Title: 91 Cents to A Million Friendship

Genre: Action/Drama/Friendship

Rating: T for mild language, some violence, some crude and sexual humor.

Summary: Dawn Adams hates her life, her job, living with her jerk of a stepfather, and she's despised at school. And then she meets an unusual driver of a Corvette Stingray and everything changes.

~Chapter One~

Dawn Adams

Have you ever looked up at the stars and wondered if there was life out there? Ever wonder if there were little green people on planets in space? You know, aliens, worlds, universes and that kind of stuff.

I sure did when I was only a kid. I couldn't think of any kid who didn't think about life out in space and about aliens. I used to love sitting out late in the evening with my mom, looking up into the stars and dreaming about what life would be out there. I even sometimes tried grabbing some radio and talk into it, as if transmitting messages out to the aliens, saying to come to Earth and be my friend. I always dreamed that aliens would come and meet me. I even wished that they would. It would be so cool to just have an alien friend. I sure thought so.

But it all changed when my mom disappeared.

No one really knew where she was or why she had gone. All I know is when I was only twelve years old my mom went on a business trip and she disappeared. That was it. There was no news about her. There was nothing. I didn't know if she was dead or alive. I didn't know if she was ever coming back. I didn't know if I would ever find out about what happened to her. All I knew was that I had no family left. I didn't know where my real father was. I've never really knew him. He left when I was just a baby, leaving my mom to be heartbroken and beaten in so many ways.

That is until she met Christian Moxen.

Like most men at first, which I mean no offense to the male population at all, he was nice to my mother. He took her places, using his money. And yes, he's well endowed. He could take care of us pretty well. It wasn't like that we were broke ourselves. My mom actually had her own money she got from working hard. She was a Journalist for Times magazine. A minor Journalist but it was enough to get her a good income. It was more than he got. So that's what I think had his attention.

Why did I think that?

Because when he finally married my mother, he began spending money left and right. He spent a lot of it on himself and my mother. But he didn't do anything for me more than he could that wouldn't attract mom's attention. He knew if he didn't, mom would notice how he was treating me. It wasn't until mom started traveling did he start being an ass to me. He began showing his true colors.

In truth, he was the male version of the Evil Stepmother from Disney's Cinderella. He would order me around, tell me to do my chores and make sure I didn't have much of a social life. I never got to go out with my friends, which I began to lose because of him. He made my life a living hell when my mother wasn't around. I tried to tell my mom about it but before I even could, he'd always interrupt and call for my mother's attention. He was always in the way between mother and me. And mom actually listened to him more than me. I knew why. She was lonely without a man in her life. But did she seriously have to choose the evil stepfather?

It made things worst when mom finally vanished on her business trip. She just disappeared and I got stuck with him. Because I was underage, I couldn't really say anything. He was also in control of everything. My mom had made a will just in case something did happen to her. She left everything me, of course. But everything was to go to Christian until I was old enough to collect my inheritance. And by old enough, I meant being 21 years old. I didn't have a choice at 18 years old, which I still had a year to go.

Oh. I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?

Okay. Here we go.

My name is Dawn Jade Adams. I'm 17 years old and a senior at the Tranquility High School in Tranquility, Nevada. People say that I really look like my mother but I disagree. I just can't look like her. She was beautiful, while I'm scrawny and short. My dull dark brown hair could never match up to my mother's glossy dark chocolate colored and wavy hair or my dull green eyes could never even look like my mother's gorgeous emerald green eyes. I'd have to say my eyes are the color of drowned leaf.

And so happens, I happen to be really anti-social. It's not really my fault either. It's Christian's doing. Ever since my mom disappeared when I was 14 years old, I kind of became a little gloomy. I didn't talk very much nor did I hang out with people. I had lost my best friend and I didn't know where she was. So could you really blame me?

Well, there was that and the fact that I do have scars on my wrists. People think I'm all Emo and stuff but I'm really not. I have scars because when my mom disappeared, Christian threw a huge fit about how he had to keep me and threw a vase at the wall, which I happened to be standing next to. I don't think he actually meant to hit me with it, because he had looked pretty shocked when the glass cut into my arms. He did make his amends on that one, paying the hospital bills without any complaint and even didn't make me do chores until my arms healed from the stitches. For the first time since he even became my step dad, he had been kind to me. He didn't do any yelling or wasn't impatient with me. But when my arms did heal up and I could pick things up without my arms hurting, he went back to his old ways. He even made me get an after school job just so I could actually pay rent for living in his house. It wasn't very much he was making me give him but still, he was making me pay for living with him! Some stepfather, huh?

