We Are So Screwed

I woke up and saw my parents sitting awkwardly in the corner of the room. Standing in front of the door were Simmons and Banachek. Slater was slouching in her chair, glaring at the two dickheads.

“Ah holy fuck I hurt,” I said. Slater turned her head to look at me, cracking her neck.

“Bout damn time you woke up,” she said.

“Oh my baby!” my mother screamed. She got up and ran as fast as her six inch stilettos would carry her to me. She ran a hand through my hair. “How are you feeling? That was a stupid question. Look at your face! That scar is going to be huge. I promise as soon as you’re well enough, I’ll take you to see Dr.Wahl. Then we can go shopping and if you want we can take that car of yours to the track. I’ll even buy you more of those hideous shoes you like so much. The-“

“Mother, you’re smothering me,” I said.

“Carrie, she’s concussed and has a few broken bones. She’s not terminally ill,” my dad said.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Carrie what you’re doing isn’t a hug it’s a motor boat,” Slater said, just as I was about to.

“Ma, get your tits out of my face.”

“I already lost one baby, I’m not losing another,” she blubbered.

I stiffened. She let me go, having realized her slip up.

Slater walked over and leaned down to hug me, which was weird, because she knew how much I actually hated hugging people. “Don’t tell them shit,” she said.

“Get off,” I replied, giving her a slight nod to how her my agreement.

I tried to act like everything was okay, but my mother’s statement had thrown me off.

I forced the bloody images out of my head and tried to focus on the here and now. When I pulled myself together (somewhat), I looked up and saw all eyes on me.

“I’ve already answered your questions to the best of my abilities. I don’t remember anything,” I said to Banachek and Simmons.

“We’re just here to return your belongings,” Banachek said. He held out a bag.

“Cause surely the fuck I want my bloody ass clothes.”

“There’s your phone, you’re shoes aren’t bloody, your iPod, and your keys.” They turned and left the room, but I knew they’d be back.

I was silent then something occurred to me. “Fuck! How bad is my baby?”

“We’re gonna have to get you a new one,” my dad said.

“Damn it,” I swore.

“We’ll have a no one, customized just like the old, before you’re allowed to drive, so don’t worry.”

“And how long is that gonna be?” I asked.

“Doctor said about six weeks.”

“Fuck! When the hell am I getting out of here?”

“Tomorrow,” Slater replied.

“And we’ll be here bright and early,” my mother promised.

I nodded and yawned.

“I’m just gonna sleep all day. You don’t have to stick around.

“Fine, we’ll leave,” my dad said.

My mother started to protest. “But-“

“Bye,” I said.

“Damn pushy child,” my mother muttered.

“She gets that from her mother,” my dad said.

My mom turned and glared at my dad. “She gets it from her father.”

“Eh you like it.”

“Damn right I do,” she giggled, leaning up and kissing him.

“ALRIGHT GET THE FUCK OUT!” I screamed, covering my eyes. I ignored the pain screaming caused me.

They pulled apart. “Alright, we’re going. Sheesh!” My mother raised her hands in surrender.

They walked out, and I shook my head. “AND AT LEAST MAKE IT HOME, YOU HORN DOGS!” I called, knowing that they could still hear me.

“That was disturbing,” Slater said.

“No fucking shit. Where are your parents?” I asked her.

“I told them to go home.”

“Seriously?”

“What I actually said was Barbra take you skank ass out of my room, take your bitch ass mother with you. Bye Daddy. I love you.”

“Sounds more like it,” I said.

“So have you noticed that Banachek and Simmons look like-“

“Banachek and Simmons?” I finished. “They look exactly like they do in the fucking movie.”

“Alright so ladies-“

“Simmons get the fuck out, you already know everything I know,” I bitched.

“We want to know more about this movie,” Simmons said. “Tell me did Casey like it?”

I felt as if I had the wind knocked out of me.

“Get out!” Slater screamed. They just looked at her. “I’m not joking! Get the fuck out!”

“You don’t have jurisdiction here Blondie!” Simmons yelled.

