— BLAKE WITWICKY —

Captain Archibald Witwicky was gazing out of an old newspaper displayed on a laptop screen. My pen was suspended above the sheet of paper I had been drawing on. That wasn't the worst part of Sam's presentation. My gaze dropped back to the newspaper. Beneath his stern formal seaman's portrait, a considerably less restrained caption screamed:

ARCTIC ADVENTURER ALLEGES ICE MAN FOUND!

Madding. I had lived for years with the Witwicky family, so I knew the story and that this had upset people back in the day, but for Sam to throw this story in the face of people who didn't like him... he wasn't making himself any more popular.
The clipping was in service of an ad on eBay selling a pair of old glasses that had once belonged to the older man. That wasn't the only item on eBay. I knew he didn't want to sell the glasses but needed the money for his car. Ron would pay the other half if he got one more A. Though enough junk was in his room, he had a better chance of selling.

My eyes zeroed in on the laptop screen. According to the advertisement, the one he had carefully composed, no one bid on them yet or any other relics on auction. I was amazed by how easily Sam made a fool out of himself by not even doing something but just standing there watching us — or Mikaela Banes in particular. I hated to admit it, but she was pretty. With her dark eyes and sparking deep blue eyes.
Sam cleared his throat and cut a fleeting glance at Mr. Hosney. "These are also on eBay if you wanna tell the folks — I take PayPal." I exhaled softly and turned back to my doodling. Sam cleared his throat a second time. "They'd make cool gifts. Like the compass for Columbus Day."

"Sam..." Mr. Hosney's voice boomed through the classroom. "Right." He smoothed his shirt down. "I guess years of suffering through bouts of recurrent hypothermia froze Captain Archibald's brain, and he ended up going blind and crazy. He was put in a psycho ward, where he spends all his time drawing weird symbols and babbling about a giant ice man."

I gazed at the newspaper clipping he was holding up. A different photo of the captain was displayed with strange, cryptic symbols. They made no sense to anyone in this class. In fact, I was sure they wouldn't make sense to anyone on this planet. Before Sam could say anything else, the bell rang, and people promptly got up and rushed to get out.

   I slowly rose, putting everything back in my backpack, and signed to Sam I'd be waiting outside. I got a wave of his hand in return.
      The halls bustled with people, all trying to make their way out. I couldn't wait to get out, too. It wasn't that I disliked people, but I wouldn't say I liked the business — I couldn't deal with all the yelling and loud noises. After the experiments, everything seemed ten times louder. Some noises went straight through my skull.

"Ey!"

I turned my head. Trent flashed me a grin. One that meant trouble. He wrapped an arm around me. "Are you coming to the party, darling?" He brushed some strands from my face. "No." I shrugged his arm off my shoulders and stepped away. "Pity. I got a new car, thought you might want to see it."
"Don't you get into trouble with Mikaela?" He shrugged casually. "There's enough space for two. There's a party at my place later tonight. I want you to come."

It probably meant Sam wasn't invited. "I will think about it."
"Come on, Blake. How many times do you get the opportunity to get invited to a party like mine? It'll be fun."
"You laughed at Sam."
"His presentation sucked, and you know it."

I said nothing, and he continued. "Besides, he's dragging you down while you've so much potential of being more. One date is all I ask." I sucked in a breath. One date. He had asked it so many times already. "Trent—" he cut me off. "Blake, darling..." He grasped my hands. "Let's make a deal..." he stepped closer. "I will stop bullying your brother, and you will come to my private party tonight and go on a date with me. One date is all I ask, and if it doesn't work out, we will deal with it."

I sucked in a breath. "Fine, fine." His shoulders sacked. "Sweet." He leaned in and pressed a kiss on my cheek. "It'll be worth it, I promise you that." Trent turned on his heels and went with the flow of people. "What was that about?" Sam stepped beside me. "There's some sort of party tonight. A private party at his house after he's done at the lake."
"You don't like large groups or people."

"I don't gate people, Sam. I'll just say hi and leave."
Sam gave me a look, then shoved a paper in my face. "I got it." His smile grew wider. "Congratulations!" His hand wrapped around my wrist, and he dragged me outside, where his father was waiting in the convertible. He hopped in the front seat while I casually slid into the backseat. "You got it?" Sam proudly held up the paper where the boldly written A- minus. "You owe me half the car now." Ron turned in his seat, studying me. "He did well? This isn't some joke?" I shook my head. "No."

I had helped Sam prepare and polish all the relics and specifically told him not to sell his junk in class. I knew for sure that Mr. Hosney was not pleased and wouldn't have given Sam an A- if it hadn't been for Sam's begging. He wanted this car. Since school started, he couldn't talk about anything but his grades and saving up money.