Anyway, like I said. I wasn't very social in high school and if anyone did know who I was, they knew me as "Emo Girl" and not by my name. I don't even think the teachers knew my name. They never called my name in class or made me answer any questions. No one ever said my name other than "Emo" or just Adams.

And don't get started on the job I was forced to get. It was the worst job ever, though a lot of people would love to have it. I was a Retail worker at the most favorable doughnut shop in the United States, if not just in Western states.

Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.

Ugh. Can my life get any lamer?

Now, don't get me wrong. There are a lot of people who just love Krispy Kreme doughnuts. And at one point, I did too. I had loved working there in the beginning because they let us eat as many doughnuts as we wanted and stuff like that. Guys at school thought it was pretty cool. But the girls? Uh-uh. I've had a lot of girls actually ask me why I wasn't fat yet from eating so many doughnuts. Truth is, I didn't eat that many even in the beginning. And there are only so much doughnuts you can eat before you get sick of them. I especially hate the smell that I always seem to smell everywhere you go. That sweet, sickening smell of doughnuts.

God, just thinking about them makes me want to hurl.

Still, I hated my job for a few reasons. Even though I wasn't very sociable and people knew me as "Emo", they also knew that I worked at Krispy Kreme. So I was also known as "Doughnut Girl" and I really hated that nickname more than "Emo". That was only the second thing I hated about my job. The number one reason above all reasons of why I hated Krispy Kreme was the fact that my General Manager, Vic, was a total prick. But I'll get to him in a little bit.

First, you got to know something. I was not always friendless. I actually did have a friend once. It was in elementary of course, but when you move away from the house you were born in and move in with an incredibly jerk step dad like mine, you tend to get forgotten. I met him in Kindergarten and was in the same school as him until maybe fourth grade. That was about the time my mother met Christian.

His name was Sam Witwicky.

He was just one of those boys that I would get along with and we would play Duck, Duck, Goose or Hide and Seek with the other kids. We would even have our own types of races across the playground and on the monkey bars. We were just friends. He had known my name back then. But when I was forced to move in with Christian and moved to a different school, we lost touch with each other.

It wasn't until Jr High or High School did I see Sam again. It took me sometime to actually recognize him, not to mention, remember him. It didn't really matter though. He didn't remember me. If he had, he would have said something to me. Instead, he mostly paid attention to the one girl that really, really got on my nerves because she was so popular. And I'm talking about a two faced, stuck up, and very shallow girl named Mikaela Banes.

Okay. I'll have to give her some credit. She can be pretty nice. She's popular because she happens to look almost like a super model and she's friends with nearly everyone. Not to mention, she's dated like every guy that's into sports. Especially that freak, Trent DeMarco, who I am definitely not on good terms with. When he does notice me, he calls me a freak. I guess I can be a freak with my very silent and anti-social ways. But seriously, did he have to throw a football in my direction almost every day when he notices me. Though, recently, he's cut back on bullying me. He doesn't even seem to notice my existence anymore, or even care about throwing a football at me. I don't know what really happened. But he stopped picking fights with Sam and started hanging out with him. I, like, many others don't get it.

Still, I'm talking about Mikaela Banes. She has never, ever even talked to me or looked my way. Even when I was in her same art class, sitting right behind her. She doesn't even realize I exist. I kind of hated her for everything she was. She was Miss Perfect, with her boyfriends, her friends, her looks, and even for having my old friend's attention.

Yeah, I guess you could say I'm jealous of her. But I know for a fact that I'm not the only one. Even some of her stuck up friends are jealous of her.

It wasn't until just my Junior year that she really bent my nose out of shape. I don't have any clue what happened between them but Mikaela had dumped Trent DeMarco and somehow she noticed Sam. I guess it was because he got a new car, which was interesting enough. I had liked it a little. It was a Classic 1969 Chevy Camaro; old yellow with black racing stripes. It was a car I could only dream of having but I was stuck with my old beat up dull gray Volvo.

