Chapter V: Sam and Mikaela
Owen roamed down the crowded halls of the school, which was beginning to empty by the second. The remainder of his school day was a mixture between mundane and dreary, as he spent most of his time trying to stay awake. He hardly had to worry though; his cassette player should have recorded all the lessons over his snoring and the sniggering of his fellow classmates. Hoisting his backpack higher up on his shoulder for the umpteenth time, Owen stepped aside to allow a girl to go by. Owen eyed the back of her, certainly unable to keep himself from appreciating the view from behind and the way her figure bounced with every step she took. With a sigh, he continued down the hall, fiddling with the edges of the envelope given to him by the school principal. Apparently, Mrs. Municipal didn't appreciate his "slacker attitude" and "lack of respect" for the authority figures, including herself. Owen begged to differ at that point; He had all the respect in the world for his authority figures, save the police and the meter maids.
For his rebuke, he ended up with the honor of delivering a letter detailing his less than satisfactory performance in school, to his mother. If the letter was not delivered to his mother by 5:00pm that afternoon, Mrs. Municipal would give Michelle a call personally. Owen was sorely tempted to kick his own ass for his error. Whatever was in the letter, his mother was sure to strangle him for fit. Stuffing the envelope into his back pocket, Owen made his way out of the school, he held fast to the railing as several people tried to shove him out of their way. Once he was off the stairs, he jogged across the parking lot exiting the school grounds with heavy sigh of relief. He was so intent on getting to his car that failed to notice the oncoming vehicle.
The yellow car came to a halt mere inches from his legs, Owen jumped back in alarm just as a head popped out from the drivers side. "Hey, watch where you walking buddy---" The words died on Sam Witwicky's lips when the young man looked up from the ground. His mouth opened and closed in shock, he ducked back inside his car with a shake intake of breath. Mikaela looked up from her magazine to Sam in concern. "Sam, you act like you just saw a Decepticon. What's wrong?" She laughed.
Sam scratched his face nervously. "Yeah, well, he might be one," He grumbled gripping the steering wheel. Mikaela glanced out the window in curiosity; standing in front of Bumblebee was none other than Owen Armstrong. Mikaela looked to Sam again, her eyebrow raising. "What has this kid done to deserve that?" She asked incredulously, trying not to laugh again.
Sam actually seemed to pause to think of a plausible answer, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Owen Armstrong wasn't unknown to have a short temperament, like Trent the jock. In fact, Owen was docile, but the one-time outburst of physical violence aimed towards the aforementioned jock and his friends had everyone thinking twice about crossing paths with Owen. Reportedly, Owen was given 50 hours of community service over Jail time, with some help from his mother who knew someone on the inside of the justice system. "Uh, he creamed Trent about a year ago, I think," Sam answered. Mikaela actually seemed to pause at this, she turned towards the windshield and spotted Owen standing in front of his car, fumbling with his keys. The vague memory of finding Trent and his friends in the nurses' office, being tended for injuries struck her.
"Him? Trent told me it was one of his friends," Mikaela said. Sam shrugged, "I'm just telling you what I heard," He answered. Mikaela huffed; Trent was never honest with her. Hoisting herself out the window she waved to him, Owen blinked a couple times in bewilderment before his door swung open and bumped him. Mikaela watched the boy stumble sideways, eye wide with surprise. "Hey, Owen, do you mind if I take a look at your car now?" She asked, hoping to distract him. Owen turned quickly to look at her, a quizzical expression on his face. He hadn't actually expected Mikaela to make good on her word, just making conversation with him. With a nod of his head Owen watched the girl retreat back inside the car, and stick her head out again. Her expression hesitant, she asked, "Is it alright if Sam helps out? He knows a few things about cars. Don't you, Sam?" The befuddled look on Sam's face said otherwise, but Owen obliged. Watching the two-step out of the car he eyed the Camaro. If he knew his cars, then Witwicky was driving a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro -- a car that wasn't supposed to be available until late 2008 at best. So what was he doing with it?
Turning his attention away from the Camaro, he spotted Mikaela running her hand across the surface of the hood; her fingers paused, poised upon the top of his hood ornament. She looked up at him, with curious look on her face. Shifting his gaze to the back, he spotted Sam thumbing the racing strips atop the hood. "Where did you get this?" She inquired. Owen frowned, the quizzical expression returning, closing his door he joined her at the front of the car and stared at the hood-ornament, which bore the exact same insignia branded into his steering wheel and grill where the cobra once was. Owen shrugged with a dismissive wave. "I dunno --- my car was fixed up in my absence," He answered. Mikaela raised an eyebrow at his response. "Absence?" Sam repeated, tilting his head.
Owen nodded his head again, this time unable to hide the irritating creeping up on him. "I was in a car accident. I just got out of rehabilitation a year ago and when I came home, my car was waiting in the driveway. My Mum said it was totaled, but whoever fixed it probably tagged my car like this," Owen explained, rubbing his thumb on the rough edges of the symbol when Mikaela removed her hand. Sam walked up to front, eyeing the windshield of the car suspiciously. Immediately he spotted the Autobot insignia on the steering wheel. "Really?" Sam said doubtfully.