The family car rumbled to life, and Ron hit the road a second later. I slumped back and let the wind blow through my long-unbound hair. I watched the many stores flash by. I liked this part of the city. There was always something going on, but there were many quiet places and parks. I usually walked home through those. Suppose Trent wasn't chasing after me like a puppy. Sam hated the football player. He was all muscle and barely brain, and I had mixed feelings about him, too. He surely was a bully, but he also had settled his eyes on me. I rubbed my face. He had a particular interest in Mikaela, too.

Ron changed lanes, heading towards a looming Porsche dealership in the distance. I almost snorted when he veered back to the Northbound Lane. Sam cursed and slumped back, sour-faced. His anger prickled along my skin. While it was a blessing sometimes to pick up lies and emotions so quickly, it was also a curse. There was no way of shutting people out.
"You can't do that to your blood," Sam snapped. He looked over his shoulder, pinning me with a glare as well. "I have nothing to do with it." Ron laughed. "I am not getting you a Porsche." Sam sat back, crossing his arms. "You knew." I shook my head. "I can only detect lies when people voice a statement." And why did he hate it? Judy sometimes forced me to listen to arguments and tell me whether one of the males was lying. Not merely because I was a lie detector but also because I couldn't lie; that was an absolute curse.

Ron rounded the corner and approached a dealership. Standing out front on the curb, a man in a clown suit holding up a sign that said: CHEAP WHEEL 4 YOU. I quirked a brow. Ron couldn't be serious. From every dealership in the city, he chose to stop here. Sam had the same thought, apparently because he said: Here? You said you'd buy me half a car, not a piece of crap." Sam gestured at the man who receded behind us. "You know when I was your age," Ron began, tiling his chin. "I would've been happy with four wheels and an engine. Blake still walks, and I never hear her complain about anything." Ron looked at me through the rear mirror.

I had my driver's license, but my cars were expensive, and Judy sometimes let me use her car. I could perfectly manage without one. "Blake doesn't want a car. I am sure that if she did, she'd be happy to get a real car, not a piece of crap." Ron pulled up in the parking lot and cut the engine. I removed my seatbelt and hopped out. "Wouldn't you?" Sam asked. "I am sure there is a gem between all of these. You like racing stripes, don't you?" I gestured to a section of cars ahead that all had colored racing stripes. Sam let out a jagged sigh and turned back to his father to complain.

The lot's owner came bursting out of the nearby building—the one with withered wood and a broken sign that was supposed to be inviting. A smile was plastered on the males' faces from ear to ear. "MANNY! Get your cousin out of the damn clown suit! He's havin' a heatstroke again, scares the white folks!" I turned to the male in a clown suit. He, indeed, didn't seem to be doing well. "Bobby Bolivia, at your service." He shook Ron's hand a little too aggressively before turning to Sam and then me. I felt his enthusiasm skittered up my spine, along with another emotion that spoke in dollar signs.

        "Nice to meet you. My son here is buying his first car." Bobby B's eyes widened, almost bugled out of his sockets. He then slacked around his shoulders, pulling him in his sweaty body. "And you all came to me?" I edged around the couple and headed towards the lot to look for myself. I was sure there were some hidden gems here. My gaze fell on a dented, yellow Camaro with two large racing stripes from its hood and over the roof towards the end.

My hand ran over the black paint. I could've sworn to feel an electric shock tingling the nerve endings of my fingers. This car felt strange. Cars don't feel emotion, yet I did pick up on it. I took a single step back, inspecting every inch of its side. Curiosity. That's what prickled along my skin. Interesting. "What did you find?" Sam quickly stepped beside me, glancing at Bobby B. and Ron behind him. "Are you okay?" I nodded. "Yes, I think I am just tired." That was an understatement. "And you're still going to that party?" I rolled my shoulders. "Perhaps." Sam turned. "Is that a Corvette?" I turned as well. Two cars away from his stood a beautiful silver Corvette. There was no dent, but the paint was old and scratched.

I approached. It gave me the same energy I had felt earlier, but now, I felt annoyance. I angled my head. "I think it's annoying." My attempt to joke only got a confused look from Sam. "It's a car. Are you sure you're okay?" I waved a hand and laid my hand on its hood. Shock, surprise, and curiosity replaced the previous annoyance. "Hop in." He opened the door for me. "I am not the one buying a car, Sam." He shrugged and gestured for me to get in. With a soft sigh, I slid into the car. I reined in a sharp breath. It was gorgeous. My fingers traced the leather steering wheel. My gaze fell on the emblem in the middle of it. Some sort of... face? I traced it. "What do you think?" I shook my head. "The energy in here is... strange, but the car is gorgeous." I hopped out and gently closed the door. Sam studied the car for a moment. "You'd like to buy it? You saved enough money, didn't you?"