Still, something happened that I've ended up scratching my head at. Somehow, Sam got a new car; a 2009 Chevy Camaro; golden yellow with awesome black racing stripes. It was a very nice car built for power and speed. I know a lot about cars. That's just one of my little hobbies that I liked doing. I like to look at cars, look them up to see how good they were, appraise them, and even draw them in my sketchbook. But still, Sam got a new, cool car and he then started dating Mikaela Banes. And because of that, he jumped from being a complete dork to one Mr. Cool. People liked him. They knew his name because he was dating Mikaela Banes and because he had a hot car. He was a somebody after being a nobody, which what I was.

And that's why I turned my back to him. I started hating him. He had turned from geek to popular all because of Mikaela and that stupid car. I guess you could say, I was jealous of him too. Because he was somebody and he didn't even remember my name nor knew that I even existed.

Hmmm. Some friend he had been once.

Anyway, little did I know, my big moment was yet to come. Something changed my life and I could never decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing. And it all began the day that Sam Witwicky actually realized that I existed.

It had been a Thursday in November. It was still warm in Nevada yet there was chill the air as the year grew later. I had been outside the cafeteria, sitting next to the window and drawing a picture in my art book for my art class. Our assignments was to design our own dreams for the future. I hadn't really thought much of what I wanted for my future. There was a lot of things that I wanted. My mom back. Chris to disappear and stop being my stepfather. Someone to notice me.

But instead of drawing any of that stuff, I took one look at Sam Witwicky's super hot Camaro and decided to draw that.

I drew the 2009 Camaro in my sketch book before giving it a new custom paint job, using my coloring pencils. I gave it a deep silver color with a wicked looking black lightning marking running along the sides. I even decided to give it a little bit of a tail on the trunk, just to spiff it up a little. It didn't look very much like Sam's car but if anyone would pay attention, they would notice that it was that sweet looking Camaro.

It was then I noticed that Sam and Mikaela were sitting against the Camaro, talking to Sam's weird friend, Miles, who was another guy that I despised. Miles Lancaster was a bigger geek than me but at least he was noticed and acknowledged. He thought he was a ladie's man and did a lot of flirting with girls, but he always failed to catch one's attention. He was also into climbing trees a lot and always doing flips off of branches. It was kind of cool in a way, until he actually landing on his head or his back, knocking the wind out of himself. I'm sorry to say it, or maybe not, but he deserves it if he's going to do stupid things like that.

Anyway, I stared at the car, wonderingly, trying to think of how I would make my own Camaro look cooler. So far, I had done everything I could think of to the Camaro in my picture but in a way, it kind of matched Sam's car. It was the same shape and almost the same year. And it sure didn't help my feelings about my dream car. I couldn't help but feel that Sam Witwicky's car was so much cooler than the one of my dreams. I had to lightly sigh in defeat as I looked back down at my drawing.

Suddenly something very hard hit me in the head, causing me to yelp very loudly and nearly fall right off my bench onto the concrete. I swore I could see stars rushing at me as I saw a little bit of darkness. And I knew I could hear lots of laughter. I know who had seen what just happened.


My head feeling like it was spinning a little, I felt myself fall backwards a little, yelping as I finally hit the concrete, banging my elbow against the ground. I hissed in pain as I just laid there for a minute, letting the stars dance across my vision, almost taunting me before I heard someone yelling at someone else.

And then Sam's face appeared right above my own, making my eyes snap wide open and focus very quickly.

Sam was standing over me, looking down at me with concern and shock, nearly kneeling at my head as he stared down at me. I couldn't believe it though. He was actually acknowledging my existence for the first time in nearly seven years. I could have just laid there for a moment, staring up at him. That is until I saw Mikaela Banes appear right next to him, still yelling at whoever just threw the football at my head. It took me a minute to pick up the name she was yelling; one of Trent DeMarco's friends, some kind named James Westley.

"Hey!! Are you okay?!" Sam was asking me.

