Sam and Skye sat in their class, waiting for Sam's turn. Skye boredly drew in a notebook of hers, imagining her and her brothers new and first car. She was hoping for a bright royal blue or blood red car of any type. She looked up as her brothers name was called. She glanced over at Sam, who was getting up with a brown bag filled with items. She hadn't been marked yet, though she was sure she would get an A, like many of her other marks.

   "Sorry, I have a lot of stuff." Sam apologized to the class, and a few students chuckled.

   I rolled my eyes, when Trent picking up an elastic band caught my eye. I huffed in annoyance. Trent was one of those typical boys, where they looked hot and all, but they were a real prick. He was constantly doing things to Sam, and we were just sick of it. Sam started to say something before Trent shot a spit ball at Sam, who immediately looked up rubbing his neck.

   "Who did-who did that?," Mr. Hosney, our teacher, asked. Both he and Sam looked around, Trent looking at the others. "People, responsibility! And Miss Witwicky, please, get up there and help out."

   I sighed, and got up after closing my notebook and shoving it into my bag. Sam and I were siblings, so of course I had to get up and share information about our family. I walked over to Sam and got mentally prepared to be embarrassed. Sammy was very embarrassing, though he had good intents.

   "Okay, so, um. For our family genealogy report, we decided to do it on our great-great-grandfather who was a famous man, uh, Captain Archibald Witwicky." Sam started, glancing at me nervously.

   "A very famous explorer. In fact, he was one of the first to explore, the arctic circle," I continued, as he grabbed a map, that had labels and arrows naming different parts. "which is a big deal. In 1897, he took 41 brave sailors straight into the arctic shelf."

   I snuck a quick glance around the classroom, checking everyone's reactions so far. Most seem bored, some weren't even paying much attention to what we were saying, or the few who were somewhat focused on listening to us. I was thankful for them, they calmed my nerves a bit. Sometimes it was tiring being Sams sister, more so the fact that I'm younger. We don't really look alike anyway.

   "So that's the story, right?," he paused, allowing people to get a look at the map and get the words to sink in before folding it back up, and handing me a few items from the table where he had dumped them onto. "Here, we have some of the basic tools and instruments used by 19th century seamen."

   About half of the class chuckled, which I prayed meant that they were enjoying this presentation. The looks on their faces didn't tell me exactly what I wanted to know, so I just assumed the worst. Mr. Hosney sighed, looking bored as usual, putting up his large 'QUIET' sign. It was an odd thing, but often my classmates would listen to it. If they even noticed.

   "This here, is the quadrant which is for 80 bucks. It's all for sale, by the way,--" Sam explained, while I held an item up to show. I sucked in a breath, quietly, shocked that he was putting our great-great-grandfather's stuff for SALE!? I put it down and grabbed the next time without a word. "--like the sextant here."

   More people were listening, intrigued by the word 'sale'. I was rather bothered by it. 'Why was he putting things on for sale anyway?' I thought, but was quickly interrupted by the sound of the class chuckling at the names. Mr. Hosney once again put up the quiet sign, looking annoyed now.

   "Fifty dollars which is a bargain. They're pretty cool." Sam nodded, as if to agree with himself.

   I quickly jumped in, to hopefully keep him on track, instead of putting things for sale. "These here, are our grandfather's glasses," I gestured for the glasses, which Sam picked up and looked through, "we haven't quite gotten them appraised yet, but they've seen cool things." I added, in a slight warning tone meant for Sam. No way was he going to sell anything!

   Mr. Hosney, looking bored and annoyed, as he often was with Sam, butted in. "Are you going to sell me his liver? Mr and Ms Witwicky, this is not show and sell, this is the 11th grade. I don't think you're grandfather would be particularly proud of what you're doing." He sighed.

   "I know, I'm sorry--" I was about to apologize yet again for Sam, when he, himself, cut me off.

  "This is all going to our car funds. You can tell your folks, it's on eBay. I can take PayPal, or cold hard cash works too. An-and the compass makes a great gift for Columbus Day, too." Sam claimed.

   People laughed as Mr. Hosney threw his head back with a huff, in annoyance. I couldn't blame him. If I wasn't standing in front of my class I would have done that too. I was so going to kill Sam afterwards.

   "Sam!" Mr. Hosney said, in his warning tone, at the same time I muttered his name. He got the message, thankfully.

   "I'm sorry. Unfortunately, our great-great-grandfather, the genius that he was, ended up going blind and crazy in a pysco ward drawing these," I paused, both Sam and I picking up an old news paper each that had odd signs on them, "weird symbols and babbling on about some giant ice man that he thought he discovered.--" the bell rung, saving us from anymore embarrassment.

   Students got up to start leaving as they reached for their bags, and Mr. Hosney called out, "Okay! Might be a pop quiz tomorrow, might not! Sleep in fear tonight."

