บท 172: C171 Sam’s Very Bad Day

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[While Peter Holds His Meeting...]

The morning sun barely filtered through the thin curtains of Mikaela's small, worn-down room, casting soft light on the cluttered space.

The sound of her alarm clock jolted her awake, and she slowly blinked her eyes open, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The events of the previous night rushed back into her mind—Peter, the impromptu date, and, of course, the kiss she had stolen. Her heart fluttered at the memory, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Pushing herself out of bed, Mikaela stretched, feeling the stiffness in her muscles from the restless night. She moved through her room, navigating around the piles of clothes and discarded books.

As she reached the bathroom, she grabbed an old wrench from the counter and used it to turn the shower handle. The pipes groaned in protest, but eventually, water started to flow, albeit with a few spurts and splashes.

"Great, another day in paradise," she muttered to herself with a small laugh, stepping under the lukewarm water.

She quickly washed up, her thoughts drifting back to Peter. She could still feel the warmth of his cheek on her lips, the memory of their brief kiss making her smile despite herself.

After her shower, she wrapped a towel around herself and moved to the sink. She turned the faucet, but it refused to budge. Rolling her eyes, she gave it a firm smack, and it sputtered to life, spitting out water just in time for her to brush her teeth.

She glanced at herself in the cracked mirror, noticing the subtle changes in her expression—the hint of excitement and nervousness she hadn't seen in herself for a long time.

With her teeth brushed, her makeup done, and her hair combed back into a quick ponytail, Mikaela headed back to her room. She yanked open her closet door, which creaked in protest, and sifted through the few clothes hanging there.

Settling on a simple pair of jeans and a fitted t-shirt, she quickly dressed, her mind still preoccupied with thoughts of Peter. 'Should I call him later?' she wondered. 'Or was he just playing around…?'

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts as she made her way to the kitchen. Her house, old and in disrepair, was filled with a mix of memories—some fond, many painful.

She pulled a box of cereal from the top of the fridge, pouring it into a chipped bowl and grabbing a carton of milk that was dangerously close to its expiration date.

As she ate, she found herself staring blankly at the kitchen table, her mind drifting back to Peter yet again. She could still feel the rush of adrenaline from the night before, the excitement of the chase, and the unexpected tenderness of their parting moment. Her fingers unconsciously touched her lips, a soft sigh escaping her. 'Get a grip, Mikaela,' she scolded herself, but it was hard to push him out of her thoughts.

After finishing her breakfast and putting her bowl in the sink, Mikaela grabbed her backpack from the chair by the door. Stepping outside, she was met by the crisp morning air.

She paused on her doorstep, out of habit, expecting Trent's truck to pull up as it always had. The realization hit her like a bucket of cold water—Trent wouldn't be picking her up anymore.

She'd broken up with him last night, a decision that, surprisingly, brought her more relief and happiness than sadness. In fact, the thought of her ex-boyfriend barely registered now. All she could think about was Peter—his mysterious aura, his confidence, the way he seemed to genuinely care for her in such a short time.

Shaking off her thoughts, she glanced down the street, spotting the bus coming around the corner. She let out a breath and started walking toward the bus stop, feeling a mix of nerves and determination.

When the bus finally pulled up, Mikaela hesitated for a moment before stepping on board. The chatter inside quickly died down as the other students turned to look at her, their expressions a mix of curiosity and surprise. Mikaela had always ridden with her boyfriend, never on the bus. She felt a wave of awkwardness wash over her, knowing all eyes were on her.

Ignoring the stares and whispers, she moved to the front of the bus and took a seat, staring out the window to avoid making eye contact with anyone. She could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken questions hanging in the air.

As the bus made its way through the neighborhood, the reality of her situation began to settle in. With every turn, every bump in the road, her anxiety grew.

Mikaela couldn't help but wonder what Trent had told their friends about the breakup. 'Probably some bullshit to make himself look good,' she thought bitterly. She knew he wasn't the type to keep things private, especially when it came to protecting his own ego.

'Who knows what lies he's been spreading,' she mused, her grip on her backpack tightening. The closer they got to school, the more she dreaded stepping off the bus, facing her classmates, and hearing the whispers.

Trent was not trustworthy, and she knew he wouldn't hesitate to twist the story in his favor. 'God, why did I decide to go to school today?'

Mikaela took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. 'Just get through today,' she told herself. But still, the knot in her stomach only seemed to tighten as they neared the school, her mind racing with thoughts of what awaited her.

…

Arriving at school, Mikaela stepped off the bus, doing her best to ignore the stares and whispers that followed her.

