CHAPTER TWO
Sam I Am!
"Okay, might be a pop quiz tomorrow and might not! Sleep in fear tonight, people." The teacher said, as the class filed out of the room.
Mikeala Banes, a beautiful sixteen year old with dark hair and amazing green eyes, followed her jock-boyfriend Trent DeMarco out of the room, not bothering to look at the brown-haired boy who waited back.
Samuel James Witwicky stepped eagerly up to the teacher's desk.
"Okay," He said, with a big grin. "Pretty good, right?" He was talking about the presentation he'd just made, the one that would either make or break his life.
The teacher regarded him, and then said: "Uh, I'd say a solid...B minus."
Sam's face fell, and his heart began to race in a mixture of total disbelief - and utter panic. "A B minus?" He repeated.
"You were hawking your great-grandfather's crap in my classroom." The teacher reminded him.
"Loook, kids enj..." Sam decided to change his tactics. "Look, can you do me a favour? Can you look out the window for a sec?"
The teacher did so, sighing.
"You see my father?" Sam went on. "He's the guy in the green car?"
"Yeah?"
"K, I wanna tell you about a dream. A boy's dream, and a man's promise to that boy. He looked him in the eye, and said: 'Son, I'm gonna buy you a car. But I want you to bring me one thousand dollars and three A's. K, I got the one thousand, and I got two A's. Okay, here's the dream," Sam held up his hands, indicating the dream.
The teacher just rolled his eyes.
"Your B minus?" The 'dream' exploded. "Dream gone, kaput. Not only that," Sam added. "But the boy will be killed by his twin sister, because it's gonna be her car too. Sir, just ask yourself - what would Jesus do?"
*
"Yes!" Sam cheered, running towards the car and getting in.
"So?" His father, Ronald Witwicky, asked him.
"An A minus, but it's an A!" Sam said excitedly.
"Wait wait wait, I can't see..." Ron peered at the grade atop the sheet, just as a second figure came running towards the car. "It's an A."
"So I'm good?" Sam asked.
"You're good." Ron agreed, as a small, brown-haired girl jumped into the back of the green convertible.
"Well?" She asked, her hazel eyes alight with anticipation, but she was glaring at Sam' back, clearly thinking: If you screwed up, I will kill you. She had gotten her A's and one thousand dollars a few days ago. Her name was Samantha Jane Witwicky, and she was Sam's twin sister, older by about three minutes. She had inherited much of their mother's temper - a fact which her brother knew only too well.
"I got the A!" Sam said, as much in relief as he ewas in excitement.
"Excellent!" Samantha exclaimed, just as excitedly. "Let's go!"
*
"Seriously," Sam said, as they drove down the road. "Do you know what this could do to my social life?"
"Uh...start it?" Samantha guessed, and Ron reached back to give her a high-five.
Yes, Samantha had inherited her father's wry sense of humor, too.
"Ha ha." Sam said sarcastically, as Ron drove the green convertible into the Porche car dealership, and the twins yelped.
Ron kept right on driving, of course, and told the twins that they weren't getting a Porche.
"That's not funny Dad." Sam complained.
"Not funny at all." Samantha agreed.
Ron just laughed.
Sam and Samantha exchanged a glance.