   You could hear the shuffles of feet walking out the door, and groaning of the possibility of a pop quiz. "50, 40, 30--" Sam begun listening prices for the glasses he still held.

   "Sam!" I hissed, glaring at him as I grabbed things and put them back into the bag while grabbing my own. He apologized a couple times before walking over to Mr. Hosney's desk for marking.

   "Pretty good, right?" I heard Sam ask when he stopped in front of the teachers desk. I grabbed Sams bag as well, silently hoping we get a good mark for our first car.

   I turned and headed over as the male teacher answered, "Uh, I'd say a solid B- for you and for your sister, an A."

   I smiled lightly at my mark, though I was very used to getting A's. But suddenly I frowned at the same time as Sam, both of us realizing we won't be able to get a car without a double A. I clenched my hand around Sam's bag lightly in frustration.

   Sam looked at Mr. Hosney in disbelief and shock. "A B-?" He asked.

   "Well, you were hawking your great-great-grandfather's cr** in my class." He retorted.

   "Okay. Look, okay, can you do me a favor for a second? See my father?" He asked, pointing outside towards our father in his car, as I walked away to our lockers. "He's in the green car." Sam continued, though his voice faded as I left him to deal on his own.

   I was so going to kill him if he didn't convince Mr. Hosney to give him an A of any sort. I grabbed my art notebook and notes and shoved them into my small backpack, checked my phone for any messages. I moved my long strawberry blonde with blonde highlights to see three from Mikaela.

   Yes, I was indeed friends with Sams crush, Mikaela Banes. Sam was quite jealous of it, and I kinda felt bad. My older brother wasn't noticed by her. Oh well, he just doesn't have the guts to speak to her himself. His problem. I slipped my phone into my jean shorts pocket along with my red earbuds.

   As I have probably mentioned, Sam and I don't quite look like siblings. He has short dark brown hair, I have long strawberry blonde hair with blonde highlights. Naturally. I am noticeably more pale than he was, also, completely natural. Another difference that has been pointed out more than once, I have blue eyes and he has brown. But my blue eyes are odd, because I swear, sometimes it looks almost as if they are glowing. I'm not joking.

   The only physical similarity we had were face shapes. That was it. Well, not quite. My face was more feminine looking, obviously. But, we did have a few traits we shared, and personal interests. It was as close as we got. I never questioned, assuming my hair colour came from our mother, who had short red hair.

   I walked out and sat in the shotgun seat, putting my bag onto the ground. I ditched Sam's bag at his locker when I had passed by it. I grabbed my phone to reply to the messages.

Mikaela: Hey Skye!
I got invited to a Lake party.
You are welcome to come, if you're free! Please come.

Skye: Yeah, I just got notes to go over later on and a couple of pages from Math class. First im gonna hopefully get a car. Cya there.

   "What did you get?" My dad, Ron, asked.

   I looked up at him with a proud smile, after shutting my phone off. "What I always get. An A."

   He high-fived me, grinning. At this point, it was always expected. I was surprisingly very good at practically everything. Then I saw Sam hurriedly rushing out, not even bothering to be careful as he ran down the steps towards us. He opened to the back door of dads car, scrambling to get in.

   "A-! Let's get that car!" He cheered, and I stared at him in shock. He just smirked lightly back.

  "How the h**l did you get that!?" I exclaimed.

   "Oh c'mon! You actually didn't think I'd be able to convince Mr. Hosney?" He stared at me.