As she walked toward the entrance of the school, she kept her gaze focused ahead, avoiding eye contact with anyone. She could feel their eyes on her, and every now and then, she caught snippets of conversation—fragments of the rumors that had been circulating since yesterday.

Behind her, in the parking lot, a beat-up blue sedan pulled in, drawing a few amused glances from the crowd outside. Behind the wheel was Sam Witwicky, his face red with embarrassment as he parked the car.

The blue sedan was far from what Sam had wanted. He had his heart set on the yellow Camaro he had seen the day before, but someone else had snatched it up before he could finalize the deal. Now, he was stuck with this piece of junk.

Mikaela didn't notice him as she continued her determined march into the school, her focus solely on making it through the day. "…"

The whispers grew louder as she walked past groups of students huddled together, their heads bent in gossip. She could make out bits and pieces of what they were saying—Trent had been busy spreading his version of their breakup.

"Did you hear? She's a total felon. Her dad's in jail, and she's broke…"

"She works at that crappy store in the mall. Probably can't afford anything better…"

"And apparently, she went nuts when Trent dumped her. Got herself arrested for attacking him."

Mikaela's jaw tightened at the last part, fury boiling up inside her. She knew Trent would try to spin the story to make himself look good, but this was beyond what she had expected. Her grip on her backpack straps tightened as she pushed through the hallways, trying to block out the noise.

When she reached her first class, she paused at the door, her heart racing as she saw her former friends clustered around Trent. They were laughing and gossiping, their heads close together as they whispered.

As she stepped inside, the room fell into an awkward silence. All eyes turned to her, and for a moment, she stood there, feeling the weight of their stares.

Trent and the others exchanged glances, then turned away, resuming their conversation as if she wasn't even there. Their voices dropped to hushed tones, but it was clear they were still talking about her, making no effort to hide it.

It was infuriating.

Mikaela took a deep breath, fighting the urge to say something. Instead, she walked to her seat, her expression neutral despite the anger bubbling up inside her. She sat down, staring straight ahead, doing her best to ignore them.

The day dragged on, each class blending into the next as the whispers and stares followed her everywhere she went.

Trent and her former friends seemed to take pleasure in continuing their gossip, knowing full well she could hear them. They didn't care. To them, she was just a source of entertainment now—a story to tell, a joke to laugh at.

Finally, the last class of the day arrived, and Mikaela felt a wave of relief wash over her. She just had to make it through this, and then she could go home and put this awful day behind her.

As the buses lined up outside, ready to take everyone home, Mikaela gathered her things, eager to get out of there. 'Finally!'

But as she stood up, she heard Trent's voice again, louder this time, clearly meant for her to hear. "You know, I'm glad I dumped that psycho. I've been tapping that for months and trust me, she's all used up. Maybe I'll find a younger girl next..."

Laughter erupted from their group, her former friends and a few others joining in. Mikaela's blood ran cold. This was too much. She could handle the whispers, the gossip, even the lies about her dad and her job. But this—this was a step too far. 'We never had sex, you prick!'

She could feel the eyes of her classmates on her, watching to see what she would do. Some looked sympathetic, others curious, and a few clearly entertained by the drama. Her fists clenched at her sides, and for a moment, she felt frozen, unsure of what to do.

Meanwhile, a few seats away, Sam Witwicky stood from his seat. He looked determined, like he was about to do something stupidly brave, his fists clenched tightly. 'This is my chance!' he thought, ready to walk over and punch Trent in the face, hoping to finally get Mikaela's attention.

But before Sam could take more than a few steps, Mikaela brushed past him, her decision made. She marched straight over to Trent, her heart pounding in her chest, each step fueled by the anger that had been building all day.

Trent looked up as she approached, a smug grin on his face. "What do you want—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Mikaela's fist connected with his jaw, sending him sprawling out of his seat and onto the floor. The room erupted in gasps, everyone shocked by the sudden violence. Trent's friends stared, mouths agape, as Trent groaned in pain, clutching his face.

"Get your facts straight, Trent," Mikaela spat, her voice cold. "First of all, I was the one who broke up with you. Anyone can ask the dozens of cops who witnessed it. And second, who in their right mind would sleep with a pathetic excuse for a man like you anyway? You begged me for months just to touch that tiny thing, you limp d*ck loser!"

There was a stunned silence in the room as Mikaela turned on her heel and marched out, her heart racing but her head held high. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, a mixture of fear and triumph.

As she stepped outside, she took a deep breath, her anger slowly ebbing away. She just wanted to get on the bus and go home, away from all the drama and gossip.

But before she could reach the bus, she heard someone calling her name. She turned, seeing Sam running toward her, slightly out of breath.

