F.E.A.R.

"Trent!" I screamed in protest as my twin brother, Trent, picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. “What the hell, you asshole?”

“We’re picking up Mikaela and then heading to the lake,” he answered, throwing me in the back seat of our hummer. I use the word “our” very loosely here. It was very apparent that it was his. He picked it. He drove it. It was only presented to us because it looks pretty shitty, when you buy one kid a hummer, and the other clothes that you know they don’t like.

I made a noise of disgust, moving to get out. “The last thing I want to do is sit there and watch you and Mikaela make out, while your dickhead friends irritate the shit out of me.

“Too bad,” he said, shutting the door, nearly slamming my leg in it. “Cause Mom said she needs time to herself, before Nan and Pops get here. Believe me; I already tried leaving you here.”

I glowered. Time to herself. She had the whole fucking day to herself from eight until six every damn day. Dad went to work. Trent and I went to school. Afterwards, he had football practice, and I had work, and if he didn’t have to work, I was either dragged to watch him practice or out and about on my own.

It wasn’t like she had a fucking job. She didn’t clean the damn house. She paid people to do that. She didn’t cook. Unless we ordered out, dinner was always made by either my dad or me. She literally did nothing, except to go to her fucking social events.

I sulked like a child in the back seat, glowering at the world through the window.

Fortunately, I had my keys and my purse, Trent having had enough sense to throw those in the back seat with me. I grabbed my bag, pulling out my current read, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz, and picked up, where I had left off earlier.

We got Mikaela, who looked back and greeted me, shooting me a smile, before listening attentively to whatever bullshit that came out of my brother’s mouth.

I don’t think I would ever be able to understand Mikaela Banes. She had a decent head on her shoulders at least more so than most of the people my brother hung out with. She wasn’t stupid. She pulled pretty good grades, and while she was very much a part of the popular crowd, but she was less... severe than the others. She didn’t have the same mean streak as them. That being said, she never really went against the others either.

We got to the lake, where my brother’s friends were all waiting.

Trent and Mikaela got out, become part of the group. I put the Hummer’s windows down and draped stretched my legs across the backseat, leaning against the door furthering my place in my novel.

A while later, a loud engine pulled me from the world that Diaz had created.

I looked up, quickly spotting the source, an old camaro. It yellow with black racing stripes, and was pretty beat up. In its day, it had probably looked pretty bad ass. Then again with some tlc, it’d probably still could. It was driven by the Witwicky kid. His stupid friend, Miles, hopped out of the passenger’s seat, proceeding to scramble up the tree.

I shook my head, marking my place, shoving my book into my bag and getting out of the car.

"You know, I thought I recognized you,” Trent said. “You tried out for the football team last year, right?"

I cringed at the memory. I had been forced to sit in the bleachers and watch. Witwicky had gotten hit hard and often. Coach had to call his mom to come and get him.

"Oh, no, no, that... No. That, that wasn't like a real try-out. I was researching a book I was writing,” Witwicky tried cover. No one bought it.

"Oh, yeah?" Trent questioned.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? What's it about? Sucking at sports?" My brother grinned.

I wasn't impressed by my twin's remark. It was better than his usual comebacks, but it still sucked.

"No, it's about the link between brain damage and football."

That caused me to snort. Trent shot me a glare.

"No, it... it's a good book. Your friends will love it. You know, it's got mazes in it and, you know, little coloring areas, sections, pop-up pictures. It's... a lot of fun," Witwicky elaborated.

I openly laughed at that. I liked this kid.

"Shut up!" Trent snapped at me. A few of his friends ohhh'ed.

I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms over my chest. "Excuse me?"

"Shut up!” he repeated. “You deaf or something?”

“Or something,” I replied.

“God, I wish I was a only child,” he griped.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

I couldn’t help the sense of satisfaction that crept up my spine as a plan formed in my head.

"What the hell are you smiling at?"

“Nothing,” I answered, turning and walking away.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“None of your fucking business."

“If you leave, I’m not driving you home.”

“I know. Have fun explaining to Gran, why how you could just leave your darling sister to walk seven miles home by herself.”

“Brent!”

“Buh-bye, fuck head,” I called over my shoulder.

"Brenton!" he screamed angrily.

I flipped him off.

A few short minutes later, I heard my name being called. "Brent!" I looked back and saw Mikaela jogging up to me.

“I don’t care what you say, I’m not-“

“Mind if I walk with you?” she asked.

“Oh this ought to be good. What’d he say?”

“I asked if I could drive, and his 'little bunny could hop in the backseat'."

We started walking when we heard a car come up behind us. Another glance over my shoulder revealed Witwicky in the camaro. Miles was gone. I thought about the boy. I didn't live to far away from him. 'I might have to pay him a visit sometime.' I thought. I tried to be friends with as many people who hated Trent as possible. It never really worked with me always hanging around him and all, but oh well.

"We've got company.”

"Mikaela!" he called through the open window. "It's Sam Witwicky."

I grinned, realizing what this was. 'He likes her.'

He went on blubbering about giving her a ride home. He slipped up in the beginning saying he wanted to “ride her home.” I let out a laugh at that. The boy needed a serious confidence boost.

"Bianca, you can come too, if you'd like," he offered.

