Conceptions - 2.B
Mikaela's Intermission
Mikaela had her own thinking to do, and her own family to talk to. Fits in between chapter Two and Three.
1, 2, 2.b, 3, 4, 4.b, 5, 6, 7, 7.b
==
Mikaela had a lot to think about.
Mostly, Sam. Sam was easy to think about. Actually, it was hard not to think about Sam, though probably not for the reason a girl would normally think about a boy. After all, the entire thing began (and ended) with Sam. If not for Sam, she would have never seen a giant spiky definition of a bad cop. If not for Sam, she probably would have driven straight into the damned thing, and would have been among the numerous causalities. If not for Sam, she might not have been pulled into a yellow Camaro, and she might not have climbed in to it a second time several hours later.
If not for Sam, she might not know one of the most amazing secrets in the galaxy. She might not know the Autobots.
Oh, Sam wasn't her type of guy at all, but she had been giving it serious consideration. He was kinda cute, after all, in a ... really dorky, lame lame lame way. In a ... hawking his family heirlooms in the class room kind of way. In a not exactly living in this reality kind of way.
... in a 'fluent in giant robot' sort of way. The weird sort of connection he had with the Autobots was just ... crazy. Sorta ... her type of crazy. So she had been seriously considering dating really dorky lame guy who was friends with alien robots. What kind of idiot just walks right up to a giant robot? Dad had introduced her to a lot of oddball grease monkeys, but Sam honestly took the cake ... with gusto.
Then she and Sam had met back up with the Autobots, and she was sort of forced to acknowledge the fact that Sam had more chemistry with a giant robot alien than he did with her.
That was ...
Well, he was the strangest boy she had ever met. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised. Sam had just fixated on Bumblebee with the sort of weird devotion and intensity that just wasn't supposed to exist in real life. It was 'my car' this and 'my car' that, from the moment she'd been pulled into the Camaro. And Mikaela had a really ... really intense feeling that it was rather mutual.
That ...
Mikaela really needed to go talk to her dad. He was the only thing that made sense to her, and this was just ... really, really strange.
==
"Hey, sugar," he said, smiling in a pleased way as he settled across the table from her. "I didn't expect to see you with my parole coming up."
"Hi, Daddy," she said, a little pleased and relieved to see him smiling easily. They had the same smile, so she was pretty familiar with what a fake one looked like. That one wasn't it. "I just ... had to see you. Have you seen the news about Mission City?"
"That terrorist attack?" he asked, turning seriously. Her father looked a lot like the boy-next-door grown up, she noticed absently. Dark brown hair, the same easily-tanned skin, green eyes instead of her own blue that came from her mother and his. "Yeah, it's been the only thing very interesting to talk about here. What about it?"
Mikaela reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well ... I was there." Beating around the bush never really worked between the two of them. They were direct people with each other.
He immediately leaned forward, frowning with concern. "Are you okay? You're not sick -- or hurt, are you?"
Smiling briefly, she shook her head. "No, I'm fine. A little bruised up, but fine. No sickness here," she spread her arms in a 'ta-da' manner before leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "I just wanted to see you, yanno? Now, not ... when you get your parole."
"Well," he said, leaning on his arms, "here I am. Anything you wanted to talk about?"
Remaining quiet for a moment, she thought about it. It would be really hard to explain the entire situation that was bothering her. "I think I found a really, really good boy," she said finally.
"But?"
"But what?"
"Mickey," he said, giving her a 'stop fooling around' look. "If there wasn't a but, you wouldn't be talking about it. Unless ... are you pregnant? Or did you end up in Vegas."
"Dad," she groaned. "No. Okay: so there's a 'but'. The thing is ... I think he's interested in me, or at least he was, but there might be some ... one else. Something else."
He smiled ruefully. "Sounds complicated."
"You have no idea." She tolerated his laughter, if only because she knew she was right. "The thing is, he's a really good boy. I think we could work. But he's also ... very, very strange."
"Strange how?" he asked, amused. "Strange ... as in he wears his mother's dresses strange?"
Mikaela twitched slightly, far too used to her father's off color humor to react too badly to that suggestion. "No. At least, I don't think -- no, just no. God, Dad. No, it's just ... he's very strange."
"Stranger than Mario-strange?"
"... surprisingly, yes, stranger than honestly believing that the dryer is a portal to the elder god Cthulu."
"And yet you remember how to pronounce it."
" ... you let him baby-sit me. More than once."
"Hey, we all make mistakes."
Mikaela shook her head. "My point is, I think we could make it work, but I'm not sure we should."
