Birth of an Angel

“-And it just crashed! Do you think you can fix it?”

“I’ll have it done in a nanosec, Mr. Detrin.” I assured, noting the stress wrinkles around the man’s eyes.

“It won’t be too hard.”

Sitting in front of the older man’s computer, I tapped the keys experimentally to see if the screen had frozen.

Fortunately, it wasn’t, and I easily got through to the computer’s programming software from there.

There was an error in the coding, and once that was cleared up, everything ran smoothly.

“All done.”

I couldn’t help a smirk at the astonished look on Mr. Detrin’s face.

“Already?”

“I said it would be easy.”

You’d think after fixing every computer in this school would make people trust me…

“Well, you can head back to your teacher now, I suppose.” Mr. Detrin replied, sitting at his computer in front of the group of bored sixth-graders.

Nodding in answer, I picked up my bag, checking that the Batman pins were secure.

Once in the hall, I hesitated.

School would be over in about ten minutes, and my English teacher, Ms. York, liked to yell at her students for being ‘illiterate monkeys’ around this time.

Considering that she didn’t like me (I’m nowhere near as good with writing as I am with math or computers), I decided to just head outside early.

I was on good terms with the hall monitors (after giving them demos of my games to try out, they never bothered to look anywhere else), so there were no worries about getting caught.

Unfortunately, this gave me time to think; a dangerous pastime where I’m concerned.

Last time I was allowed free-time to think, I blew up the toilet in my house and made the stairs into a waterslide.

Only this time around, I had something more troubling on my mind than whether or not I could even fit a firecracker into the toilet; my dreams.

They were the driving force behind my newest game, ‘Battle for Earth’, ever since I hit what my mother calls the ‘my-daughter’s-becoming-a-woman-quick-give-her-The-Talk’ phase.

Every time I close my eyes, all I ever see is that strange metal world bursting into flames and the burning red eyes of that metal monster.

What is that world I keep seeing?

Is it even real?

I can’t…

I can’t remember.

The bell’s shrill scream distracted me from my worries, and I kicked it into high gear out the front doors.

Dad always picked me up before heading to the high school for Sam, and he didn’t like me being late.

He was easy enough to spot, honking his horn and waving as he was, and I ran up to the car, swinging my bag into the backseat.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?”

“Fine.” I lied, buckling my seatbelt once inside.

We pulled away as the middle school emptied of students eager for summer vacation, just before the streets were clogged with school buses.

Relieved that the long wait had been avoided, I relaxed into the car seat.

There was a sea of students milling around in front of the high school, and Sam definitely wasn’t among them.

Trust me, I would have noticed.

“Where’s your brother?” Dad grumbled impatiently.

“Probably begging for that last ‘A’.” I guessed, shrugging.

What can I say?

My brother really wants a car.

“Hey, dad! Hey, Keke!”

Speak of the devil, and he shall come…

Sam’s bag slammed into my face as he practically scrambled into the passenger seat, saying something about “It’s an ‘A-’, but it’s still an ‘A’!” at about a hundred miles per hour.

“Alright, alright.” Dad replied, giving in.

“It’s an ‘A’.”

“WHOO-HOO!“ Sam cheered, pumping his fist into the air as we pulled away from the school.

“You know you’re gonna have to drive me around from now on, right?”

His joy turned in despair, and he smacked his head on the dashboard as I laughed.

It’s a little sister’s job to do that, after all.

“You’re a horrible human being!”

“And you’re stuck with me, sucker!”

Dad only laughed as Sam stuck his tongue out at me and I kicked the back of his seat, used to our antics.

I may torture the poor boy, but he was still my brother, you know?

“I’ve got a little surprise for you, son.” Dad said, suspiciously happy as we passed a Porsche dealership.

“No, no, no, no! Dad! Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Sam practically squealed, looking ready to jump out and hug the nearest car on the lot.

“Yeah, I am. You’re not getting a Porsche!”

My laughter drowned out Sam’s angry grumblings as I fell onto my side, unable to sit up and gasping for air.

By the time I pulled myself up, dad was turning into a ‘Bolivia’s Used Car Lot’.

I don’t know how it could be a car lot with all the rusted-out husks lying around…

Swinging myself over the door, I started perusing the car options as Sam complained.

“You ever seen ‘The Forty Year Old Virgin’?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, you see this? This is the forty year old virgin, and this is the fifty year old virgin!”

Crybaby.