I chewed on my lip, staring at the silver vehicle. "I didn't come here to buy a car. This is about you, not me." I jerked my head to the yellow Camaro. "What do you think?" Sam took the bait and walked back to the car. I tore my eyes off the Corvette. If it was a living being, if it had eyes, I could've sworn I felt its eyes on me. "Get in," I urged. Sam's smile grew, and he slid into the car. I shut the door and took a step back.

"Many! What the heck is this!" Bobby B shouted over his shoulder. The lot supervisor scratched the back of his head, shaking his head. "I don't know, boss! Perhaps it came from shipment last week?" he suggested. I glanced back at the Corvette. That was a hidden gem. I was attacked by it already. "You like the car?" Ron jerked his chin to the car I had been staring at. "I uh..." I shook my head. "We are here for Sam." While I had been part of the Witwicky family for eight years, there was not a chance Ron would ever strike the same deal with me as he made with Sam. It was too expensive to pay half the price for two cars. It had always been that way, and it never bothered me.

I was merely fostered and grateful that they let me into their home, but I wasn't their blood. I sometimes wondered what Ron felt about me. Judy had taken me home as an eleven-year-old girl without mentioning anything to Ron. I remember the fight they had, how I had been huddled in the corner of the guest room, arms wrapped around my bony legs, starved and exhausted. I sometimes still felt that fear in my dreams. Fear of the unknown. What would become of me, and what the experiments would do to me in the long run. Maybe I'd die in a few years, or perhaps their experiment worked, and I was immortal.

"How much?" I had missed half the conversation Bobby B and Ron had. Popping open the hood was a challenge. Sam probably wanted to know what kind of engine was hidden beneath the bright yellow and black. Hoping there was an engine to begin with. "Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, the timeless lineage, the custom racing stripes – five grand." Ron nearly choked on his breath. "You're lying." Bobby B snapped his head to me. "This car isn't worth five grand. Nor is any car in this lot." The male stepped into my space. His sweat worked its way up my nostrils. "Listen, lady... I have been in the business for years. How old are you? Eighteen? I'd say I know more about it than you. So shut it, will you?" My eyes narrowed.

I clenched my jaws. This was ridiculous. He was overprizing the car. A car he didn't even seem to recognize. "We are not going above four," Ron finally said. "Kid, outta the car." Sam wiped his head in his direction. "But you said cars pick their drivers." Bobby B. Placed his hands on the car. "Yeah, well, sometimes they pick drivers with a cheap father." Understatement. Turning, Bobby pointed at a half-gutted pacer. "Well, this one here is beautiful—" he was cut off mid-sentence. The Camaro's passenger door swung open and slammed into the other car, nearly crushing Bobby. The male struggled to regain his balance and stumbled back — his eyes bulging.

I stepped back as well. Anger slithered down my spine, but I couldn't pinpoint from whom it came. "What about the Corvette?" I gestured at the gleaming silver car and couldn't help myself. Bobby blinked, then looked and scratched his head. "How much is it worth?" I ignored Ron. Bobby strolled over to where the car was parked and bit down on his lip. I was almost anxious. Anything above three grand was out of order for me. I didn't have that much money to spend, and I didn't have 'Ron' to help me pay for it.

"It's a Corvette and considered the state... I'd say seven grand." My eyes widened. "Seven!" I wish I could say it wasn't worth seven grand, but it most likely was, and I didn't catch him on a lie. It felt like my heart was just ripped from my chest. "I can give you three." Bobby B. laughed. The asshole was amused with me. "Like I said, darling. What do you know about cars?" He walked past me, his shoulder nearly slamming into mine. I wanted to shout after him that I did know about cars, but what's the point?

Seven grand for this car. Bobby B. made his way over to another vehicle, and it was then that I heard it. The noise. It went straight through my skull, and I barely listened to the shattering of glass and the honking of cars. I sank to my knees, covering my ears. As soon as it came, it stopped. My heart thundered in my chest. "When I regained my footing, I saw the damage that had been done. Thousands of shards shimmered in the afternoon sun.

      Ron was already herding Sam back to his car. Bobby B. called out for them, his face absolutely mortified. "Four grand, and the car is yours!" Sam's eyes widened. Ron quirked a brow, studied the possessed car, and sighed. "Fine. Four grand."