THUMP

That was the door swinging open.

"Get up. You're leaving today."

That was my current, but soon to be previous, foster parent.

I was glad to be leaving. I didn't want to spend any more time in this place.

Where was I going again? Oh yeah. Tranquility, California. Closest thing to the fictional home of the fictional Sam Witwicky. I was a huge fan of the TF's, and even though I knew that none of the movies had actually been shot there at all, going there was actually pretty cool in my book. Sure, it was going to be a group home this time, which lacks foster 'parents', but that had to be better than here. I had recently been living in this foster 'home' with a family who was nice, but they'd had so many foster kids taken away from them that they had become numb. They didn't even try to reach out to me.

At least I'd be moving to a group home for foster children (Why didn't they just call it an orphanage?). Oh well. I'd had enough of 'parents', and I always did like staying with a big group of people my age; the roommate life.

On the downside, for the first time in my life, I'd have to leave my beloved Minnesota. I'd always been able to stay in the same general area. California would be a whole new thing. Why I was going across the country? God knows but I didn't.

All this I thought while I hadn't moved in bed. I was urging my body to get up, literally thinking to myself: Get up, get up. Finally it complied, though it screamed in protest. I sat up, hunched over with my head in my left hand for a second before turning to look at the clock.

7:00. AM.

I groaned and flopped back down onto the bed, thinking: Whyyyyyyyy? I hate getting up early. I didn't even get up this early for school!

Well, do you want to get out of here or not? I asked myself. Besides, it's not too horrible. I could be getting up earlier. This made me get up again, ready to go this time. I looked around for the pile of clothes I'd set out for today, which actually wasn't hard to find. For once, the room wasn't a complete pit. My messy rooms are different from most. Instead of a floordrobe, the floor of the room I stayed in usually was covered with papers. My papers. From stories that would never make it to , to sketches of figments of my overactive imagination, to info I had once thought important printed off from the internet, my room looked like a tornado had passed through a paper mill and had dropped everything it had taken up onto my floor. And all of it was far too important or far too sentimental to recycle. All of it. The only reason it was clean was because I'd packed every last one of my precious papers into an old totebag that I would be keeping with me on my flight. All the much less significant things, like clothes and toiletries, were packed into a single suitcase.

I don't care if my clothes are in style, which they aren't, I just care that they portray me as me, which usually meant baggy jeans, loose T-shirts, athletic shoes, and a cap. Some people think I look like a wannabe gangsta, but it's what I'm most comfortable in. Another thing I care about is that, if my shirts are going to advertise something, it had better be something I like. No Abercrombie & Fitch for me, not that I'd have them if I wanted them. I was a foster kid after all. I liked to show my favorite bands, favorite characters, Christ, favorite movies, etc., but I didn't have a lot to represent this stuff with, so I had to put my imagination to use.

For example: Today, in honor of my moving to a town named Tranquility, I had chosen to wear what I counted as my Bumblebee outfit. My outfit wasn't as obvious as it could be. What I had was a black T-shirt, a yellow hoodie, a pair of steel gray jeans, a pair of back athletic shoes, a yellow new era cap with a black rim and a big red Autobot insignia on the side, a pair of small plastic blue retro earrings for 'optics', and a silver Autobot insignia necklace to top it all off.

After I found my clothes, I quickly got dressed and ran upstairs to grab a breakfast drink. After that I went back downstairs to clean up for the day. Very interesting, I know, but while I did that, I looked in the mirror, which is probably a good time to tell you what I look like.

What I saw in the mirror was a ten-year-old girl, four foot six, thin, and weak for a girl her age. Her dull, dirty blonde hair reached the center of her back and her skin was pale but not pale enough for her ever to be goth. The only part of the girl that I thought looked attractive were her golden-brown eyes lined with naturally thick eyelashes. Pretty plain, but I guess I should be happy that I look decent.

When I was done getting ready, I stopped what I was doing to look at myself in the mirror. I didn't look happy, so I got an idea.

"Bond. James Bond. I like my Martini shaken, not stirred."

I smiled, then...

"Check on the rep, yep second to none!"

"You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? I'm the only one here, so, you must be talkin' to me!"

"It talks! Did you hear that? Did anyone just hear that? It just talked!"

"It always talks."

"Actually, it's getting him to shut up that's the trick."

"The moment there is nothing to be said, your Highness, I promise you, I will not say it."

"I don't know what kind of prank this is, but I want to wake up right now!"

"Perhaps we could throw him back?"

"Let us find the dam snack bar. We should eat while we can."

"The dam snack bar?"

"Yes. What is funny?"

"Nothing. I could use some dam french fries."

"And I need to use the dam restroom."

"I do not understand."

" And... I want to buy a dam T-shirt."

"Moooo."

"Did I just hear a cow?"

"A dam cow?"

"MY CABBAGES!"

That last one made me fall into a fit of laughter. There, I thought to myself. That should keep me happy. I love doing quotes and acting them out. If anyone had been standing in the doorway watching, they'd probably have thought that I'm crazy. You probably think I'm crazy. Oh well, I probably am.

After I'd recovered from my laugh attack, I dragged my baggage out to the foster family's car, pausing every now and then to laugh as more quotes popped into my head. They were already in it. I don't think they meant to be mean, they probably just didn't think it through. I tried not to let it bother me.

I tried.

I let my hair fall in front of my eyes before putting my cap on, the brim low on my face.

On the 3 hour long trip to the airport, (we didn't live near any major ones), not much was said. The family stayed with me until all the security and junk were done, then we exchanged tearless goodbyes and they left me alone in the waiting room.

That hurt. A lot. How they had all been so ready came back to haunt me. They wanted to make sure I was there on time, so that they wouldn't have to keep me. They were so ready to leave...to be rid of me...

