Zoe's POV

Chapter Three – Her Ironhide

"Zoe!" A high, shrill voice called out dramatically as said teen did another cart wheel on a one and a half inch beam.

"Miranda Lune! You know better than to interrupt my girls during their training!" Miss Velour snapped angrily whilst Zoe and the rest of the gymnasts shared identical smiles of mirth.

"Yes miss. I know miss." Miranda hurried in trying to appease the gymnast coach at the studio that Zoe had been training under for the last six years. "It's just that…"

"No buts." Miss Velour scolded in a gruff manner. Zoe looked towards the door from where she and several other girls her age stood on thin beams before the wall of mirrors. Miss Velour, dressed in her tracksuit bottoms and slippers as always, was waving her instructing cane in Miranda's face, whose already thin lips were pursed tightly together in frustration. "Zoe has ten more minutes of her training for today and then you can drag her wherever your adventurous heart desires. For now, though, she is mine. Shoo!"

Zoe chuckled as she watched her friend get shoved non-too-lightly out of the studio.

...

Twenty minutes later Zoe emerged from the studio in her own clothes with a large bag swung over her shoulder, her light brown almost blonde hair swinging free from its tight bun over her pale blue grey eyes.

Giving a small yawn Zoe pushed her bag into the passenger seat and sat on the Topkicks bonnet, her feet swinging over the large grill. She yawned lightly and waited for Miranda to find her.

Miranda had been missing for a week as she had been ill. Zoe knew better and blamed it on the 'all nighter' she had at Sarah Millers house where she had got herself so plastered she woke up in a shopping trolley in a ditch without the slightest idea how she got there.

"Zoe! Over here Zoe!" Opening her eyes, Zoe sat up just in time to see Miranda practically skip over to her truck. Sliding off the hood and stumbling a little as she regained her footing, Zoe met her friend with a hug.

A gasp from Miranda made Zoe pull away and grin manically at her shorter friend.

"Wow." Miranda said simply, her jaw dropping as she stared passed Zoe.

Laughing proudly Zoe, patted the Topkick and replied "Told you I'd get a truck."

Miranda shot Zoe a look before returning her gaze to the GMC. "This isn't a truck babes, this is a freaking monster! This looks like it could Sting for breakfast!"

"Yeah, Sting has nothing on my baby." Zoe countered, watching her friend circle the truck.

"Can you drive me home, oh Zoe please? I'll love you forever!" Miranda begged, running up to Zoe, grabbing her hands and giving her the puppy eyes look.

Zoe laughed and replied "Fine, but no shoes on the leather."

Squealing like a piglet, Miranda ran to the side of the Topkick and pulled at the handle.

Only when Zoe was seated and sliding the seatbelt over her slim frame did she realize her friend's predicament.

"Sorry," She called, leaning across and opening the door. "I thought I opened it!"

Miranda waved it off, leapt into the passenger seat, pulled the seatbelt over her and peered around the truck, grinning like a possessed child.

A week since she had bought the Topkick and already Zoe had begun to think that maybe she had not bought an entirely normal truck. It had begun when she was driving it home, following her parents in their ancient 1994 Mercedes-Benz. Zoe was surprised – and nervous – about driving the massive Topkick but found it surprisingly nimble and easy to drive. It seemed to dwarf Hummers and other cars Zoe had once thought were huge easily but still maintained a proud look about it.

She had been so careful not to bump into her parents or other vehicles she did not notice the out of control Ford skid jaggedly across from behind, heading straight into the side of the Topkick. In a matter of moments the car had swerved into the place the truck had been not seconds before. Zoe could not believe it; her truck had actually braked to avoid the Ford but then sped up to stop the car behind from crashing into its rear. She certain it had not been her who had acted; she simply did not have time.

Since then Zoe had kept a careful tally of everything that her Topkick had been doing oddly. The headlights would suddenly flicker on and off if she tripped in the parking lot or if she had parked in the dark and felt disoriented. The seatbelts refused to come unhinged as they slowed to a stop, instead only snapping open once the car had been shifted into park. Zoe may have been a stranger to America but she knew that it was not a feature found in even newer cars. The seat would also warm or cool sporadically, as if trying to regulate her body temperature. But when she looked for a possible add-in for seat heating she found nothing.

Zoe was also discovered that her Topkick was not a morning person - truck. If she started the engine before 7.45am then it would be unresponsive and it would take her much pleading and flattery to make it open the door should she wish to start the engine before 7.30am.

Despite the weirdness and sometimes scary traits her Topkick seemed to posses, she adored it completely.

She spent much of her time after school or after gymnastics simply driving to the beach, getting an ice-cream and simply sitting on its hood watching the sunset or taking photographs of the sea. She also had to spend a lot of her time cleaning the damn thing.

Despite its amazingly piercing black colour, it was dirtied easily and Zoe felt compelled to clean it at least once every three or four days. The truck never seemed to be low on gas either, at first she thought the metre was broken but it turned out that she had simply bought a truck able to run perfectly on little if no fossil fuels. It also seemed to miss her; when she opened the door at parking in the school car park (parking lot damn it, was she ever going to remember?) at the start of the day it seemed heavy and reluctant but when she opened it in the afternoon when the end of school bell went, it was swing open a millisecond before she even touched the handle.

Zoe also felt in need of giving it a name. She had said a few names aloud whilst cleaning it but the headlights would flash, clearly disagreeing.

Despite her best efforts she could not come up with a suitable name, trying very thing from Tiny to Herbie.

In the end she had thrown a sponge at it in annoyance saying, "Sheesh, you have a will of iron don't you?" Putting her hands on her hips she glared at the grill of the Topkick.

At that the headlights had flickered repeatedly. Confused, Zoe cocked her head and repeated "Iron?"

The headlights burst into life and stayed on for a few seconds before fading.

Still confused Zoe tried "Iron... will?"

This time the engine actually revved and the truck inched slowly forward. Shocked and terrified Zoe stared bug eyed as it made its way slowly towards her. It nudged her slightly making her gasp and then made her jump in alarm as it shot backwards into the flowerbed behind it.

Swearing like a marine, Zoe ran and inspected the damage of both Claire's flowers and her possessed truck. There was no visible mark of damage on her truck but the same could not be said for the bed which had been completely crushed. Shaking her head, Zoe glanced once more at the Topkick and reread the licence plate as she did so.

"981-H1D3" She read aloud.

"H1D3" She repeated, the word rolling off her tongue. Suddenly she gasped and ran to the front of the Topkick and said loudly "Ironhide."

The headlights flickered on and off dazzling her a moment by their brightness but she laughed and leant against the grill staring at the windshield, her head resting on her hand as the other patted the bonnet.

"If you can move on your own, destroy Claire's flowers and turn on your lights by yourself, why didn't you justtell me your name?" Zoe asked, grinning as she repeated the name in her head. Ironhide...

The engine purred gently and the grill warmed unexpectedly, making the teen smile happily.

"Well Ironhide, we really need to work on your people skills."