So, this is the rewrite of Chapter 1. Updates will be whenever I can make them, hopefully there will be a new chapter this Saturday, but this upcoming week I will not be having time to write, because I'm taking the babies to a very close relative's who is a foal trainer for both disciplines. For new readers who aren't sure what I'm talking about, I own three horses, two of which are twin foals who are already a year old and are starting saddle training. Don't worry, we aren't putting an actual saddle, we're strapping a saddle pad and working them with it so they can get used to the feeling of something on their back.

Anyways, so to new readers please don't fret to review! To beginning writers, or anybody looking for a new story to write, please, please contact me via PM! I can give you a plot for a Bot/OC. I have an approximate of six or seven that I'm giving away because I'm not going to be able to write them. To my regular readers, please tell me via review on the new chapter that will hopefully be up this Saturday if you enjoyed this better than the original Chapter 1.

Again, beginners please review! This is the first chapter rewrite, so tell me if it's any good.

Disclaimer :I do not own the characters that you see in the movies or cartoons. I only own my OCs that aren't seen in the movies and cartoons. Enjoy! Please excuse the spelling mistakes and typos!

There was five minutes left. The tiny, thin red hand wasn't moving around the clock fast enough. I sighed through my nose, crossing my arms. Why the hell did my school do this again? Shouldn't our last exam be our last day?

Four minutes. If they thought I was coming back to this place tomorrow, then they were high. I didnt even want to be here in the first place; Ma needs me more than this place does.

Three minutes. Everybody around me got up. Some kid walked over and grabbed the text book in front of me. My jaw set and I placed a curled up fist on the table. He scamered off. I smirked and slipped my leather jacket on. Everybody sat back down.

Two minutes. My eyes burned holes into the clock. My last day here. Not that I'd miss it. Nothing I learned here could help me as much as Tony did. I'd have to see if he was still around. Maybe show him Rookie's new paint job.

One minu-

"Ms. White!" Mr. Sanchez, the teacher at the front of the class yelled.

"What?" I bit back loudly.

"Are you going to sit there and stare at the clock or are you going to listen?" he asked

I smirked, my eyes shifting over to the clock on the wall; I stood up, grabbing the black binder that I didn't really care for anymore "Neither. I'm going home and I'm never coming back."

I walked towards the door, and dropped the binder in the garbage as the final bell rang. I pushed the door open and headed for my locker. The south end of it was built in the 50s, with about five classrooms, and two panels of ten lockers, one on each side. There was an old janitor's closet that wasn't big enough to hold supplies anymore, and two doors that led straight into the parking lot. Students were no longer allowed to be assigned to lockers down here, but you could request to change into one of them.

Because they're so old and not used anymore, they weren't maintained very well, so the hinges are old and rusty and the locker doors have a tendancy to swing open in the middle of whenever. I love it. Nobody uses the lockers so nobody's anywhere near me. I wrenched open the locker door; it was empty, nothing but my keys hanging on the hook, which quickly cam eoff when my hand wrapped around them.

I zipped up my jacket, walking out of the school. I fiddled to grab the second key on my chain when I looked up and froze.

People at my school have always liked my car, Rookie. He's a Mustang Boss 429 worth close to seventy five grand custom painted matte black, which my Mom named Rookie a long time ago. Only once had somebody from my school touched Rookie. Some asshole who was Grade eleven at the time saw me pull up, and while I was talking to the principal he reached out and touched Rookie's hood. I punched him so hard I broke his nose and he got a minor concussion.

Since then, nobody's touched Rookie. In order to avoid people touching him, I park Rookie at the far side of the parking lot, where nobody parks. So, of course I was surprised when I looked up to see two Lamborghinis, one parked on each side of my car. One was red, one was a horrible looking yellow.

I narrowed my eyes, looking around for anyone normally out of place. There was a collection of vehicles who weren't normally here parked next to the red Italian import to Rookie's right, my left.

I turned around to see a big group of people, maybe about thirteen or fourteen of 'em, standing around the principal. I crouched onto the balls of my feet and ran my index finger over the yellow Lamborghini's headlight. I stood up and turned to look behind me; one of the men from the group talking to the principal was glaring at me, before the principal turned and pointed towards me. I smiled at the glaring man, then waited until he growled loudly and went to take a step forward to drag my finger over the yellow car's hood. It made a loud squeaking sound.

The group turned around just as I walked around the Lamborghini and dragged my finger over the side of it and onto the passenger side door. I unlocked my car's door and slipped inside.

I slipped the key into Rookie's ignition, his engine growling loudly and lowly. I shifted gears and drove off the lot.

I am never going back there ever again.

I got home about five minutes later and applied the safety break before pulling the key out and turning him off. I opened the door and got out, picking my house key up. I unlocked the door and shoved my shoulder into the damn house door until it popped open with a loud creak.