“I don’t need fucking jurisdiction. Get the fuck out. And my name is Slater. I suggest you fucking use it.” Slater’s words came in in what was practically a growl.

“Simmons? Banachek?”

“Oh, so now Heat Miser decides to speak.”

I ignored Simmons. “Do you know how it feels to lose everything you care about? Do you? You don’t. You don’t know a damn thing about Casey. I think it’s in your best interest, if you never bring him up again, because I’ll make sure that you know how that feels.”

“Are you threatening a federal officer? We’ll throw your ass in jail. Not even Blondie’s law over here will be able to get you out.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise,” I said, my voice not leaving the calm almost pleasant tone I started with. “One, I will make good on.” My voice took on a hard, icy edge and I narrowed my green eyes dangerously.

Knowing my history to having read my file, he back away slowly, with Banachek following.

“This isn’t over Red, Blondie. I promise you that.”

“We’ll see whose word means more,” I replied.

“B?” Slater asked hesitantly.

“I want to hurt him. I want to so bad that it hurts me like a physical force.” I was taking deep breaths, but my hands were curled in fists at my sides.

“Just go to sleep. Your parents dropped off your shit, and we can go home tomorrow,” she said. “I’m gonna go get you something to eat, and if a nurse tries to say I can’t, then I’m gonna punch her.”

I picked up the remote that was beside me. I flipped to the news. I looked at the date at the top of the corner. ’5/12/07’

“What the hell?” I grabbed my bag from where Simmons put it and pulled out my phone. It was the very first iPhone. I thought about it for a little bit. In 2007 I had gotten my iPhone a little over a month before it came out.

I looked over at the bag that my parents had brought. It was sitting on the chair on the other side of the room. Just then Slater came back.

“So it’s so weird here. Everything that’s a dollar is actually a dollar, not like a dollar twenty-five or something.”

“Hand me that bag,” I said, pointing to it. She handed it over. I dug around until I pulled out my PDA, not a PDA smart phone, a straight up PDA and PDA only.

“I thought you quit carrying that thing.”

“I did the day the iPhone was released. I kept it until then even though I already had one.” The gears were turning and there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach that was creeping its way through the rest of me.

“B, what’s going on?”

“Hand me my chart,” I instructed.

She just looked at me.

“God damn it slater, hand me my fucking chart!”

She handed it to me, and I flipped through it. I looked over it. My admission was dated 2007.

“Name: Blake Renee DeVille, Gender: Female, Race: Caucasian, Date of Birth: 03/09/1989 (Aged 18)”

“Slater, it’s 2007,” I said.

“What?”

“My charts, they’re dated 2007, so is the news. Plus, I still have a PDA. Remember I kept it, until the iPhone was officially released, and I have an iPhone, the first one.” I reached up and touched my nose. “No septum.”

I looked at Slate. “Dude, your arm!” I screamed.

“What?” She looked down at her arm. It had been covered in ink, but now there was nothing.

“HOLY FUCK! WHERE DID THEY GO?!” she screamed. She held her arm away from the rest of her body as if it and it alone was diseased.

“You didn’t start on the other arm until you were nineteen. You were in the chair, when I came in to get my nose done. It says I’m eighteen, and I’m missing the damn piercing.”

“Are you sure they just didn’t take it out?”

“Are you sure they just didn’t take the ink out?”

“Alright, I get your point. How in the hell could we have gona back to 2007?”

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Well what do we do?” she said.

“WISH ON A FUCKING STAR! WHAT THE FUCK MAKES YOU THINK I HAVE AN IDEA?!”

“CALM YOUR TITS, BITCH!” she yelled at me.

I narrowed my eyes at her. She returned the looked. We sat there glowering at each other for a good five minutes, before I began to work up a growl.

“You know, normal little kids teach themselves how to play games and jump rope? Nope, not you. Your crazy ass taught yourself how to growl like some fucking animal.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever be able to comprehend THE FUCK I’M NOT GIVING!”

“Fuck your shit. Bitch eat your food and calm your ass down. I’m gonna try to figure something out. If I can’t do it soon, well we have at least three months.”

“At least three months?”

“That’s how long it’s gonna take for you ribs to fully heal.”