No. I had to stay strong. I was done with this. Totally done with wanting a family. I didn't need anybody but the Lord. Human families were a complete waste of time and only caused heartbreak. Thank goodness I was going to a group home. No parents. What a relief.

That's what I told myself anyway.

While I was waiting for my flight, I occupied myself by watching other planes come in for landing and take off for the wild blue yonder. I thought to myself, Isn't it funny that, even after watching Transformers movies so many times, I still am not afraid to fly. Far from it actually. See, I've always had this urge to fly; felt drawn to the sky. I've always loved the feeling of the wind in my face and the thrill of being high above the ground. Climbing stuff like rocks and trees were a habit of mine. They kept me closer to the sky. I wanted so badly to go skydiving, hang gliding, paraglideing, or even bunjee jumping one day, but that would have to wait until I was older. It always surprises me how even though I knew that most Decepticons took planes for their vehicle modes, I still wasn't afraid of planes. It's not like I have anything to fear, I thought to myself as I watched a jet come in for landing. Decepticons aren't real, and even if they were, I smirked to myself. Not all of them chose aerial modes anyway.

That jet turned out to be my flight, and sometime later it was ready to board. Strangely, I found that not many people needed to fly from Minneapolis to San Francisco today. I had all three seats to myself, and there was no one across the aisle from me either. I thought: Huh. ... Score! I count having the entire seat to myself a plus because I am shy around new people. Having to sit with, and worse: talking with, complete strangers is not fun for me, and now I wouldn't have to. Sweet.

Settling in, I decided to read some Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, one of my favorite books, until the plane took off. After we were in motion, I wouldn't be able to read though. I get carsick when I read in moving vehicles, so after we took off I'd have to take a nap. Buckling myself into the window seat, I opened my book and followed Lucy into the wardrobe.

When the plane, began moving down the runway, I left Edmund to the hands of the White Witch and looked out the window. I could see the buildings going by faster, and faster, and faster, and then smaller, and smaller, and smaller. I smiled as I watched the ground fall below, reveling in the, if minute, feeling of flight.

"Today is a new day," I quoted Chicken Little in a whisper.

I had no idea.

After the Earth had disappeared behind a cloud, I settled down on my three wonderful seats for a nap. My deep and satisfying sleep only lasted a few hours however. Soon I drifted into the light sleep where dreams happen, where I had a weird dream.

I couldn't remember anything of what I'd dreamed, but I woke with a jolt. To what? I wasn't sure. Sometimes I woke from dreams with a jolt for no reason, and sometimes I wake because I swear I hear someone calling me. Usually though, I can tell who the voice belonged to and was able to place it in just another one of my overactive imagination's antics.

Thinking this, I whisper-sang a verse from the song, The Rainbow Connection, sung by the one and only Kermit the Frog.

"Have you been half asleep

And have you heard voices

I've heard them calling my name

Are these the sweet sounds that called

The young sailors

I think they're one and the same

I've heard it too many times to ignore it

There's something that I'm supposed to be"

Then I was cut off.

I felt something else. It started out as just the slightest of vibrations, accompanied by a soft humming. It pulsated its way into your body and shook your bones.

But then it grew.

I looked around, confused. I had never felt turbulence like this before. I'd never heard turbulence before either.

Then the freaky happened: my vision got blurry. Because everything began to vibrate that much! The humming got louder too, so that it sounded more like rumbling.

Eyes wide with fear, my sweaty hands fumbled to put my seatbelt on. Somehow I knew this wouldn't help, but when you're as scared as I was, any form of comfort is welcome. I forced hands to stop shaking and clung to my totebag with a death grip as the vibrating got faster...

"Attention passengers," I could just barely hear the pilot's voice come over the intercom. "We are experiencing some slight turbulence. Please remain seated." The "put on seatbelts" sign flashed, but I couldn't hear the tone that accompanied it because the rumbling turned to thundering and the vibrating got faster...

SLIGHT TURBULENCE?! I wanted to scream, but didn't. Im not typically a screamer, but I almost did because the vibrating got faster...

A fear that I can honestly say that I've never had before attacked me so suddenly that my breath was knocked out of me as the vibrating got faster...

We're decepticons attacking?

Faster...

No! I told myself, squeezing my eyes shut. I had to choke down a shriek as I began to mentally chant to myself: Decepticons aren't real. Decepticons aren't real. Decepticons aren't real.

Faster...

As I tried not to pass out, I pleaded to God for my life.

Faster...

Decepticons aren't real.

Faster...

Decepticons aren't real.

Faster...

Decepticons aren't real.

Faster...

God! Daddy! PLEASE!

...

It stopped.

Very slowly, I opened my eyes.

It stopped. All of it. The vibrating, the thundering, all of it!

Something else stopped too; something familiar. And something new, nothing like I'd ever known before, began.

Shaking all over, I looked around the plane...and my jaw dropped.

No one, and I mean no one, had been effected! Some people had their seatbelts on, but other than that, no one was acting as if anything unusual had happened!

"Hey,"

I jumped at the voice and I snapped around to look behind my seat.

A guy in his mid-twenties was looking over the back of my seat at me, his face full of concern. "Are you alright?" he asked.

I paused, embarrassed when I realized that I had been panting heavily. Swallowing hard, I said in a small voice, "Yeah, I'm fine." All I could muster up was a weak smile. I said, "Quite the ride, huh?", hoping that somehow I wasn't alone in this, but the man looked at my funny, which only embarrassed me more, and said, "Yeah," slowly. "The clouds can be pretty bumpy," Then he sat back down, out of my sight.

I blinked and turned back around. So. Alright then. I was alone in this.

Whatever it was.