Overview

Hi, everyone! I have loved "Meet the Robinsons" since it first came out in 2007. It is my favorite movie of all time, and for years, I've enjoyed reading the many, amazing fanfics on this site! This is my first "Meet the Robinsons" inspired story.

This story begins about a year from where the film left off. Wilbur is 14 years old. In this story, I introduce an original character. You'll have to read on to see!

Disclaimer: I do not own Meet the Robinsons or any of its characters.

Fourteen-year-old Wilbur Robinson zipped around his room, twisting and looping in midair like he was defying gravity—which, technically, he was.

The hover boots on his feet—sleek, black, and equipped with mini stabilizer thrusters—let him soar in every direction with barely a shift of his weight. His dad's latest invention, naturally. The boots were supposed to be for controlled, practical lab work, buuuuuuut . . . Wilbur had other ideas.

"Okay, okay," he muttered to himself, hovering near his bed before pushing off with his foot. "We're going for the triple corkscrew. No guts, no glory."

He tucked his knees and spun through the air, twisting into a lopsided spiral. His black t-shirt flapped slightly from the momentum, and his signature cowlick somehow remained perfectly defiant, pointing skyward no matter how fast he flipped.

"BOOM!" he shouted triumphantly as he stuck the landing—boots skidding lightly across the carpet before he slowed to a smooth stop. He held out his arms like a gymnast. "Ten outta ten. Nailed it!"

Just as he was about to launch into another trick, his bedroom door slid open.

Cornelius Robinson stepped inside, calm and composed as always, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his lab coat. His sharp eyes scanned the room, lingering briefly on a half-destroyed model rocket on Wilbur's desk and a pile of laundry haphazardly stuffed into his chair.

Wilbur sailed by Cornelius with an easy-going wave. "Hey, Dad. What's happenin'?"

Cornelius took in the sight of his son gliding lazily in midair, then arched a brow. "Wilbur, I thought you were done testing those boots."

Wilbur shot him a mischievous grin, slowly spinning upside down. "I am. This is... extracurricular use."

Cornelius shook his head lightly, though there was no real disapproval in his expression. "You'll want to save some of that energy for tomorrow," he said, strolling over to Wilbur's desk and tapping a small holographic interface. With a flick of his wrist, he powered down the boots remotely.

Wilbur gave a squawk of protest as the thrusters cut off, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor with a thud.

"Hey!" He sat up with a scowl, ruffling his hair back into its usual cowlick. "I was just getting warmed up!"

Cornelius turned to face him, casually pocketing the console. "Dinner tomorrow night. Important business thing. You're coming."

Wilbur blinked. "Wait, what?"

Cornelius crossed the room and helped his son to his feet. "We're having dinner with my new business partners," he repeated. "They're a husband-and-wife duo – Drs. Eric and Michelle Jackson. We're collaborating on next-gen robotics. Big deal, Wilbur. Cutting-edge stuff."

Wilbur raised his eyebrows. "Whoa. Cool." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And you need me at this dinner because…?"

"Well, the Jacksons are bringing their daughter." Cornelius smiled. "I thought it'd be nice if you—"

Wilbur cut his father off with a loud groan. "You want me to babysit her."

"No, not babysit. Befriend," Cornelius corrected. "She's your age. I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

Wilbur rolled his eyes and sat on his bed with a disgruntled sigh. "Ugh, Dad. Seriously – you can't just force a friendship. We might not even click."

Cornelius sat on the bed next to his son. "Wilbur, you'll be polite," he said matter-of-factly. "You'll show her around. Give her the grand tour of the house. Let her see the lab." When Wilbur remained silent, Cornelius placed a calm hand on his shoulder. "Son, it would really mean a lot to me if you at least tried to be a good host to the Jacksons' daughter. Please."

Wilbur stared at his father, knowing he couldn't possibly let him down. He exhaled. "Fine."

Cornelius grinned and wrapped his arm around Wilbur's shoulder. "That's my boy."

"The one and only," Wilbur muttered, trying to crack a smile. He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "So…does this girl not know anybody else around here?"

"Well, from what her dad told me, they just moved to Todayland a few weeks ago. She hasn't had the chance to make any real friends yet. She mostly keeps to herself." Cornelius smiled at his son. "She's a lot like you."

Wilbur's face grew hot. "I have friends," he mumbled, but this wasn't exactly true. Aside from Carl and his two cousins, Laszlo and Tallulah, Wilbur didn't really have any friends. Sure, he was popular at school because people knew him as the son of famous inventor, Cornelius Robinson, but they were all too intimidated by this fact to really get to know him as a person. Plenty of girls at school liked him because they thought he was handsome, but they usually had ulterior motives, like getting a grand tour of the Robinson mansion, boosting their own popularity, or simply making the other girls at school jealous.

What if the Jacksons' daughter was no different?

Wilbur wrung his hands together nervously. Cornelius gave his son a firm pat on the back and stood, smoothing out his shirt. "Be ready by six tomorrow. And maybe... comb your hair," he added with a smirk.

Wilbur gave his dad a pointed look. His cowlick remained perfectly crooked, just as stubborn as he was.