A/N
Hello, everybody! As I'm sure half of y'all know, this is a remake of the original fic "More Than Meets the Eye". And for those that don't know, then welcome to the first official chapter of the new and improved "Prime Karma". I hope y'all enjoy this revamp. It's very different from the original version, but it kept the same concept as well. Enjoy :)
Karma was in the headmaster's office yet again. She would say it wasn't her fault (because it totally wasn't, duh), and yet, here she was. See, the seventeen year old had a reputation of sorts at her high school. She tried not to start fights, but she didn't mind ending them. Besides, the fights found her, what was she supposed to do?
The teen sat in a plush chair, listening to music on her phone while her uncle spoke with the headmaster, trying to plead her case. It wasn't looking too good for her. It was close to the fifth time or so that Karma had been brought to the headmaster's office within a couple of days.
She had always been like this. Getting into fights and ending them just as quickly. Karma supposed it started when her parents realized they couldn't control her like they oh so desperately wanted to. They had given her up into the foster system, and everyone knew just how shitty that system could be. Karma was living proof of that. That's when the "bad behavior" started. Sure, she never started the fights, but they always ended the same. Her fists split and the other kid on the ground, bruises and cuts littering her frame. Hence the multitude of scars the girl had.
Her aunt and uncle, Ron and Judy, had ended up taking her in. They had been having troubles for a while, trying to have another kid after their first son, Sam, but they never got past the first trimester. So, when word got out that Karma had been practically abandoned by Judy's sister, they went at the first opportunity they got and "adopted" her. .
The Mistress of the foster system had tried to talk the adults out of their original choice, but they were already very much aware of everything the young girl had gone through to lead to her being there in the first place. They were the ones to save Karma from the hell that her parents had left her to, and she would be forever grateful for that.
But, the fighting didn't stop. Karma continued to gather different wounds, even after she left the foster system and was given a much better home. The other kids in her class seemed to love to pick on her. Sooner or later, the bullies learned to stop messing with the kid, but then a fresh wave of insolent children came and it started all over again.
The Witwickey's had tried to put an end to it, but whatever they tried never seemed to stick. They went to the principals and headmasters of so many different schools, but it all ended the same. The children would get a stern talking to, sometimes a punishment, but would go right back to the behavior until Karma was forced to sort them out herself. And then she was the one getting in the most trouble. Which just brought everything back to how it was going now.
With Ron walking out of the headmaster's office and Karma soon following after him.
Neither of them spoke until they got back to the Witwicky's house. The teen already knew what her aunt and uncle were gonna say, so she decided to make herself something to eat and grabbed a bottle of coke before making herself comfortable on the couch.
Judy was the one to speak first. "Karma, we've told you thousands of times that you can't just resort to participating in the fist-fight when someone tries to fight you. You've been kicked outta too many schools to keep doing this. We're running out of options, hun."
Karma leaned further into the couch, slightly guilty. She crossed her arms and huffed stubbornly. The teen knew that her aunt and uncle were just trying to help, but sometimes they made everything worse. The way Judy was talking to her made her angry. It was always how her parents would talk to her. Always using that same damned belittling tone, like she was some small child to be scolded.
"And I'm aware of that, Judy. You've said it so many times that I think it's ingrained into my mind. You know as well as I do that half of these fights are because somebody feels the need to prove their mettle and they pick on the only person who's got the scars that say they've fought. I have tried it your way, but it never works for me. Someone always ends up testing their luck with me, and then I'm the one being sent to a principal or headmaster, and y'all are the ones being punished and forced to move schools.
"These fights are just part of who I am. It's always been this way for me, and both of you are more than aware of that. The Mistress of the foster center made sure of it. I have been taught that I gotta fight to survive. Nobody was there for me at that hell hole, so I had to learn to fight for myself, and that ended up meaning I had to spill blood. I grew up like that, and nothing's gonna change that. No matter how much you try to change me, it's not gonna happen. And I'm sorry for that. Really."
Scowling, Karma gets up and walks to her room. She had a feeling that if she had stayed down there any longer, someone would've blown a gasket, and it would've been her.
Karma's just about to flop onto her bed when her phone buzzes from her back pocket. She almost doesn't pull it out to see who it was, frustrated beyond belief, but she does anyway. The only people who would text her are her aunt and uncle and Sam, and the first two were in the house with her, having no need to use their phones to talk to her.
Party at the lake tonight. Also getting my car. Wanna come with? -S
Karma thinks for a moment. Go to a party and get her mind off the shit show that the day had become, or spend the rest of her night in the frustration of her own thoughts? It was a no brainer.
I'll be there. Fair warning, though, I'm not in the best of moods, and I swear, if that moron, Miles, hits on me, someone will bleed. -K
The only thing Sam sends in return is a thumbs up emoji. Sighing, Karma stretches before grabbing a change of clothes from her dresser and closet, heading to the bathroom to take a nice hot shower. Besides, she needed to wash her hair and the dried blood from her body.
An hour later, Karma was dressed in a gray T-shirt under a red zip-up hoodie with dark blue, baggy jeans. She had taken the time to dry her long red hair and carefully tie it into a braid that rested down her back, her bangs hanging in front of her blue eyes. The teen was quick to tie her black converse and grabbed her messenger bag before walking out to Ron's car. She got in the backseat without a word, tensions still slightly high after that morning.
