarah cast me a stern glare. I dropped my gaze and I hastily began eating my pancakes. After a few moments of silence between us, I spoke up. "Am I still going to get a new coat of paint today?"

"Yes, you are."

"Oh. Because, I can't remember being any colour other than black."

"Don't worry. Our body detailer is fantastic. He'll be able to help you select a new colour."

Despite Aunt Sarah's assurances, I was a bundle of nerves by the time we arrived at the body detailer's shop. She introduced me to her body detailer; an Italian forklift named Tony, who would take care of my new paintjob.

"So, this is-a your new foster child, huh?" Tony asked Aunt Sarah as he drove around me. I could feel Tony's eyes studying every inch of my body. His scrutiny made me feel very self-conscious.

"Yes. He arrived here yesterday."

"I see. What-a colour did you-a have in mind for him?"

"Anything but black," Aunt Sarah replied firmly. "He said that he's never been any other colour, so if you could please pick out something that you think would suit him…"

"I will-a do my best!" Tony promised. He pointed to a colour chart on the wall across the room. "I'm-a thinking of something-a bright and bold! How about canary yellow?"

I grimaced and shook my front. "No! That's way too bright!"

Aunt Sarah nudged me. "Do you mind? Alan is half-painted that colour."

"I wouldn't be able to hide from the cops if I was that colour," I muttered.

Tony glanced at me again before he pointed to another colour on the chart. "What about periwinkle blue?"

"Ew! That's such a girly colour!" I protested. Seeing the perplexed frown on Tony's face, I drove closer to the colour chart. With a front tyre, I pointed to a bright shade of red. "I like that colour."

"Rosso corsa?" Tony said with surprise. "But-a…you're not Italian!"

I shrugged my tyres. "I don't care. I like that colour."

Tony glanced at Aunt Sarah. I didn't see her reaction because I had my rear facing towards her, but she must have approved of my choice, because Tony escorted me into the preparation room.

Because my black paint was in such terrible condition, Tony decided to remove it instead of painting over it. He covered my tyres with plastic before he set to work. It wasn't easy for me to stay still while he scraped off my old paint, but I managed it.

"Hmm…" Tony mused when he was halfway through removing my paint. "It-s seems that-a you weren't always black."

"Huh?"

Tony showed me some flakes of my old paint. Beneath the layer of black, there was a layer of glossy navy-blue plaint. I stared at it, stunned. Glossy paint was very expensive. Someone had obviously cared very much about me a long time ago.

"I…I don't remember ever being that colour."

"I suspect that-a you must have-a been that-a colour as a baby," Tony explained. "It doesn't-a cover your whole body, so you must have-a outgrown it."

Tony resumed his work, scraping the paint off me. I continued staring at the paint flakes as questions raced through my mind. Who picked that colour for me? Was it my first foster parents or was it someone at the hospital I'd been born at? I seriously doubt that it had been my mother. I was told that she'd abandoned me within hours of giving birth to me. I know that the last thing she would have been thinking about was what colour I should be.

Once Tony had finished removing my old paint from me, he started preparing the paint booth. I rolled over to the large mirror in the room, and I stared at myself. My bare metal skin gleamed under the room's spotlights. I sighed despondently as a haunting question leapt into my mind – Who am I? I know my mother named me, but since I have no idea who she is, or if she's even alive, maybe it's time for me to find a new identity? Aunt Sarah is right. It's time for me to ditch my bad-boy image and start over.

"Okay, Monty!" Tony called, startling me. I yelped as I jumped and spun around. Tony chuckled. "Sorry! Didn't-a mean to-a scare you."

"It's okay," I replied sheepishly. "I was already nervous."

"I don't-a see why?" Tony mused. I drove into the painting booth, and Tony closed the door. "Close-a your eyes, and-a relax!" he instructed.

I followed Tony's instructions as best I could. I focussed on my breathing to help me relax. Tony started spraying a pink undercoat on me. I was grateful that he'd thought to warm the paint.

It took about an hour for my new paintjob to be finished and dried. Tony ended the process by giving me a lovely wax and polish. I'd never had that treatment before, but I loved it. By the time Tony had finished, I was more relaxed than I could ever remember being. At Tony's invitation, Aunt Sarah drove into the room.

"Oh, that looks amazing on him!" she exclaimed with immediate approval. "You've out-done yourself again, Tony!"

Tony grinned. "I'm-a so glad you approve, madam. Now-a, would you-a like to-a pay today, or put it on-a your account?"

"I'll pay today," Aunt Sarah said. "I'll also pay off some of my account."

While Tony and Aunt Sarah went to the front of house to sort out payment, I rolled back over to the mirror. What I saw astonished me. I looked so completely different, that I doubted anyone I knew would recognise me.

…

Later that afternoon, Aunt Sarah and I were back home, after we'd spent most of the day shopping. I hadn't asked for anything for myself, since Aunt Sarah loved shopping in expensive places that I was almost too scared to enter. It made me wonder what my foster parents did for a living.

I timidly drove into the kitchen, where Aunt Sarah was clearing out the dishwasher. "May I help you with that?" I asked.

Aunt Sarah was so surprised, she almost dropped a plate. "Sure! Can you stack these plate in that cupboard, please?"