He smiled at her a little sadly. "Sounds like me and your mother."
It did, didn't it? Her mother and father could have made it work. When she was younger, she could see it. They could make it work. It was just that Mom ... stopped trying. She hooked up with her high school sweetheart, left Dad broken hearted and Mikaela had chosen to stay with her father, in his mother's house. Not that Dad spent a lot of time home, but he was just ...
He was just trying to deal with it. And having lived though that, did Mikaela really want to do that again? Did she want to be her father? With a child and broken hearted and trying to get by however she could while finding what happiness she could and having a broken house hold?
Could she run the risk of that?
==
YOU HAVE FIVE NEW MESSAGES.
FIRST MESSAGE: "Hey, bunny, it--" MESSAGE DELETED.
SECOND MESSAGE: "It's me again --" MESSAGE DELETED.
THIRD MESSAGE: "Hey, Bunny, it's Mom. I was just calling you to see how you were. That global communication crash was pretty scary, huh? Give me a call when you can. We can talk about jerk boyfriends, okay? Take care of yourself, Bunny, and don't let that Trent guy get you too down. You are still dating him, right? I'm sorry -- it's just, we haven't talked -- but whatever, okay? Just ... take care of yourself. I love you." SIX THIRTY SIX P M, WEDNESDAY.
FOURTH MESSAGE: "Hey, Mikaela -- it's, ah, Sam. Witwicky. Um, I got your number from the phonebook, soo ... um, that didn't sound too stalkerish, I hope. Just call me, um, if you ever wanna hang out, or talk, or anything. Or talk to Bumblebee ...? Well, anyway, call me back." FIVE P-M, SATURDAY.
FIFTH MESSAGE: "Ah -- it's Sam. Again. I forgot to leave my number and wow, that's not retarded at all. It's area code ..." FIVE OH FIVE P-M, SATURDAY.
NO NEW MESSAGES.
==
At eight o' clock, Mikaela looked up Witwicky in the phone book until she found Ron and Judy, and called Sam's house.
"Yeah, Sam? It's Mikaela. Can we met somewhere tomorrow? To talk? ... Great. See you then."
==
Next
- I figured Trent didn't come up with 'bunny' out of no where. He probably met her mom once, and while I see her tolerating 'bunny' from her mother ... Trent, not so much.
Mikaela had her own thinking to do, and her own family to talk to. Fits in between chapter Two and Three.
1, 2, 2.b, 3, 4, 4.b, 5, 6, 7, 7.b
==
Mikaela had a lot to think about.
Mostly, Sam. Sam was easy to think about. Actually, it was hard not to think about Sam, though probably not for the reason a girl would normally think about a boy. After all, the entire thing began (and ended) with Sam. If not for Sam, she would have never seen a giant spiky definition of a bad cop. If not for Sam, she probably would have driven straight into the damned thing, and would have been among the numerous causalities. If not for Sam, she might not have been pulled into a yellow Camaro, and she might not have climbed in to it a second time several hours later.
If not for Sam, she might not know one of the most amazing secrets in the galaxy. She might not know the Autobots.
Oh, Sam wasn't her type of guy at all, but she had been giving it serious consideration. He was kinda cute, after all, in a ... really dorky, lame lame lame way. In a ... hawking his family heirlooms in the class room kind of way. In a not exactly living in this reality kind of way.
... in a 'fluent in giant robot' sort of way. The weird sort of connection he had with the Autobots was just ... crazy. Sorta ... her type of crazy. So she had been seriously considering dating really dorky lame guy who was friends with alien robots. What kind of idiot just walks right up to a giant robot? Dad had introduced her to a lot of oddball grease monkeys, but Sam honestly took the cake ... with gusto.
Then she and Sam had met back up with the Autobots, and she was sort of forced to acknowledge the fact that Sam had more chemistry with a giant robot alien than he did with her.
That was ...
Well, he was the strangest boy she had ever met. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised. Sam had just fixated on Bumblebee with the sort of weird devotion and intensity that just wasn't supposed to exist in real life. It was 'my car' this and 'my car' that, from the moment she'd been pulled into the Camaro. And Mikaela had a really ... really intense feeling that it was rather mutual.
That ...
Mikaela really needed to go talk to her dad. He was the only thing that made sense to her, and this was just ... really, really strange.
==
"Hey, sugar," he said, smiling in a pleased way as he settled across the table from her. "I didn't expect to see you with my parole coming up."