I just laid there for a minute before groaning and tried to push myself to sitting up. My head spun for a moment and I nearly fell back down if Sam had not grabbed me from under my arms, helping me sit up. I wanted so much to just lean back against him. My head was pounding from getting hit so hard but I'm sure it just because of the impact numbing my skin under my hair.

But after hearing Mikaela's voice now, asking me if I was okay, I pulled away from him, giving them both a look before grabbing the bench to my table and pulling myself to my feet. I could feel Sam's hand on my back though, probably just trying to steady me. I ignored it. I stood up, rubbing my head before looking over at the laughing jock among his stupid friends, pointing and laughing hysterically. They weren't the only ones. Everyone was laughing. I felt my face flush so hot that I knew I must have been very red. My head lowered a little before my eyes caught sight of my drawing on the ground. I felt a sharp intake of breath catch within halfway my throat and to my lungs when I saw that the paper was a little crinkled from falling onto the ground and it didn't help that at the time the football hit me my pencil had been close to the paper. So there was a firm black line trailing across the drawing.

My temper went right through the roof.

With my hands balled up so tightly that my fingernails bit into my palms, threatening to cut into the skin as I turned a very cold stare onto Westley, who was still laughing and nudging a strangely hesitant Trent DeMarco. That was pretty weird. Usually Trent was the one who was laughing the hardest when he and his freaky friends bullied me. Westley must have finally noticed my reaction because he stepped forward, shrugging and giving me a look as if to ask me what I was going to do about it.

"Um...." I heard Sam beside me but I again ignored him.

Instead, I smiled acidly before I bent down and picked up the football that had hit me, which made quite a lot of people falter in their laughter, just to watch what I was going to do. Westley even stopped laughing and rose his eyebrow at me. By the look on his face, he thought I was throw it back at him. But that wasn't my plan. I had something else in mind. I slid out one of my pens that I got from Staples, you know. The personalized, stainless steel ones, the ones that nearly cost a fortune getting and I smiled acidly at Westley, whose eyes suddenly got very wide. He got the idea of what I was going to do.

"Don't you freakin' dare!!" He started to yell at me as he took a few steps forward.

Too late.

I rammed my pen so hard against the leather bound ball, in one of the creases and stabbed into it, popping the damn thing. There was a loud pop as if someone had popped a bag before the ball was flat and un-shapely. I heard quite a few people actually laugh at what I just did. I even heard Sam snort a laugh. Westley, and even Trent were letting out a string of swearwords as he stopped and let out a very pained sound as if the ball was a part of him and he felt its pain. I ignored that though as I just tossed the ball down and then bent over to get my things.

Sam and Mikaela both bent down to help me, gathering my art pencils and then they saw my drawing, freezing as they looked at it. He even reached over and picked it up before it was snatched away by me. "Uh......that's a really cool looking car! You're really good! That's a Camaro, right?" He had asked.

I gave him a blank stare. I couldn't believe he was actually talking to me. All of these years and these were the first things he ever said to me. I should have been flattered that he was complimenting on my picture but I actually felt annoyed with Mikaela there. I didn't like her. Plain and simple.

"Um.....Camaro, right?" She eventually asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I narrowed my eyes at her, giving her the idea of my dislike of her. I even saw Sam tense up as he glanced between us. He looked rather flabbergasted and he was trying to find something to say to get rid of the tension between us. So instead, he thrust out his hand towards me. "Hi! I don't think we've ever met. I'm Sam......"

"I know who you are, Sam Witwicky. And we have met before." I found myself say in annoyance, though there was a dull sting deep within as I gave him a look. I really couldn't believe that he couldn't remember me. I saw a hint of confusion flash over his eyes as he watched me carefully with an equally confused Mikaela Banes. But all I could do was shake my head as I began shoving things into my backpack and swinging it behind my back, still giving Sam a dry look. "I can't believe you forgot me, Sam." was the last thing I said to him before I turned around and walked off, leaving them both very confused.

All day long, talking to Sam like that made me start regretting it because I walked down the halls, I saw people looking at me and heard them whispering. It was so obvious what they were talking about. They were talking about me and how I destroyed what I discovered later was Trent DeMarco's football and how I talked to Sam Witwicky. The two most popular guys in the entire school. I was finally getting noticed for the first time since I even went quiet. But it was all for the wrong reasons. I was getting noticed for being a bitch to both of the two guys. This was definitely my not to do list.