I started doing so. "Aunt Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"What do you and Uncle Alan do for work?"

"I'm a paediatrician at the Halifax Health Medical Centre."

"What's a paediatrician?"

"I'm a doctor who specialises in the care of children and teenagers."

Now it was my turn to almost drop a plate. "You…you're a doctor?" I was already starting to hyperventilate.

Aunt Sarah took the plate from my claw arm, and she placed it on the bench. "I know you're scared of doctors, Monty," she said gently. "It was in your file. And I don't blame you for being scared, considering how you were treated by doctors in the past. However, it's time for you to face your fears. I promise that, as far as your health goes, I won't do anything to you myself unless I have no other choice. I have my own personal physician who can take care of you too. Obviously, I'll keep an eye on your health, but I won't be the one to give you any vaccinations. I don't want you to be afraid of me."

My breathing had already started to slow down. Feeling my strength returning to me, I picked up the plate off the bench. "Thank you… I-I appreciate that. And, Uncle Alan?"

"He's a NASCAR official at Daytona Speedway."

CRASH!

I cringed when I saw the shattered plate shards scatter across the floor in front of me. "Sorry! I forgot I was holding that!"

To my surprise, Aunt Sarah burst into laughter. "It's okay, Monty. No harm done. Are you interested in NASCAR at all?"

"Interested? I f***ing love it!" I squealed.

"MONTGOMERY ALEXANDER MCQUEEN! DON'T YOU EVER USE THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN!"

At that precise moment, Uncle Alan arrived home. Hearing the commotion, he drove straight into the kitchen. "What happened?"

Tears pricked my eyes. Aunt Sarah's shouting had frightened me, leaving me shaken. I was fully expecting to be slapped or spanked. However, instead of doing either, Aunt Sarah took a deep breath to calm herself before she told her husband everything that had happened in the past few minutes. Uncle Alan was frowning sternly at me by the time she'd finished.

"I'm sorry I swore!" I squeaked in a panic. "It just…came out!"

"Go to your room, Monty," Uncle Alan said. "You'll stay there until I come for you."

Sobbing, I obeyed. I was tempted to slam the bedroom door closed, but I was more ashamed than angry. Things had been going so well for me today, and I'd just gone and ruined it. Feeling absolutely disgusted with myself, I flopped down on my chassis on my bed, and I let my tears flow.

About an hour later, I was still lying miserably on my bed, when I heard a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," I whispered just loudly enough to be heard. The door opened, and Uncle Alan entered my room. He closed the door behind him.

"You look good in that shade of red," Uncle Alan began. When I didn't react, he parked alongside me. "You seem to have done a good job beating yourself up, since you're obviously still moping."

"I didn't mean to swear…"

"So, you know it's wrong to swear?"

"I know I shouldn't do it in front of women…" I sighed despondently.

Uncle Alan chuckled. "In my line of work, I hear swearing a lot. Sarah's a real lady. She won't accept swearing from anyone, including me. Took about five years into our marriage for me to learn to leave my swearing at the track."

I finally looked up at him. "Are you really a NASCAR official?"

"Yes. Can't you tell from my paintwork?"

"I thought I'd seen it somewhere. Have you ever met any of the Piston Cup racers?"

"Often. I'm a review official at Daytona Speedway. My job is to review incident footage and apply appropriate punishments to the racers. I also attend post-race inquiries. It's not an easy job, because if you get it wrong, you become the scapegoat. I do enjoy it though. There's always something exciting happening."

"Do races happen around here a lot? Because, I thought the Piston Cup racers go all around the country?"

"The major series', like the Piston Cup, do. But there are a lot of smaller racing series that take place at the same track all year round. In fact, there's a vintage series race happening at Daytona Speedway tomorrow. I'll be happy to show you a lot more tomorrow, since you'll be spending the day with me there anyway."

"Really?" I squealed excitedly. I started bouncing up and down on my springs.

Uncle Alan frowned thoughtfully. "When did your voice start breaking?"

I settled down on my bed again. "What does that mean?"

"Your squeaky voice. When did that start?"

"I'm not really sure… I think it started when I was staying in the youth care home. Is something wrong with me?"

"No. It's just part of male adolescence. Your voice is starting to deepen. Try not to talk when you get excited. You don't want to strain your voice box by squeaking too much."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for. I'm just giving you advice. Now, since you've already apologised to Sarah for swearing, your punishment is over. Go and wash up for dinner. I'll see you downstairs."

Uncle Alan started to drive towards the doorway.

"Uncle Alan?"

He paused and turned to face me. "Yes?"

"Thanks for the chat. I've never been given the opportunity to have a fresh start, so I really want to do my best to change."

Smiling, Uncle Alan drove over to me, and he gently nudged my cheek with his front right tyre. "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I know that foster kids are rebellious because, deep down, they're hurting. You're different. You've never known the love that a real family can give you, so you've grown up exceptionally fast. Our task with you now is to teach you how to be a kid again, while you still have some of your childhood left."

I didn't know what to say in response to that, so I just nodded. My new foster parents were everything a child would ever want from their parents. However, their behaviour was so foreign to me, that I didn't know how to react. Still smiling, Uncle Alan left my room.