The drive to Sam's school wasn't a far one, and they got there a couple of minutes before the bell rang. The boy came running out with a large grin on his face, holding a piece of paper tightly in his hand. That had been one of the agreements Ron had set for Sam to get a car. That and two-thousand in cash to help pay for the vehicle. Karma was lucky in that aspect, she supposed. A friend of hers from the foster center had given her a used motorcycle and taught her to ride when she was fifteen.
Sam was quick to hand the paper to his father. "It's an A-, but that's still technically an A, rights?" The teen looks at Karma, who gives him a slight nod.
"Hold on, lemme see it." Ron hums slightly, probably to put his son on edge. Karma hits him lightly. "Yup, that's an A to me. You're good."
The teen cheers, quickly getting into the car's front seat. Karma ruffles his hair slightly, laughing when he hisses and lightly slaps her hand away. The girl tunes everything else out on the ride over to the dealership.
When they get to the dealership, Sam complaining about Ron driving by the Porsche dealership, Karma looks around, her mechanic brain immediately looking for the best car from the run-down place. A yellow car pulls in when her head is turned, coming to a stop near a yellow Beetle when her eyes pass through a second time.
Karma is quick to move over to the better side of the dealership, looking over every car, dismissing the ones that are downright bad. Her eyes catch onto a 1976 yellow Chevy Camaro with black racing stripes that run across its hood, down to its trunk. The teen takes a lap around the car, looking at the body damage, wheels, and exhaust pipe. She wasn't really in a place to look at the undercarriage, so this would have to do.
She popped the hood of the car and looked at the engine and surrounding parts. Strange. A car this old shouldn't have an engine like the 6.2L LT1 V8 double pump. Not unless someone had worked on this car before it was brought into the used car lot. Karma looked inside the car, pulling open the driver side door.
The inside was nice enough for the year it was. Not too dirty, but it didn't look perfect. The seats appeared to be faux leather with some kind of other material woven in as well. What was weird about the inside of the car, was instead of the classic Chevy logo sitting on the wheel, a face-like emblem took up the space. Karma rubbed off some of the dirt and grim from the emblem and a sudden surge of energy ran across her hand.
This car just kept getting stranger by the minute. Shaking her head, Karma called Sam over, watching as his jaw dropped in awe at the beauty she found.
"Well? Whadya think? It's pretty old, 1976, I believe, but it's in really good shape for its age. The previous owner was good to it. Inside looks like faux leather, outside is almost completely undamaged, and the engine is frankly amazing for the year and model. I say after a little TLC this bad boy will be running like the devil himself.
Without a word, Sam jumps into the driver's seat, likely imagining himself actually driving the car.
"Feels good." The teen mutters, almost too low for Karma to hear.
Calling the salesman over, Karma asks for the price. Before he answers, he hesitates when he sees the car. Like he hadn't seen it before. But, that wasn't possible. He owned the damned lot. He was the one who would've authorized the car in the first place.
The salesman tries to come up with some bullshit pricing and reasons, but Karma wasn't having any of that.
"Considering the semi-classic nature, as well as the slick wheels and custom paint job-" Karma cut him off.
"Custom paint job? The paint's faded."
"Right, but it's custom."
"So, it's custom faded? Not exactly the best. Plus, the car is in need of some pretty extensive repairs, not to mention the tune-ups needed with older vehicles like this. And, the car will probably need some work over time due to its age." Karma was quick to come back.
"Well, it's your first car, I wouldn't expect you to understand, lil lady." Karma growls slightly, about to say something else when a hand hits her shoulder. Sam was shaking his head out of the corner of her eyes.
Huffing, Karma rolls her eyes, throwing Sam's hand off her shoulder. She slammed the door, only to have the opposite one slam open, knocking into the salesman. Karma snickered before her face straightened out when she saw Ron looking at her with an unimpressed stare. She shrugged lightly.
"Oh no, are you okay?" She asks sarcastically, not in the slightest worried or sorry.
Karma tunes out the conversation between the salesman and Ron, watching the road and the cars flashing by. A high pitched noise is what brought her back to the present. The noise went too high too fast. The glass of every car suddenly shattered, and Karma threw herself to the ground, quickly shielding her neck with her arms.
She couldn't help the hiss of pain she let out when she felt multiple glass shards slice into her skin. After a couple of minutes, everyone slowly stood back up. Karma looked over to the Camaro after hearing Sam's slight gasp. The Chevy was completely fine.
The salesman squeaked before raising four fingers, eager to match Ron's price and get Satan's Camaro out of his lot.
Karma lets out a soft chuckle, climbing into the Camaro. Sam was the one driving home, so she didn't need to worry about really paying attention to the road. She pulled out the book she had in her messenger bag, picking up where she left off.
They stopped for drinks and a light snack before heading home. They didn't make it back until close to dark, coming into the drive with ease. The Camaro had been easy enough to drive according to Sam.
The girl looked out from the small porch in their backyard and made a mental note of what the car would need done before the lake party the next day and what could wait. Huffing, Karma knew that she'd have her hands full. Unfortunately for her, the work also meant that she'd have an early morning tomorrow. She so was not looking forward to that. She waited until the sun finished setting before going inside, not looking back at the seemingly innocent car.
If only the teens knew just what they'd gotten themselves into. And just how much it would end up costing them in the long run. But hey, that's a story for another day.