As I was walking to my final class, which was Art and Sculpture class, I felt the hairs prickle on the back my neck. That was usually a bad sign.

And then someone shoved me, hard, against one of the lockers. I yelped as I hit the metal before I looked to see a passing group of girls and guys, ones that I knew that hung out with Sam and Mikaela. They were laughing almost rudely as they shot me looks. "She's such an Emo." I heard one say.

I leaned against the lockers for a moment, staring at the ground before turning around to keep on going, only to gasp sharply when someone roughly grabbed me by the front of my shirt and shoved me hard against the lockers, pinning me there.

It was Westley, glaring at me.

"Listen you freak!" He snapped at me, his grip tightening on my shirt until it was almost painful. "You now owe me and Trent a new football! So until you get me one, your ass is mine! Do we have an understanding?!"

I rose my eyes to look into his, giving him a cold look. I really being threatened. Especially by a big ape like James Westley. "Now, you listen to me. You have exactly ten seconds to get your hands off of me........" I was threatening him right back.

Westley narrowed his eyes darkly at me. "Or you'll what?!" He demanded.

Suddenly, someone shoved him hard away from me, nearly taking me with him. But someone grabbed my arm, steadying me. I was taken by surprise, especially when I turned to see a boy I've never even seen before. He was about my age, if not just a little older than I was. He was taller by a few inches, but very cute. He had a young boyish face with dark hair gelled to standing up and defying gravity just a little. The tips were nearly bright yellow blonde, sinking in and mixing with ink black hair while his eyes were the brightest blue, and almost glowing. I found myself a little mesmerized by them. He was wearing a black tee-shirt with an imprint of a bee on the front, along with deep blue jeans.

His glowing blue eyes were glaring at the boy who had been bullying me, looking like he was about to have a smack down with him. But they eventually flickered over to me, looking directly into my stunned eyes. I couldn't help but stare at him. He was actually looking a little concerned. I didn't even know who he was, but he looked worried about me.

"Hey!" Westley snapped when he managed to find his ground and turned to see who had shoved him. He was surprised at first, then very angry. "You're that mute freak that hangs out with Witwicky!"

I was surprised for two different reasons. One, this guy I've never met who stood up for me was a friend of Sam's. Two, he couldn't talk. I had never, ever met someone who couldn't talk before. So it was kind of a strange thing to me. But what struck me even more, what really, really angered me the most was the way Westley had said it. I had to glare at him. I wasn't the only one who started glaring at him. The mute boy with the Bee shirt turned his dangerously blue eyes onto Westley, giving him a look of warning. He didn't look insulted of what this jock even said. I would have been if I had been in his place.

"Is there a problem here?"

I looked up and behind Westley with the Bee boy, which I'm not going to call him a mute boy again because that's just rude, and I saw Mr. Grant, the Principal. He did not look happy but then again with three students out of class, late for class, and finding them fighting, who would be?

Westley, however, decided to play the innocent part. He jabbed a finger towards the Bee boy, who straightened up and stood like a soldier, firmly looking at the bully. "That guy attacked me, Mr. Grant! I was talking to her and he just came up and......!" He was saying.

I felt myself scoff out very loudly, more likely with disgust and shook my head as I gave Westley a dark look. "You were threatening me, Westley! And he came to my defense! So the only one who's doing the attacking is you!!" I snapped, defending the boy, who glanced at me with mild surprise. I almost didn't feel grateful for him anymore. I couldn't help but feel like he was one of those guys who just had to defend everyone who gets picked on and not have the one picked on not be able to stand up for their selves.

......okay. You know what, I'm not really. But I didn't want to admit that. It's embarrassing.

Westley shot me a dangerous look as if telling me to shut up or I would be paying for it later, but his glare turned onto the Bee boy when he moved closer to me, giving me an equally dark glare. The boy must have seen and read the look that had been on his face, so he came to my defense again. I should have been flattered but I wasn't.

Before any one of us, Me, Westley or even the quiet Bee boy could say or do anything, Mr. Grant held up a finger, giving us all a daring look to even start fighting again. He then turned that look onto Westley, shaking his head as he dropped his arm again at his side. "Mr. James Westley, do you think I'm an idiot?" We all froze, looking at him in surprise. I couldn't believe he said that. "I've just been down the hall, Mr. Westley. I've actually watched the entire thing." He told the jock bully.