“Three fucking months? Are you fucking serious? Of all of the fucking shit…” I went on and on. Slater went and investigated and only came back looking pissed off and tired. She settled into the chair and fell asleep. I sat and watched TV until around four in the morning, when I finally passed out.



“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said looking at our living room it wasn’t unpacked at all.

“Shit, we just moved in like three weeks ago,” Slate said, remembering back.

“But our rooms should be done,” I said. I slipped out of my shoes.

“Only you would be discharged from the hospital in fucking heels.” Slater rolled her eyes.

“Not true there’s my mother, your mother, your sister. Point is that I’m not the only one and even if I feel like shit, I’m gonna look damn good doing it.”

“You’re so shallow.”

“As a kiddie pool,” I responded.

“At least my room is down stairs. It’s much easier to walked down than go up.”

“Come on, I’ll help ya.”

“I can handle getting to my room on my own,” I snipped.

“Dude, you have three cracked ribs and are walking like an old ass lady. If I help you, you’ll get there faster.”

“I can manage.”

“You are stubborn as an ass.”

“I’ve been told.”

She still didn’t let up.

As I walked into the kitchen, a thought hit me. In Transformers Simmons and the rest of S-7 went through Sam’s entire house and yard. If the feeling I had was right then we needed to shut up and act normal. I changed course instead of going towards the door to the basement (my room) I went towards the junk drawer.

“Blake what the hell are you doing? You were supposed to go home and straight to bed.”

I waved Slater off. I pulled out a tablet and a pen. I scribbled down my thought. “So maybe I’m a bit paranoid, but Simmons and Banachek insisted on me saying what I said when I woke up. So if they wanted to know so badly wouldn’t they keep try to figure it the fuck out?”

“Blake, what the hell are you doing?” Slater asked.

I made a talking motion with my hand and then made a fist, telling her silently to shut up.

She rolled her eyes and pulled the tablet away from me and started reading. She looked up at me warily. Then she wrote her response. “What are you getting at?”

I smirked. She was starting to believe me. “I’m just thinking here. In the movie Simmons came to the house and had his team search the entire thing, but not closely, just looking for an energon reading. What if he came here?”

“If he came here then we’re screwed, because who the hell knows what he found. He could’ve found our entire stash of Transformers stuff.

That wasn’t really an issue. “Yo dumb ass, yeah if we don’t have piercing and tattoos how the fuck are we gonna have DVDs and shit for a movie that hasn’t come out?”

“Fuck off. I didn’t think about that.”

“You’re such a blonde.”

“Yes, yes I am. I’m assuming since you started writing that you think our house has been bugged.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“I got it covered. You go to your room and crawl in bed and stay there.”

“What are you my mother?” I asked.

“Yes, yes I am,” she replied walking off.

I carefully went down the stairs to my room. I changed into my pajamas. I grabbed a dark silver nail polish, a nail file, nail polish remover, scissors, some cotton balls and Q-tips. I laid down on my bed. I began to scrape the old chipped black polish from my nails before completely cleaning of my nails with the nail polish remover. I filed them all square. That’s when Slater came back down looking smug.

She held up six little bugs. I grabbed the empty glass I kept for the used Q-tips and cotton balls. I dumped out the red colored cotton and tossed it in the garbage can next to my bed. I poured the nail polish into the glass. I held it to Slater. She dropped the first of the bugs in it. It sparked and there was a little poof of smoke and it fizzled out. We shook it around, before I looked up at her. “Do you really think I’m gonna fuck up my work?” I said holding up my left hand which had two painted nails.

She rolled her eyes and fished out the bug and examined it before deeming it dead and dropping the next one in. We repeated the process until they were all gone. Slater started chanting “I found the bugs! Fuck your shit! I’m a boss! Simmons is a cock! I’m a boss!”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“I’m a mother fucking boss.”

“So how did you find- Never mind I don’t want to know.”

I settled back into my bed and went back to my nails. “You and your damn nails.” Slate shook her head. “I’m gonna make food, grab your meds and bring down Mean Girls”

“YOU GO GLEN COCO!” I screamed.