"Hey Ma! I'm home!" I yelled out into the small, ratty house I grew up in, closing the door behing me.

"Hey Lily. How was your las-" her question, asked in an extremely raspy tone, was cut off by her coughing.

"Don't talk, Ma. You know it'll only get worse." I said, kneeling in front of her. My eyes averted up to the bag of saline beside the couch, and my tongue moved over my top teeth and sucked on them, "Last day was fine, how many bags have you gone through?" I asked

She moved her head to the side, avoiding my gaze and staring at the end of the couch instead.

"Haven't changed this one yet." she muttered. I sighed, closing my eyes for a second in attempt to control the bubbling anger that was brewing. My Dad had the same problem; it was what got my parents together.

My Dad was a mechanic when he was a teenager, and my Grandfather had gone to him to get something done on his car. When they went to pick it up my Grandfather and Dad got into an argument and my Mom was the one who broke it up before it could get physical. A week later my Mom walked back there and my Dad asked her to go on a date.

I tried my best to control my anger around my Mom; she's my Mom, and a three year cancer patient, going for her eigth try of chemo. On the third try she almost lost her leg, lost her hair on the sixth try and lost her voice for a month on the seventh try, hence her raspy voice. When I was fifteen my Mom had a major procedure done, but it took a large portion of salt out of her system. Because of whatever they did to her, her body lost the ability to retain a lot of salt, so she lives connected to a bag of saline twenty four seven.

I was brought out of my musing when she began coughing again; rough, dry sound coughs that probably almost killed her throat. I walked over in to the kitchen, opening a cupboard door to see one single bag left.

God damn it! I yelled in my head, scrunching my face up. I replaced the empty one with the new one before she could cough again, then sighed.

"I'm gonna head out, go get some more saline for ya, and maybe some dinner." I said softly, standing up before and heading for the door, fists clenched. The door creaked as I shoved it open, slamming it shut behind me.

I knew Ma knew that I was pissed off; she was told to replace each bag when it reaches a quarter left, yet she used it all the way until there was nothing left. I shoved Rookie's key into his ignition and his engine growled as it came on.

His tires squealed as I drove him out of the driveway, and down the road. It didn't take long, maybe fifteen minutes, before I pulled into the hospital. I parked the powerful, black car in the back of the parking lot, making sure both doors were locked, before shutting the door. My boots scuffed against the ground, and the left front door creaked as it opened with those stupid automatic door openers.

The woman who was usually at the front desk, wasn't and I groaned mentally. I hate talking to people I don't know. I hate talking to people I do know. I hate talking. I hate people.

I stopped in front of her, mentally cringing when she smiled widely.

"Can I he-"

"I'm looking to buy saline bags for Mary White." I said, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket, showing my I.D.

"Room four eighten." she smiled. I nodded, not bothering with a smile because it would've been tight and obviously fake. Now, I had two options. I could take the elevator; it would offer me a quick ride to the fourth floor, and I could purchase the saline bags easier. Then again, I could also walk uo the stairs, and avoid the potential of having to be around anoter human in a cofined space. I decided to not take my chances, and started up the stairs. It didn't really take all that long to get to the floor I wanted to be on. I was walking toward the room when I heard the elevator ding, but I just really didn't care, so I didn't look back.

The man behind the counter in the room was young, maybe twenty four, with almost no hair. He wore a white doctor's coat, and looked up when I entered.

"Twenty bags of saline. Lily White." I said, handing him the stupid card I had to use in order to be allowed to purchase saline. He swiped the card in a machine, then disappeared into the back. He came back with a bag, and I could hear slushing inside. I slipped him a twenty, "Keep the change.", then I left.

I took the stairs again, and headed to where I parked Rookie, sighing when I saw someone had parked next to him. Go figure, when I park somewhere by myself, someone always fucking parks next to me.

I opened the driver's side door, placing the bag on the passenger's side lightly, then started him up, the powerful engine growling. I was just about to leave the parking lot when I heard something. An engine that sputtered sadly. It was a dead battery. I looked over from the source of the sound. A military issue Jeep sat about five spots away, vertically, with two men looking at the engine.

"What do we do?" I heard one of them say

I grit my teeth as I pulled up slowly. I went back, opened the trunk and grabbed the booster cables.

"What are you...?" one of the men trailed off.

I opened Rookie's hood, attaching them, then I hooked it up to the Jeep, and turned the military issue vehicle on. When it's engine grumbled to life I disconnected the booster cables and threw them in Rookie's back seat, before taking off.

I stopped by Wal-Mart on the way home to pick up a thing of spaghetti noodles, trying to remember if we had spaghetti sauce at home or not. When I managed to make up my mind, it only took ten minutes to get home, and I pulled Rookie up into the drive way.