Sure, none of these cars looked like they belonged in car magazines, but at least they’d run.

At lease, I hope they run…

Ignoring my family (a special talent that sometimes backfires), I tried to find something that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

Once I had stepped around the massive, rusted hulk of what was once a truck, I found it.

A yellow ‘76 Chevy Camaro with black racing stripes.

I think I melted.

Picking my jaw up off the ground, I maneuvered around the rest of the cars in the lot to reach the beauty of a car, grinning the entire way.

“How’d a beauty like you end up in a dump like this?” I wondered aloud, running a hand over the hood in wonder.

The frame seemed to vibrate, but I just chalked it up to my own excitement as I peeked inside through the passenger-side window.

Whistling in admiration, I pat the well-worn leather interior and leaned further in.

There was an air-freshener hanging from the rearview mirror with a bee on it and the words ‘BEE-OTCH’, and I couldn’t help giggling.

“Cute.”

“Keke, are you talking to yourself again?”

“It’s the only way I get intelligent conversation.” I defended, pouting at my dumbstruck older brother through the windshield.

“Whoa! How’d you find it?”

“The car’s not an ‘it’.” I informed matter-of-factly.

“The car’s a ‘he’, and I am naming him Bee.”

“Dude, this is supposed be my new car!”

“And everything that’s yours is mine.”

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“From talking to myself. It works wonders.”

I couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore as he gave himself a face-palm, and the car actually seemed to shake under my forearms.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“I think we established that a long time ago.” I reminded him, smiling as Sam investigated the Camaro from the other side.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s-.”

Sam immediately noticed my glare, and stuttered to correct himself.

“I-I mean, I-I think he’s great! He!”

Even though I could definitely hurt him for referring to this beautiful car as an ‘it’ (years of martial arts certainly gives a girl options), I didn’t want Sam to crap himself next to Bee.

This car is way too amazing to have to go through something like that.

Once he was sure I wouldn’t leap through the car to strangle him senseless, Sam opened the door to sit in the driver’s seat.

“Feels good.”

“He should.” I scolded, joining him inside the Camaro.

The seats were like heaven, and I just sunk into the leather without a care in the world.

“If you don’t get Bee, I’m going to kill you.”

“Like I’d get anything else they have here!” Sam replied, trying to sound insulted even through his laughter.

“You’ve done stupider things before.”

“You jumped out that window first! I was trying to keep you from getting hurt!”

“I’m sure dad’s car appreciated the thought.”

Before Sam could try to defend himself, dad had arrived and asked the owner how much the Camaro cost.

“Well, judging by the custom paintjob-.”

“It’s custom-faded?” Sam piped up, rudely interrupting the man.

“I’ll let you have it for five thousand.”

“No, I’m not going above four thousand.” Dad insisted.

“The door just closed. Get out of the car.”

“Wait a minute. I thought you said ‘the car chooses its owner’.” Sam protested.

“Yeah, well sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father!”

As the car lot owner moved to the old VW Bug sitting on my side of the car, I decided it was time for drastic measures.

“Daddy…” I whined, getting his attention.

Pouting and getting some tears going with the memory of my goldfish Sunny getting flushed down the toilet before his time, I sniffled.

“I really like this one. Can’t we get this car, please? I’ll help Sam take care of him, I promise!”

The car seemed to hum in agreement like a begging puppy, but I figured it was probably just my overactive imagination kicking into gear.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not paying five thousand dollars for your brother’s first car.”

Fighting down the urge to scowl as Sam got out, I sighed, patting the dashboard.

“Guess you’re not coming home with us after all, big guy…”

The passenger door swung open only a moment later, slamming into the VW Bug the lot owner had been trying to sell Sam.

I’m pretty sure my eyes were the size of dinner plates.

“Keke!”

“It wasn’t me!” I shouted, holding my hands up like a cornered convict.

Trying to distract them from the damage (I’d cry if I didn’t love the Camaro so much; that little Bug was pretty nice), the owner was coaxing dad over to another car.

The radio clicking on stopped me from getting out.

Are radios supposed to do that?

I jumped as the door closed and the window rolled up, digging my fingers into the leather seat.

“What-?”

A high-frequency shriek escaped the radio, and I covered my ears on instinct as glass shattered.

Once I found the courage to peek out the window, I covered my mouth to hide a smile at all of the shattered windshields and the panicked look on the lot owner’s face.

“F-Four thousand!”

Staring at the radio, I couldn’t help a giggle.

“Good boy.”