Westley winced.

I smirked.

The Bee boy remained impassive as he just straightened, lifting his head in a more casual way. He obviously could see that the problem had been diverted.

"Mr. Westley, you will go to my office, right this instant and you will wait till I am done here. Is that clear?" Mr. Grant said sternly. Even I had to frown at the sound of that. It sounded like I was in trouble after all. Either the Bee boy or me.

"Yes, sir." Westley murmured. He was not happy either way. I wouldn't be. And then he trudged off.

Mr. Grant watched as he turned the corner to the other hall before finally turning his attention onto me and the Bee boy, giving us a stern look. I almost flinched outwardly. I know I didn't but it seemed that the Principal could tell that I was about to because his face softened and he moved forward a little, looking me over. "Miss Adams, are you all right? You're not hurt, are you?" He asked, almost gently.

I only shook my head, not trusting my mouth right at the moment. I wasn't in a good mood and when I wasn't in a good mood, I tend to say things that got me into trouble. "....M' okay." was all I managed to murmur out.

Mr. Grant just nodded before looking at the Bee boy next, giving him a very stern look, which I was surprised to see that the boy was now trying to smile innocently. In truth, he did look very innocent. Even his eyes seem to take on the innocent twinkle as he shrugged lightly. It was kind of cute. "Mr. Brad Witwicky, did I not warn you that you couldn't enter the school during school hours? If you're going to wait for your cousin, then wait outside in your car." He almost said in a warning tone.

I blinked in surprise. Did the Principal just say what I thought he said? I looked at the Bee boy, Brad Witwicky with surprise. He didn't look anything like Sam. Not really. But apparently, he was related to him. I didn't remember Sam ever telling me had a cousin. A boy cousin, anyway. He told me when we were kids he had only girl cousins. I remember that very well. Because I used to tease him a lot when he told me that all of his cousins forced him to play, House, and would make him dress up like a girl because they wanted to have a tea party. I still remember laughing at him until his face turned cherry red. And I mean the color of a black cherry. I still don't know how he managed to turn that color.

I heard a whistle and a chirp come from the boy next to me so I looked at him with a curious look. I could have sworn he just chirped. He was making hand signals at the Principal, trying to talk to him. And knowing Mr. Grant, he knew what he was saying. I heard that he actually took up studying all kinds of languages as he became a teacher and then a Principal. I couldn't blame him either. He just wanted to be able to understand all kinds of kids from all around the world. We do have a foreign exchange student program, like most schools do; which is cool.

Mr. Grant sighed shaking his head before shifting his weight. "Brad, I don't care if you were bored waiting for Sam and Mikaela. You're not a student here. You're not even a student. You're here during the school hours and you can't wait inside the school for a whole hour. You have got to wait outside. Now, go outside and wait for Sam like you're suppose to." He said, sternly. Brad Witwicky's shoulders drooped very low as he put on a pouty look. It looked like he was trying to give the Principal a Puppy dog eyed look. "Don't make me have to call Mr. Prime, Bee." The Principal, his eyes narrowing sternly. "I already allow you to wait outside in the parking lot during school, because of the situation. But I will complain to your boss."

I was confused. But I wasn't about to question the so called situation.

With a light whirling sigh, Brad Witwicky glanced over at me, offered a smile and a wave before he was walking away towards the doors. He was sure a strange fellow and it had my brain going.

"Miss Adams," The Principal's voice startled me out of my thoughts, making me look up at him. He was frowning again, his arms folded over his chest. "You're late for Seventh Period. Get to class. If you're in trouble with Ms. Beatty, just tell her to give me a call at my office and I'll explain the situation. But I highly doubt that you will be." He then turned and walked off.

It was true about the Art teacher, Ms. Sheryl Beatty. She was one of those laid back sort of teachers. As long as you showed up for class and actually did your work and turned it in on time, she didn't care if you were tardy. She was cool. So I wasn't surprised when I walked into class, catching everyone's attention, including, surprise, surprise, Mikaela Banes' attention, Ms. Beatty smiled at me and told me to get my ass in my chair. She swore too, even if it was against school policies. She was so cool!

