A couple of days later, I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop in front of me. Sam was doing the dishes with a strange look on his face. I laid my head on the table with a sigh, deleting the last line I had typed. Between trying to write my novel and working from home, my brain was scrambled, and the stress of raising my brothers wasn't making things any easier.

I glanced at Sam, only to see a weird look on his face. He was leaning against the sink, staring out the window at the Camaro that was parked there until we could get it properly insured. I could see his unease grow as he stared. The change happened over the past week after bringing home the camaro. Sam's usual quiet nature, which was more of the relaxed type, had taken on a more tense, unsettled quality these past few days, replaced by a quiet unease that lingered around him. I watched him for a moment, wondering what was going on in his head. I couldn't blame him. Life had thrown a lot at us recently, and trying to balance everything was harder than ever.

"Sam," I called softly, breaking the silence. "You okay?"

He didn't respond right away, his gaze still fixed on the Camaro outside. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I swore I could feel the hum of something... alive whenever I was near it. I never said anything about it, so I wouldn't make the boys worried. Sam finally turned his head to look at me, squinting.

"Yeah, just... just thinking," he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to gather his thoughts. "Didn't we park the car on the left side of the driveway this morning after we dropped Liam off at school?"

I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on my elbows. "Yeah, why?"

He glanced back at the Camaro again, his fingers twitching slightly as if itching to go outside and check. His eyes flicked back to me, the corner of his mouth twitching into something close to a half-smile.

"I don't know. It's just... Maybe I'm going crazy," he admitted. "That car. It's been acting... different lately."

I closed my laptop. "You noticed it too?"

He shook his head, his expression turning serious. "I swear, sometimes it feels like it's watching me. Or listening." He gestured toward the window, toward the Camaro. "It's like it knows when I'm around. Like it's waiting for something."

A chill ran down my spine, but I tried to brush it off. I wasn't sure whether he was joking or if he was genuinely freaked out by the idea. Sam was never one to joke about this kind of thing.

After a minute or so, Sam shrugged. "Nah. We're just imagining things." With a laugh, he threw the dishtowel onto the counter.

"Maybe you need a girlfriend. Aren't you supposed to be a ladies' man?" I teased. I turned back to my closed laptop, feeling the weight of the unfinished novel and the clutter of my own stressed thoughts. "Well, just make sure it doesn't drive off on its own, alright? I don't think we need any more surprises."

Sam rolled his eyes at my mention of his eBay page that Liam had set up for him. He was trying to sell our great-grandfather's things from his research expedition. Poor old man fried his brain traveling to the Arctic Circle, talking about a "metal man" he supposedly found in the ice.

"Bite me," he muttered before heading to his room. I took one last glance out the window. Maybe I needed a date, because I could almost swear I felt something coming—and we weren't going to be able to stop it.

I groaned as my phone rang. Glancing at the clock beside my bed, I cursed under my breath. 3:47 AM. Someone had better be dead.

"What?" I snapped, irritation creeping into my voice.

"Ms. Wilkity?"

"Witwicky. You better have a damn good-"

"This is the Tranquility Police Department." I felt a wave of nausea hit me. "Do you know a Liam Witwicky?"

I slammed my bag on the floor, storming through the door. Liam slouched in behind me, arms crossed. My blood was boiling. He sat down on the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Oh. NOW you want to sleep?" I snapped. Looming over the back of the couch, I glared at him. "DO YOU HAVE ANY EXPLANATION FOR YOUR ACTIONS? You're 16, Liam, and you've been arrested. Do you understand the severity of this?"

"You don't unde—"

"UNDERSTAND?" My voice cracked. There had better be a better explanation for his stupidity.

"You drove your car after we explicitly told you not to. You left the house in the MIDDLE of the NIGHT. NO WORD. NOT A NOTE!" I paced, anger fueling my every step. "Then, you told the police your car STOOD up. STOOD. UP!" I turned, locking eyes with my youngest brother. Sam had slipped down the stairs, gaze flicking between Liam and me. Liam wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. I rubbed my eyes, feeling the tears well up. God, this whole situation was a nightmare.

"It did!"

"Cars don't just stand up, Liam." I cut him off, voice low. "Just tell me the truth."

Sam sat on the chair next to Liam, still in the dark about what was happening. I could feel my throat tightening, the sting of tears burning. "Were you drinking?" I asked, though it felt wrong to even suggest it.

Liam shook his head.

"Dr-drugs?" I hesitated. Liam shot his head up, eyes wide in shock. He looked hurt by the suggestion, and I couldn't blame him. But what could possibly drive my brother, who had never been in trouble before, to sneak out of the house and get arrested?

Sam finally spoke up, cutting through the tension.

"Alright," he waved his hands, trying to calm the situation. "We're not solving anything when we're all sleep-deprived. Liam, are you okay?"

Liam nodded before storming off to his room, leaving the house eerily quiet.

"I can't believe he was arrested," I muttered, still reeling.

"We'll get the full story tomorrow," Sam replied, his voice soft. "Don't stress about it right now."

The sound of Liam's door slamming shut echoed through the house, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, my mind racing. Was he telling the truth about the car? I couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was happening, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Cars didn't stand up. It was insane. Yet, the way he said it... like he truly believed it.

Sam sighed behind me, and I turned to see him running a hand through his messy hair. "This isn't like Liam," he said quietly, almost as if trying to convince himself. "He's always been responsible."

"Yeah," I muttered, walking over to the kitchen counter and leaning against it. I needed a moment to clear my head. "But people change, Sam. Especially when they start messing around with... things they don't understand."

Sam didn't respond right away, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. But I couldn't look back at him. My head was pounding. The stress, the worry, the confusion—it was all too much.