A story not often told
Chapter 5: The weakest link
"So the chemicals will eventually form…" started the teacher.
"The energy substance that power most of the buildings and machinery," Perceptor finished with yawn.
The teacher grumbled, looking back at the data pad. Perceptor, sitting in the third new homeroom he was given, was bored with the lesson. The teacher was equally as thrilled with him. Even at his young age, he was placed at such a high grade that still made him bored.
"Sir…please stop interrupting me!" ordered the teacher.
"If your lessons were more interesting then I wouldn't finish your sentences," shrugged Perceptor.
"Leave! Now!" ordered the teacher.
Perceptor sighed. Fourth time in a row. He got up from his seat and left the room. He moved down the halls. Passing each room he heard voices. He sighed. He saw no point in these schools. He was also annoyed by how much he knew. He only read that whole library. It wasn't much, right.
Crash! Boom! Perceptor jumped, falling backward slightly. He looked around. Nothing was on fire. Nothing that he could see. Finally he saw smoke coming from another room. Perceptor moved to the room. He opened the door, smoke pouring out.
"Oops…" a voice whispered.
"Oops?" questioned Pereptor.
"Who's there!?" gasped the voice.
"New student…Perceptor," explained Perceptor happily.
After the smoke cleared, Perceptor caught a glimpse of the person inside. Another child the same age as him but he was covered in soot. He was pushing off the soot slowly, looking over at Perceptor.
"Whatcha need?" the other bot nodded.
"What happened?" Perceptor gasped.
"Oh…I blew up my project yet again," the bot answered, "Names Wheeljack."
"Well Wheeljack, what were you working on?" Perceptor asked, lifting up one of the metals. It fell to pieces in his hands. He gasped.
"People say I have a…explosive touch," nodded Wheeljack.
Wheeljack was white like Ratchet. He had black and green hints here and there. He had a face guard with small fins sticking out the side that glowed with the words he said. Perceptor shook his head, watching Wheeljack trying to piece things together.
"I think you'd have a better chance by placing these pieces here," nodded Perceptor, placing two different pieces in his hands.
"Thanks!" cheered Wheeljack.
"Perceptor?"
Perceptor and Wheeljack turned to see Ratchet in the doorway. Ratchet looked very upset. Perceptor could see that he wasn't supposed to be talking to Wheeljack. He didn't understand that. Ratchet frowned and stormed in.
"Oh…Hi, Ratchet," groaned Wheeljack.
"Come on Perceptor," ordered Ratchet.
"Why? I was going to help Wheeljack with his project," explained Perceptor.
"You were!?" gasped Wheeljack and Ratchet.
"Yeah. I think this could work with some help…if I knew what it was," chuckled Perceptor.
"A cloaking devise," added Wheeljack.
"Are you serious? Wheeljack is in the lower class! You can't hang with him if you want your status to stay as new student," grumbled Ratchet.
"He's right. I'm not very popular…got no friends," sighed Wheeljack.
"Then I'll be the first!" announced Perceptor. The two gave him weird looks.
"No way," whispered Wheeljack.
"If I've learned anything from the past few days is that there are reasons things happen. I think what I've gone through led to this," nodded Perceptor.
"How can anything lead to befriending a lower class?" huffed Ratchet.
"Don't tell me what leads to this! I've lost my guardian and the only friend I've ever known!" shouted Perceptor, storming out.
He found himself on the roof. He was lying on his back. He felt ashamed for yelling and losing his temper the way he had. He closed his optics. Everything happened for something right, he thought. No, he corrected himself. There had to be a logical sense to everything, he thought with a sigh. He still had that creeping thought that haunted him. the face of his old teacher while she died.