A/N: Okay, I just want to clarify something guys. A Whole New World is literally just fine, it will be finished. I have all the ideas for the last four chapters, I have a ton of muse, it's not even close to being dead. Executing it is just giving me a hard time, and I needed a breather before I rip my hair out in frustration. So don't worry, it'll be back and soon, I just need a few days with my mind away from it before I go back and try again. :) So you probably won't even have to wait that long at all.

Moving on, I decided to get the first chapter of this written before I write my next chapter of A Matter of Fate. Just to leave this on a more starting-off point than the semi-teaser that was last chapter. Expect Chapter 49 of that to be the next update I make after this one. :)

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CHAPTER 1
Troubling Issues

"Boy, what the hell are you thinking?"

Trevor Ridley cringed at the harsh voice that greeted him as he entered his father's auto repair shop. If there was one thing about his father, it was the fact that despite his loving, soft nature, he had a temper you wanted to fear. The boy sighed as he pushed the Camaro the rest of the way into the garage, and stopped, looking up at the man. Joseph Ridley was tall and stocky, with dull blue eye, and brown hair. The father and son may not have looked much alike, especially considering Joseph was ripped, but it was immediately obvious who this man was to Bumblebee all the same. "Dad," Trevor began, holding his hands up. "Before you explode on me, just hear me out."

"I'm this close to bankruptcy, Trev. You can't be buying this," Joseph motioned to Bumblebee with a look of utter confusion. "Is she a '77? For God's sake, kid, this had to have cost you somewhere around five grand-?"

"Twenty-five dollars," Trevor retorted, his eyes meeting his father's. "Every last penny I earned from doing my odd jobs. They were gonna scrap it down at Chet's, but I saved it," He grinned a little, his eyes lighting up at the man. "I was thinking I could clean it up, give it a fresh paint job," Joseph circled around the Autobot unsuspectingly. "He's not much, but this is it, dad. My first car."

Joseph patted the hood slightly, his eyes looking down at his son. "Kiddo, Camaro parts are hard to find," Joseph replied, he shook his head. "We can keep it here if you really want to try. But I can't make any promises," He replied, his eyes locking with the disappointed ones of Trevor. "Trev, I know you don't get it. You're only fifteen, you can't possibly understand." He paused a long moment. "But some day, I'm not going to be here to support you even with what little money I make. So we need to save what money we have."

Trevor looked sadly at the Comaro, kicking one of its wheels slightly. His father approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and pulling him in to a hug. Neither seemed to notice as the side-view mirror moved for a better look at the two. "I just thought, I don't know," Trevor looked up at him. "It felt like this one was special dad, like it was... Different," He watched it carefully. "Maybe we could turn it into a racer, you could teach me just like-."

"No," Joseph replied, a firmness beyond words in his eyes. "It's bad enough we have one set of medical bills to pay for," He replied, his voice going a little hoarse. "What with your mother and all," He said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not letting you in that death trap of a sport, over my dead body." He then added, pointing slightly. "Please tell me you didn't break your leg pulling that thing. I don't have the money to afford a new one."

As Trevor sat on the stool, Bumblebee's interest only peeked. Quickly, he rolled up the left leg of his jeans and revealed a prosthetic, much to his surprise. Did humans not come born with two legs? Had he been born without two legs? Did he get it amputated as the web search he made suggested? "It's all there in one piece, dad," Trevor replied, patting the mechanical leg for emphasis. "Come on, I'm tough, no stupid car is going to break me."

"I just want you to be careful," Joseph replied. "That's all I'm asking." A ringing quickly got his attention. "Crap, that's my four o'clock hoping to get his bug," He muttered under his breath, turning to Trevor. "See just how bad what we're working with is, we can talk about this later."

Trevor sighed, turning back to the Camaro, which he gave a quiet look over. He still couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about this car. Like an unknown force that seemed to ooze from it. "Yeah, well," Trevor began to speak. "Dad doesn't know everything. I bet if I could make you into a racer, I could enter you. We could make a ton of money..."

After a moment, the boy frowned, and shook his head. "Who am I kidding? Who's gonna put a kid with one leg behind the wheel?" Trevor muttered under his breath as he rolled down his jeans slowly. "I'm just crazy, heck, I'm even talking to a car for the second time today," He laughed at himself as he carefully lifted up the hood. "Chrome, nice... Somebody really did a bang-up job making you into something of a speed demon, didn't they?" He then muttered quietly. "Why not fix you up then too?"

"Trev! I need your help over here!"

"Alright, coming," Trevor shouted, giving one last look at the odd engine before rushing off.