It was a tempting offer. I didn’t actually want to walk the whole way home, and I could probably hide out at my friend Brook’s house for a few hours, before coming home, so that I could sell my story. Plus, there was something extremely fascinating about watching the boy embarrass himself. It was kind of like a car crash. No matter how hard you try to look away, you just can’t stop staring.

“Nah. You two go ahead. I’m fine.” I wasn’t gonna mess up the game.

“Brent, it’s seven miles to your house,” Mikaela said. “Just get in the car.”

I sighed, sliding into the car, behind Mikaela.

I sank back into the leather seats. They were worn, but the good kind of worn. They were broken in enough to be comfortable, but didn't lack support. They just needed wiped down. The whole interior needed a solid cleaning.

"I can't believe that I'm here right now," Mikaela said.

I was about to smack her upside her head. I wasn't the nicest person, but I wasn't ignorant enough to say something like that to the person's face.

"You can duck down if you want. I mean, it won't hurt my feelings."

"Oh, no no no. I didn't mean here with you. I just meant here, like, in this situation. The same situation that I'm always in. 'Cause, I don't know, I guess I just have a weakness for hot guys, for tight abs and really big arms," she explained.

"Big arms?" Sam asked.

"You have a thing for cocky douche bags,” I chirped.

"Well, there's a couple new additions in the car. Like, I just put that light there... “ He pointed back, flexing his arm. I rolled my eyes and stifled a laugh. "And that disco ball." He was still flexing. "And so the light reflects off the disco ball."

Mikaela awkwardly tried to start some small talk, only took look like a self absorbed bitch, seeing as she had no clue that she and Sam had a shit ton of classes together.

"Your car is awesome," I said, approvingly, trying to lessen the awkwardness that had settled in.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than the engine sputtered and stall. The radio came to life, “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gay blaring.

Sam started to panic. We pulled into a make out point and of course the awkwardness came back.

He kicked the radio, fiddled with the knobs, before kicking it some more. Not exactly how I would’ve gone about turning it off.

“Car didn’t exactly deserve that,” I mumbled.

Sam was desperately trying to assure Mikaela that this was not intentional, that he wasn’t that kind of guy.

She wasn’t even concerned, telling him to pop that hood, before getting out.

I stayed in the car. I might have read quite a few issues of Car and Driver, but that did not mean that I understood it.

After catching Sam, mouth “Oh my god,” I tuned out that conversation.

My eyes kept wondering over the details of the car.

Mikaela’s efforts seemed to be in vain, the car refusing to come to life. "You know what, I'm just gonna walk," she said, wiping off her hands.

"Well walking's healthy." Sam sounded so damn defeated.

"Bianca?" she asked.

“Nah, I’ll stick with Sammy here. I still have a while, before I have to make my grand entrance.”

“Alright.”

With that she was on the move once more.

Sam hurriedly hopped in and tried it again. He kept muttering things to himself. The boy rambled so much. It started up, and he ran put the hood back down. The radio started on its own (again).

I chuckled at the song. I leaned forward between the seats, scream/singing out the window to Mikaela. “Baby come back!”

She was reluctant, but got back in the car.

I pulled out my book, while Sam and Mikaela chatted up front, until he pulled up to her house.

"There it is," he said.

"I had fun. Um, so you know thanks for listening."

"Oh yeah. Yeah."

"You- you think I'm shallow huh?" she asked.

"You shallow? No, no no no no. I think that there's a lot more than meets the eye with you."

That seemed to make her happy. "Okay."

“Yeah."

"I'll see you at school. Bye Bianca."

"Bye," I spoke up. She got out and started walking to her house.

"Stupid. That was a stupid line," Sam scolded himself.

"It's nicer than anything Trent’s ever said to her.

I carefully crawled up in the front seat.

"So Sam, how long have you had a thing for Mikaela?" I asked.

"Where do you Iive?" he asked ignoring my question.

I gave him my address. "We don't live that far away from each other."

We were about two blocks away from my house, when I told him to let me out.

"Are you sure?"

"I have to make it look like I walked home. Now go home and fall asleep and dream about Mikaela,” I teased.

"I'm not sure, but I might just like your brother better."

“You wound me, Witwicky.”

He drove down the street and I walked to my house. I pulled out a water bottle from my bag and used it to make it look like I had sweat. I walked into my house and was met by my mother, father and grandparents.

“Brent,” my grandmother greeted me, getting up to pull me into a hug. My grandparents were my world. They owned a midsized chain of book stores and had instilled my passion for literature in me at a young age. They got me on a different level than my mother and father. It was like they were in my head. I was pretty sure that they knew me better than I knew myself.

“Hi, Gran. Sorry I’m gross.”

“Oh, hun I don’t care.”

I was passed to my grandfather. “Hey, kiddo.”

“S’up, Pop?”

"Where's your brother?" my mother asked.

"I don't know."

"How don't you know? What did you do?"

I rolled my eyes. Of course I had to have done something. Trent never did anything wrong.

"I didn't do anything. Your son left me at the park. I had to walk home."

"I doubt he left you for no reason.”

This time she was right. He had left, because I had, but this was a rare instance. Usually he started whatever it was that caused our fights. I tried to mind my own business.

At the same time my grandmother had his me with a, “Poor baby. Go freshen up. Your father said dinner’ll be ready in fifteen, we’ll catch up then.”

“And we’ll have to talk to your brother later,” Pop added.

I beamed at them, heading up to my room.