"Yup, but I like them. I don't plan of getting them removed," Owen said, just as a loud pop resounded. Owen looked down at the hood of the car, realizing it had just opened. Mikaela's fingers the gripped edges of the hood and hoisted it above her head. Grabbing the stick prop, she placed it under the edge of the hood and leaned forward. Owen peered quizzically at his 5.4-liter, 32-valve V-8; It was the first time he had seen his engine in years, which reminded him to check the oil one of these days. It certainly wasn't the same engine he remembered being housed inside. In fact, it was the wrong kind of engine for this car. Who would put the wrong engine in his car? A lousy mechanic, Owen thought to himself in embarrassment, covering his face.
Mikaela shot a glance towards Sam when their new acquaintance wasn't looking, Sam nodded in silent agreement. Mikaela reached inside, checking all detachable components in and around the engine. There was nothing wrong with it, nothing explainable anyhow. Standing upright, she looked to Owen with a helpless shrug. "Well, aside from the oil change, there's nothing wrong your car internally. As for your door, I'd suggest getting it looked at, if it continues to open without cause," Mikaela explained. Owen's eyebrow half-raised in understanding, he hadn't expected her to find the cause of his car's problem. Maybe he did park it across the street after all.
"Well, thanks for your input," Owen extended his hand for equal measure, wiggling his fingers as she had earlier. Smiling, Mikaela took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Your welcome. Oh, wait, I don't think you've properly met my friend Sam, yet," Mikaela pulled the tall teen away from his door spinning him around to meet Sam. Sam eyed his girlfriend in question, his mouth going dry at the irritated expression Armstrong flashed Mikaela. "Sam this is Owen Armstrong, Owen this is Sam Witwicky," She said. The two stared at each other in question, wondering what the girl's angle was in the proper introduction to each other.
Mikaela raised her thumbs in support before retreating to the awaiting Camaro. "Mik-- Mikaela, what are you -- what you doing?" Sam stammered in protest, reaching out to grab Mikaela. She ducked his grabbing fingers with a laugh and jumped into the car through the driver's side. He turned to Owen with a nervous chuckle, his nerves falling him by the minute. Owen extended his hand out to the shorter boy first, putting on friendliest smile he could muster. "Hi, I'm Owen," He laughed. "Sam Witwicky, nice to meet you," Sam replied, shaking his hand.
"Same here," Owen added, his arm dropping to his side. The two stood there enshrouded in silence, unsure of what to say to each other beyond what Mikaela requested. Sam eyed the '67 Mustang curiously, wondering if he should tell Owen his car was a possible Autobot when the sound of the Camaro's radio coming to life beat him to the punch.
We were just wasting time
Let the hours roll by
Doing nothing for the fun
A little taste of the good life
Whether right or wrong
Makes us want to stay, stay, stay for awhile
Bumblebee's way telling his charge that he had a curfew to make good on. Running his hand across his face, he chuckled. "Well, um, I'll see you later, Owen," He said lamely. Owen made no promise to do the same, with a nod of the head he moved toward his open car door. Sam rushed over to his car as soon as Owen's car roared to life. The Mustang's roar drowned out Bumblebee's start-up without much trouble. Sam gave the hood of his car a slap as he climbed into the car, Bumblebee rolled back to allow the vehicle space to pull away from the curb. Mikaela and Sam watched as the Mustang came to a stop inches away from the grill of the Camaro and charged up the street at top speed, tire tracks left in its wake.
No more than a few minutes after the exit of the Cobra a sleek royal fuchsia Pontiac rolled out of its parking space and sped down the road after the other car. The Camaro started and headed down the stretch of road for a moment before making a turn. Sam eyed the dashboard of his car expectantly. The dials on the radio turned and Bumblebee spoke. "It would seem that Optimus' message has worked. We have comrades among us," The Autobot mused. Mikaela stared ahead of them watching the world fly by in a blur of colors and houses. "So, Owen's Mustang was an Autobot?" Sam inquired. Bumblebee turned another corner coming to a halt a red light, on their right a police cruiser ran through the light, sirens screaming. "Affirmative. As was the car that followed it," Bumblebee answered tentatively. Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise; It had barely been two months now and already more Transformers were arriving on earth; he prayed that no Decepticons arrived as well. "Did you recognize him?" He inquired. Bumblebee gave off low frequency hum as an answer. "Not the first one no, but the second was most likely Arcee," Bumblebee answered. The light turned green, Bumblebee continued onward toward the Banes residence, Sam removed his hands from the steering wheel to rest his throbbing muscles.
"Arcee?" Mikaela repeated, confused. "Yes, a transformer of unique design, the second and last of her kind, given how late she came into our world," Bumblebee explained. Sam's eyebrows raised again, he was impressed. "Why didn't they reveal themselves to us? I mean, not like you did us, but -- you know, through the radio communication or something?" Mikaela asked. "I'm not sure. But if she is following the Autobot under Owen's ownership, then we're sure to see her again," Bumblebee replied stoically.
(TBC)