As Bumblebee watched his new young owner jog off, he couldn't help but wonder. What would he think if he simply went missing the next day? He'd probably report it stolen, the police would be out searching for him. Both of which he couldn't let happen, not now anyway. For now, he would lay low, and pretend to be the boy's car. At least until he could figure out what was happening. After all, at this point, he was just glad not to be scrap metal.

...

"So, how'd it go?"

Trevor's friend, Sam Witwicky, didn't look very happy at the question. It was later in the day, and he'd dropped by his house on the way from the garage. Even though Sam was getting his car that day too, he could only guess it either: a) didn't happen, or b) went terribly. "He got me a Fiesta," Sam stated with all the frustration that was plastered on his face. "With racing stripes. We had to beg this crackpot dealer named Bobby Bolivia to even let us in though. Something about us being bad luck, probably am. All the windows in the place got smashed, so I can't even drive my car yet."

"So, the lake is a no-go then?" Sam shook his head in disappointment. "Don't worry, dude. Miles is right, Mikaela's mostly an evil jock concubine anyway." That one seemed to earn a small grin from his friend. "If it helps, I got a twenty-five dollar sports car that my dad can't afford parts for. So we're both kinda screwed at the moment."

Sam frowned slightly, that didn't sound too good at all. He crossed his arms, and stepped out of the doorway. "Things are still that bad at the garage?" Trevor shrugged a little at Sam's question. "You know, my dad could help. We got that huge inheritance from Grandpa Witwicky. I bet he'd be willing to dip into it for you guys..."

"You guys already help with mom and the leukemia treatment," Trevor shook his head. "You know that dad is never going to go for that. He'd rather go bankrupt then accept more help," Sam's frown deepened, but finally nodded. "So a Fiesta, huh?" Sam nodded. "That totally will get the girls going crazy man, they love racing stripes..."

Before Sam was able to reply to the gentle jest of a comment, Trevor heard a shout. Jumping out of his skin, he turned around to see the last person either of them needed to see. Trent Demarco was the king of Tranquility High School, and by far, his dad was his father's biggest rival when it came to car repairs. "Hey Ridley!" Trevor quickly hid himself as the nice, and brand spanking new, truck drove up. "What's the matter? Daddy not get enough work that he even needs any help?"

Trevor turned to stare at Trent, who was leaning out the driver's seat window. He wanted to beat his football sized head to a bloody pulp most days, he really did. But the tall and mean quarterback was big enough to take down five kids his size. "Trent, get lost," Trevor grunted. "I'm not in the mood, and I really don't feel like getting chewed out by my dad for making you cry again."

The kids in the backseat of Trent's car snickered while Trent's face seemed to turn bright red. For a moment, Trent looked ready to get out and start a fight. But when he didn't, Trevor noticed why. He had never been more relieved to see Ron Witwicky in the doorway before, but today, he was beyond relieved. "Well, hello, Mr. Demarcco," Ron greeted with a smirk. "That's a nice car you got there, funny too," He began. "I thought I heard from your father you had your license revoked for drunk driving?"

"I-Well-Uh..."

"Should be going," Ron told him in a deadpan. "Before I give your dad a call and let him know."

With a glare that said "This isn't over", Trent was flooring the gas and driving off. Trevor sighed in relief, turning to Ron with a grin. "Thanks, Mr. Witwicky, that was awesome." He replied, a grin widening.

"Eh, Trent's a punk. He deserves it." Ron shrugged. "You wanna come in, Trev? We just finished laying our new path, and we're making lemonade." He explained, motioning inside the house.

Trevor gave it a thought, but shook his head politely. "No thanks, Mr. Witwicky. I'm gonna get home and check on mom," He told him, his eyes moving towards the way he came. "I was just seeing if Sam was ready for the lake, but clearly that isn't happening."

"Alright, tell Marie I said hi."

As Ron disappeared back into the house, Sam looked at him. "So, what did you get for a car?" Trevor frowned a little at that. "Come on, I told you about my piece of crap that I can't even drive. I think it's only fair you do the same." That made Trevor laugh a little. "What is it? A Prius? Please don't tell me you went and bought something without an engine..."

As Trevor started down the steps, he shakes his head. "A Camaro," He replied finally. "Yellow, with black racing stripes, it's a '77..." The look on Sam's face quickly got his attention. "Why do you look like you've just swallowed something nasty?" He asked.

"Nothing," Sam replied, though Trevor could tell he was lying. "Coincidence is all, I guess," He shrugged it off, though Trevor could tell he was a little weirded out. "Look, I'll call you tomorrow and we'll do something. I have to get back to Ebay."

"Right, "hocking your grandfather's crap"." Trevor laughed a little. "Good luck, LadiesMan." He teased.

"Catch you later."

As Trevor started down the sidewalk and away from the home, he could still tell that Sam was spooked. Though how, and why, he couldn't be too sure. He had a sinking suspicion he would soon find out.