I sat down in my usual chair, which was right behind Mikaela and pulled out my art book, as well as my sketchbook and got started on my usual art project. I was working on the Camaro picture, trying to get rid of the ugly black line that Westley had made me put across the paper during lunch. It wasn't working too well, even with my gum eraser.

From the top of my sketchbook, I saw Mikaela shift a few times, as if she was going to turn around and actually talk to me. But she seemed to really hesitate. I was sure it was because she didn't want to talk to a geek like me.

But finally, she decided.

Mikaela swung right around in her chair and looked directly at me with her bright blue eye and actually smiled at me. I only looked at her with my head lowered before turning my eyes back onto my paper. I tried to ignore her.

"Dawn, right?" Mikaela asked, trying to pull my attention away from my art.

With a very low sigh, I looked directly at her. I was mildly surprised that she knew my name, but then again, she must have asked around about me. Still, I couldn't believe she was actually talking to me. No one talked to me. Not unless they wanted me to do their homework or something. "Yeah. Dawn Adams. And I'm not doing your homework for you." I said, a little impatiently.

Mikaela actually laughed quietly before shaking her head, letting her beautiful black hair bounce on her shoulders. She must have thought that was a joke. "No. I don't want you to do my homework. I just wanted to say hi to you. And introduce myself......."

"You're Mikaela Banes." I interrupted, lowering my sketchbook onto my desk and folded my arms, almost impatiently. I didn't want to play this game. I just wanted to hear what she wanted from me and then get back to work. "You've dated Trent DeMarco, Mr. Wonderful Football player, who recently had a change of heart and decided quit football, pissing off quite a few people, and decided to start hanging out with turned cool from geek, Sam Witwicky just because you are. You're dating Sam Witwicky, you're one of the best mechanics in Autoshop class and you're nearly a straight A student. You're the most popular girl in school, Mikaela. No one doesn't know your name."

Again, she laughed shortly, though it sounded like she was forcing it now. Mikaela actually looked embarrassed that I knew all of that. "Um, yeah. I guess that's about right." She paused for a moment. "Uh, so about earlier, at lunch. I just wanted to see if you were......" She was saying.

I shook my head as I reached up and scratched the area where the football hit me. It was no doubt bruised in that spot because it still hurt even after a few hours. But still....."I'm fine. I don't have a concussion or anything." I told her.

Mikaela shook her head as she folded her arms and rest them on the back of her chair. "No. That's not really what I meant. I mean, I'm glad you're okay. I just wanted......I just wanted to know how you know Sam." She glanced away, almost hesitating. "He.....he got a little weird after what you said. He was confused and trying to think of what you meant and then Trent came over and said something about how he used to hang out with you in Elementary school. Sam went weird after that. I don't think he remembers you......."

"Of course he doesn't, Mikaela." I found myself say coldly. "We were just kids......."


I let out a startled gasp when paint came from somewhere above me, spilling down my front and splattering my art. I saw Mikaela gasp and shoot to her feet, trying to avoid the paint. She was very lucky because there wasn't a spot on her. But me.....I had paint all over me.

And my Camaro picture was ruined.

"Paul!!" Mikaela almost shrieked at the boy who spilt paint on me.

I looked up to see that it was one of the guys that started to hang out with Sam and Mikaela. His name was Paul something. I don't remember his last name. But judging by the look on his face, and him trying not to laugh, he had done it on purpose. "Oh! I am sorry! I was just walking behind you and the paint can slipped from my hands! I swear, I didn't mean....." He was saying.

I stood up, giving him a dangerous look and making him step back. I knew very well that it had not been an accident. I could see it right on his stupid face! "Yeah, right!" I snapped sharply.

Paul hesitated before snorting and smiling almost acidly at me. "Yeah. Right. You're right. Next time, if Sam asks you a question, you better answer it." He told me.

"Paul!" Mikaela snapped, her blue eyes glaring at him. She seriously looked pissed off. Even I had to step back away from her. If there was anyone who looked like she was going to kill someone, it was her. She looked like she was about to pick up something very heavy and smash it over Paul's head. It was kind of scary.