"Hi, Daddy," she said, a little pleased and relieved to see him smiling easily. They had the same smile, so she was pretty familiar with what a fake one looked like. That one wasn't it. "I just ... had to see you. Have you seen the news about Mission City?"
"That terrorist attack?" he asked, turning seriously. Her father looked a lot like the boy-next-door grown up, she noticed absently. Dark brown hair, the same easily-tanned skin, green eyes instead of her own blue that came from her mother and his. "Yeah, it's been the only thing very interesting to talk about here. What about it?"
Mikaela reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well ... I was there." Beating around the bush never really worked between the two of them. They were direct people with each other.
He immediately leaned forward, frowning with concern. "Are you okay? You're not sick -- or hurt, are you?"
Smiling briefly, she shook her head. "No, I'm fine. A little bruised up, but fine. No sickness here," she spread her arms in a 'ta-da' manner before leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "I just wanted to see you, yanno? Now, not ... when you get your parole."
"Well," he said, leaning on his arms, "here I am. Anything you wanted to talk about?"
Remaining quiet for a moment, she thought about it. It would be really hard to explain the entire situation that was bothering her. "I think I found a really, really good boy," she said finally.
"But?"
"But what?"
"Mickey," he said, giving her a 'stop fooling around' look. "If there wasn't a but, you wouldn't be talking about it. Unless ... are you pregnant? Or did you end up in Vegas."
"Dad," she groaned. "No. Okay: so there's a 'but'. The thing is ... I think he's interested in me, or at least he was, but there might be some ... one else. Something else."
He smiled ruefully. "Sounds complicated."
"You have no idea." She tolerated his laughter, if only because she knew she was right. "The thing is, he's a really good boy. I think we could work. But he's also ... very, very strange."
"Strange how?" he asked, amused. "Strange ... as in he wears his mother's dresses strange?"
Mikaela twitched slightly, far too used to her father's off color humor to react too badly to that suggestion. "No. At least, I don't think -- no, just no. God, Dad. No, it's just ... he's very strange."
"Stranger than Mario-strange?"
"... surprisingly, yes, stranger than honestly believing that the dryer is a portal to the elder god Cthulu."
"And yet you remember how to pronounce it."
" ... you let him baby-sit me. More than once."
"Hey, we all make mistakes."
Mikaela shook her head. "My point is, I think we could make it work, but I'm not sure we should."
He smiled at her a little sadly. "Sounds like me and your mother."
It did, didn't it? Her mother and father could have made it work. When she was younger, she could see it. They could make it work. It was just that Mom ... stopped trying. She hooked up with her high school sweetheart, left Dad broken hearted and Mikaela had chosen to stay with her father, in his mother's house. Not that Dad spent a lot of time home, but he was just ...
He was just trying to deal with it. And having lived though that, did Mikaela really want to do that again? Did she want to be her father? With a child and broken hearted and trying to get by however she could while finding what happiness she could and having a broken house hold?
Could she run the risk of that?
==
YOU HAVE FIVE NEW MESSAGES.
FIRST MESSAGE: "Hey, bunny, it--" MESSAGE DELETED.
SECOND MESSAGE: "It's me again --" MESSAGE DELETED.
THIRD MESSAGE: "Hey, Bunny, it's Mom. I was just calling you to see how you were. That global communication crash was pretty scary, huh? Give me a call when you can. We can talk about jerk boyfriends, okay? Take care of yourself, Bunny, and don't let that Trent guy get you too down. You are still dating him, right? I'm sorry -- it's just, we haven't talked -- but whatever, okay? Just ... take care of yourself. I love you." SIX THIRTY SIX P M, WEDNESDAY.
FOURTH MESSAGE: "Hey, Mikaela -- it's, ah, Sam. Witwicky. Um, I got your number from the phonebook, soo ... um, that didn't sound too stalkerish, I hope. Just call me, um, if you ever wanna hang out, or talk, or anything. Or talk to Bumblebee ...? Well, anyway, call me back." FIVE P-M, SATURDAY.
FIFTH MESSAGE: "Ah -- it's Sam. Again. I forgot to leave my number and wow, that's not retarded at all. It's area code ..." FIVE OH FIVE P-M, SATURDAY.
NO NEW MESSAGES.
==
At eight o' clock, Mikaela looked up Witwicky in the phone book until she found Ron and Judy, and called Sam's house.
"Yeah, Sam? It's Mikaela. Can we met somewhere tomorrow? To talk? ... Great. See you then."
==
Next
- I figured Trent didn't come up with 'bunny' out of no where. He probably met her mom once, and while I see her tolerating 'bunny' from her mother ... Trent, not so much.