Of course I had to practically break the stupid door in order for it to open, and it screamed out in the sound of a creak as I closed it, but at least it opened. I'm positive that one day I'm going to have to take the door off in order to get in, or take it off it's friggin' hinges.

Mom was alseep by the time I got back, so I put the new saline bags away and started the water on the stove to make the excuse of dinner that we'd be having tonight. There was a knock on the door and I clenched my jaw. I wrenched the door open, and narrowed my eyes at the people behind the door.

The men who's Jeep hadn't been working back at the hospital - who'd I'm positive I'd also seen at the ol' hell hole - stood there. In the background I could see a line of fancy cars on the opposite side of the road. I almost let the smirk that wanted out, be free when I noticed the man who owned the horrifying yellow Lamborghini glaring in my direction.

"What?" I asked sharply, my voice border-line growling.

The man with dirty blond hair took a step forward, "May we come in for a moment?"

I took a step forward and blocked the doorway.

"No."

The man looked back at his buddy, obviously of African-American descedent, who nodded, before he sighed and stepped back. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed me a small, white business card.

"If you're interested in a job, please call us for an interview." he said simply, then they both turned and walked away.

There was a loud engine rev, and I watched in my peripheral vision as the horrifying yellow colored Italian car drove away, followed by a red one, before the rest of the vehicles drove off.

I closed the door, throwing the card on the counter carelessly, and grabbed a strainer from under the sink. It drained the noodles in the sink, then soaked the noodles in the rest of the margarine in the fridge. I tossed the tub out into the garbage, then put some of the noodles in a bowl. I placed the bowl on the little table next to Ma, who was still sleeping.

I grabbed the rest of what was our excuse for food tonight, and sat at the kitchen table. It was eight o'clock by the time I finished, and I washed my bowl. When I checked, Ma was still asleep, so I put her bowl in a container, along with the left overs, then tossed them into the fridge carelessly. I looked over at the clear change jar that was on the counter, which we put our money in. One penny, a couple of quarters and two one dollar bills. That package of noodles used up the rest of our money, and I sighed when I realized what I'd have to do to get food. I'd have to contact Gabriel with my list.

I heard Ma stir on the couch, and head over, getting down onto one knee and smiled when she rubbed her eyes.

"Hi." she rasped.

I made a grunt that sounded like a hi, "Would you be ok wih spaghetti for a few days?" I asked.

She sighed, "Lily please, let me go out. I'll get a job, you can go to college-"

"No, Ma. You're not-"

"Lily, please. I want to."

"Mom.."

"Lily, ple-"

"Mo-"

"Please Lily, you need-"

"No!" I yelled slamming two fists into the little table she had, "You are not going out and getting a job!"

She stopped, and I took a massive breath in, "Look- I- You are not going to start working. Physical activity will only make yoour condition worsen. I already lost Dad, there's no way in Hell I'm losing you too. That's not happening." I said

I watched her blink, probably doing her best to not cry, and I sighed, "I'll talk you tomorrow."

I watched her turn around, sniffing, I walked into the kitchen, and my arms braced me against the counter and I rubbed my face. My eyes locked on the loose change in the jar. There was a crumpled up piece of white paper in front of the jar. I raised one eyebrow, and grabbed it to flatten it out. It was the card from those two men who came to my house. I completely forgot about that.

My eyes scanned over the words on the card. They were a tad smeared, but easily readable, "N.E.S.T business operative. Mechanic needed. Please call-" then it had the number on there. On the bottom it said "Please discard this after use."

I almost punched myself in the face when I picked up the phone and dialled the number instead of throwing it away, before walking outside, closing the door behind myself. The phone rang and I waited to hear a voice, either mechanic or in-person. Nothing happened, and just as I lost my patience and was about to hang up..

"Hello, and thank you for calling. For personal calls with troops, please hit one. For protection needs, please hit four. For evidence of any kind, please hit six. For job opportunities, please hit nine."

Can't get any more obvious than that, can they? I hit the nine button. The machine voice thanked me, and I sat down on the top stair. I waited until I heard a real voice, which was distinctly male.

"Hello?"

"Name's Lily White, I was given a card from a man with the name tag W. Lennox. He offered a job interview."

The voice on the other side made an almost-choking noise, before we set up an interview for Thursday, which was two days away. I hung up once we finished our conversation.

I groaned as my thoughts averted to my Dad. He passed away when I was ten years old. He had been a mechanic at this little shop a few miles from here; it hadn't paid much but he loved his job, so he kept it.

So, there I stood, thinking of my Dad with the potential to have a job via an interview looming just two days away.

There we go! Please review and don't forget to vote on the poll on my page if you haven't already!