But still, Paul had said what I needed him to say. He had pretty much done it because of what I said to Sam, or at least what I didn't say to him. It had to be Sam who sent him to do his dirty work. Sam must have been angry at me for saying what I did. I never ever actually pegged him the kind to get someone to extract revenge on me for not answering a stupid question, but you really couldn't underestimate people anymore. Some people could seem so nice and innocent and end up being evil and vile and cruel.

I could feel a prickle in my eyes as I glanced down at myself then at my now ruined picture. I ignored Ms. Beatty as she started asking about what just happened. All I did was lift my eyes and give Mikaela a very unsettling look. She must have been apart of this too. She probably was just trying to distract me. I couldn't believe the nerve of her.

"Paul, I can't believe you just did that!!" Mikaela was snapping at the boy who spilled paint on me. "What is your prob......?!"

"You." I hissed out, catching Mikaela's attention and making it go very quiet in the room. She even looked at me with surprise and confusion. I shook my head as I balled up my fists and glared at her. "Sam and I were best friends until you moved into the neighborhood. He doesn't even remember me because of you." I snatched up my bag and grabbed my slightly damp picture, nearly crushing it in my fist. "When you see Sam, tell him thanks a lot! If he has problem with me not answering one of his damn questions, tell him to take it up with me and not send you and this monkey ass to do it!" I snapped before I started towards the door.

"Miss Adams!" Ms Beatty called after me. "Class is not over yet!"

"Dawn!" Mikaela called after me, sounding perplexed. "Sam would never ask anyone to do something like this! Not for any reason!"

I turned my head only once before grabbing the door and slamming it open. I didn't leave just yet as I turned slightly to look at her before shaking my head and slamming the door shut. I knew very well that Ms. Beatty was probably following after me but I was out of there. I took off running down the hall, my eyes starting to water and my chest hurting. Or it wasn't my chest. It was my heart. So many wrong things were happening to me. I was always bullied and picked on and there is just so much that one could take before they broke down. It was the same for me.

I ignored a few people out in the halls, including Mr. Grant. I heard him call after me but I ignored him. I was out the school doors, speed walking towards my stupid Volvo that sat in the distant corner of the parking lot. Tears were starting to blind my vision as I walked towards it.

And then I caught sight of bright yellow.

I halted in my steps and blinked the tears back to look at Sam's yellow Camaro. I was surprised to see that Brad Witwicky was lounging in the driver's seat, looking as if he was asleep as he propped his feet up on the dashboard. It was sure a suprise to see him in Sam's car. And even more to see Trent DeMarco's electric blue Porsch sitting right next to it. I remember when he even showed up in that thing. It had a lot of people asking him about when and where he got it.

But I ignored it as I turned my direction towards the Camaro and began walking towards it. I wanted nothing more than just give it a nice, big kick in the side. I wanted to dent this thing to pay Sam back. I was so frustrated with him that it had to be this I took my revenge on.

Instead, I just stood in front of it, glaring down at it. And my presense seemed to have alerted Brad Witwicky, because his eyes shot open and he looked right at me. He was surprised to see me and even started to lower his feet to the floor and reach for the door to get out.

I stopped him short when I threw my paint drenched drawing at the car, hitting the hood. He jumped, alarmed that I did that but he wasn't the only one. I could have sworn that the car jumped too. The alarm seemed to even kick in a little, blasting out a few times before the engine revved at me. I ignored it as I looked directly at a frowning Brad. He was looking at me as if I had thrown the drenched paper at him and had hit him with it. "When you see your stupid cousin, Sam," Brad froze, looking at me with a surprised frown. "Tell him that the car on the drawing is this stupid Camaro, only spiffed up in my own image." I said, my voice trembling a little before I turned and hurried towards my Volvo.

I could feel Brad's eyes on me but I didn't look back until I got to my car, yanking the car door open. By the time I got the door open, there were a few tears trickling down my cheeks and I was shaking a little. I turned to look over at the Camaro and saw that Brad had gotten out and was peeling the wet drawing off the hood, trying to open it and look at it.

I only shook my head before climbing and tried to start the beat up car. It choked several times and then coughed up a nice, big black of smoke into the parking lot. Then I was off.

Could my life get any worst?