   I shrugged and turned back around at the same time dad pulled away to head to wherever we were getting the car.

~~~Timeskip brought by Cybertron~~~

   We were driving by a Porsche dealership, when Sam suddenly blurted, "No! No, no, no, no, no! Dad, no!"

   I laughed, seeing as he believed we were getting a car there. Dad's a freaking cheapo, no way he'd ever buy us anything there. As much as I wished, it was not going to happen.

   "What? You actually thought I would buy you a Porsche as you and Skye's first car?" Dad questioned, amused.

   He sighed and muttered something to dad, as the car pulled past, into a boring used car dealership. You could see from here that all the cars were old and rusty looking. But, if we could find a decent one and something in the budget range, then fine. We could always fix it up as needed.

   "What is this? You said half a car, not half a piece of cr**!" Sam exclaimed, being the typical complainer.

   "When I was your age, I was happy with 4 wheels and an engine." Dad pointed out.

   "Okay, let me explain this to you. Ever seen a 40-year-old virgin?" Sam sighed, and dad nodded so he continued, "That's what this is. And this is a 50-year-old virgin." He huffed, gesturing around him.

   I threw my hands up to my face so they nearly rested on my cheeks and eyes, and I sighed. "Oh, my god, Sammy, really!?"

   He looked at me, and huffed. "What? We need a good first car, Skye!" He explained.

   I shook my head at him and walked away to look around. I saw a little store where I assumed the owner would be. I looked over there, and saw lots of cars parked nearby, so I started there.

   "No sacrifice, no victory." I heard dad behind me.

   "Yeah, I know, the old Witwicky motto." Sam replied, and I could just imagine him rolling his eyes. I heard the boys come over to join me.

   "Gentleman and lady!" A tall brown skinned male came from the store, approaching us with outstretched hands. "Bobby Bolivia. Like the country, but without the runs." He introduced, laughing, shaking our hands.   [A/N, I am not racist, btw!]

   "Hi. I have my son, and daughter here. They're looking to find their first car." Dad nodded, acknowledging him.

   "You come to see me?" Bobby asked, amused.

   "Had to..." Sam sighed and I mumbled.

   "That makes us family. Uncle Bobby B., baby. Uncle Bobby B.." He replied.

   "Sam, and my sister Skye." Sam introduced, as we both shook hands with Bobby.

   "Sam, Skye, let me tell you something. Your first enchilada of freedom awaits under one of those hoods. Let me tell you something, kids, the driver don't pick the car, the car pick the driver. Some mystical bond between man, and machine. Kids, I'm a lot of things, but liar isn't one of them. Especially not in front of my Mammy. That's my Mammy, heyyy Mammy!" Bobby chuckled, turning and pointing towards a woman, who then proceeded to flip him off. "Oh, don't be like that. If I had a rock I'd bust yo head, bi***." Bobby shook his head.

   'Wow, quite the mouthful of words there at the end... Oh, man. And we're buyin' from this guy. Who I am to judge though?' I thought to myself, keeping a straight face.

   "She deaf, you know." He laughed, turning back to us and walking towards two faded yellow cars.

   The one on the right with two black racing stripes caught my eyes. It maybe be faded and slightly rusted around the edges by the wheels, but so far it seemed to be the best one. I walked forward away from Sam and Bobby to look for myself. It was a Camaro. I hopped into the drivers seat, as Bobby continued to talk. Sam then jumped in the passenger seat. We both looked at each other, impressed.

   "Wow, its great in here, not bad outside. What do you think Skye?" Sam commented.

   "I think-- wait, no, I know it feels amazing. Looks decent as well." I answer, wiping some dust away from the horn button on the steering wheel, to see an odd symbol. I swear I saw that symbol somewhere. Maybe my dreams? And there was a disco ball, along with a little bee that said 'BEE-OTCH'.

   "How much?" I heard dad ask, and I hoped it was in our budget.

   "Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels, and custom paint job--" Bobby started.

   "Yeah, but-but it's faded!" I exclaim, looking out Sam's window.

   He leaned down to look at us. "Yeah... but it's custom."

   "It's custom faded?" I blinked in disbelief, disappointed that we may not get this car.

   "Well, it's your first car, I wouldn't expect you to understand." The man said, and stood up to speak to Dad.

   I glared in his direction, about to yell something along the lines of, 'What the f***!? You gotta be freaking kidding!' but Sam saw that look and quickly covered my mouth before I could even mutter a word.

   "Five grand." Bobby B. announced.

   Dad shook his head, "Not paying over 4. Sorry."

   "Okay, now get outta the car." Bobby stated, and both Sam and I stared at him.

   "No, no, no! You said the cars pick their drivers!" Sam told him.

   "Yeah, well, sometimes cars pick a driver with a cheap a** father. Get out of the car." Bobby instructed, patting Sams door. "Now this one here..." I didn't bother to listen to anyone this time.

  "Thanks a lot for being cheap, dad. You're lucky Sams here." I muttered under my breath.

   Sam got out of the car first and when I didn't get out immediately, walked to my side and opened the door with a sigh. I looked at the strange icon on the steering wheel before getting out, shutting the door behind me. Though, just as the door shut, the passenger door popped open and hit the one the Bobby was currently in. The little car slid over from the force of the door, and into a stand with some bottle looking things, which fell over to the side.

   "Sheesh, holy cow. You alright?" Dad asked, though I secretly hoped he wasn't.

   "No, no, no, no worries. I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out. Hey Manny!" He got out and called to someone. "Get your clown curves down here with some hammers and come clean this stuff out, baby!" He laughed. "See, this one over here was my favourite. Came all the way from Alabama."

   Suddenly, I heard the radio say, "get down." And I did, thankfully in time too. As windows around the area shattered and alarms went off, Sam, dad, and Bobby B. got down, covering their heads. I was covered beside the yellow Camaro I originally wanted, and I was surprised to not feel any glass shattering onto me.

   When all the glass stopped spraying everywhere and the car alarms silenced, we all started to get up, looking around. Bobby seem shocked and horrified. Then he quickly spun around to face us.

   "Four thousand!" He called, putting up 4 fingers.

   I smiled like an idiot, "Yes!"

[A/N, 2948 words]