"Mikaela! Wait up!" Sam called, hurrying to catch up with her.

She frowned, slightly confused. She didn't recognize him. "Who are you?" she asked, her tone cautious. "Do we know each other?"

Sam looked taken aback, like her words had physically struck him, but he quickly recovered. "I'm Sam. Sam Witwicky. We have a few classes together," he explained, his tone hopeful.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mikaela apologized. "Are you new or something? I don't remember seeing you before."

Sam's shoulders slumped slightly, another hit to his ego, but he managed a weak smile. "No, I've been here for years," he said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

She gave a small nod, still unsure why he was talking to her. "Okay… And? Do need something?"

Sam quickly straightened up, his determination returning. "Umm, I saw what happened back there," he said, gesturing toward the school. "That was… really something. And I thought maybe you'd want a ride home, instead of taking the bus?"

Mikaela glanced around, noticing the other students filing out, many of them still glancing her way and whispering. Her gaze landed on the bus, where a few of her classmates from the last period were boarding, shooting her curious looks. She really didn't want to deal with any more questions or judgment today.

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "Sure, why not?" she agreed, figuring it couldn't be worse than facing everyone on the bus.

Sam's face lit up with a smile as he led her toward his car, clearly pleased that she'd accepted his offer. He opened the passenger door for her, and she slid into the seat, trying not to think too much about what she was doing.

As Sam started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Mikaela glanced back at the school, catching sight of Trent and her former friends watching them from the distance, laughing. She turned away, refusing to let them get to her.

'Just get me home,' she thought, leaning back in her seat as the old blue sedan rattled down the road. 'This day needs to end.'

…

As they drove down the quiet suburban streets, Sam kept glancing over at Mikaela, trying to strike up a conversation. "So," he began, attempting to sound casual, "how's your day been? I mean, besides, you know, everything that happened at school."

Mikaela barely mustered the words to respond. Her mind was miles away, lost in the swirling chaos of her thoughts. How was she supposed to face everyone at school tomorrow? Trent had deserved what he got, no question, but now everyone saw her as some sort of unhinged delinquent. She sighed deeply, pressing her forehead against the cool glass of the car window.

And then there was Peter… What was he thinking right now? She still had his number—maybe she should call him when she got home. That might help take her mind off things, if only for a little while…

Minutes passed in silence, with Sam nervously tapping the steering wheel, trying to think of something, anything, to say that might get more than a one or two-word answer from her. But Mikaela was too wrapped up in her own world to notice. She didn't even hear him when he clumsily asked, "I mean, after this… Maybe a date?" His voice was shaky, betraying his nerves, but he pushed through.

He pulled up to her house and parked, waiting with bated breath for her response. But Mikaela didn't reply. Her eyes had locked onto the scene outside her window, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Her house, which had always been rundown was a flurry of activity. "!"

Men in construction helmets were everywhere, replacing the old paneling, fixing broken windows, and reinforcing the porch railing.

Painters were applying a fresh coat of paint both inside and out. Inside her house, through the windows, she could see more workers moving in and out, carrying tools and materials, evidently making repairs and improvements.

Even the yard was being transformed. Landscapers were trimming the overgrown bushes, mowing the grass, and tending to the old tree that had always looked a little worse for wear. They were turning her home into something beautiful, something she'd never thought she'd see.

She sat there, stunned, until a jolt of panic shot through her. If they were fixing up the house, they were going to charge her for it, weren't they?

They must have gotten the wrong address, and there was no way she could afford this. Bolting out of the car, she barely heard Sam's confused "Hey, wait!" as he called after her, still reeling from the lack of response to his date proposal.

"Stop! Stop! You've got the wrong house!" she shouted, rushing up the steps of her porch. "I didn't order any of this! I can't pay for this!"

The workers paused, looking around at each other in confusion. Then, as if on cue, a man in a crisp, dark suit stepped forward. He exuded professionalism, his glasses perched perfectly on his nose, a leather briefcase in hand. "Are you Mikaela Banes?" he asked, a polite smile on his face.

Mikaela nodded, breathless. "Yes, but if this is about my dad's debts, he's in jail, okay? What he owes you has nothing to do with me!"

The man's smile widened slightly. "Ah, Miss Banes, I assure you this has nothing to do with any debts. You can relax. All of this," he gestured to the bustling activity around them, "has already been paid for."

He handed her a neatly organized stack of papers. Mikaela took them hesitantly, her eyes scanning the documents. They were all contracts and receipts—proof that the construction and landscaping work was fully paid for. "But… but who paid for it?" she stammered, still trying to process what was happening.

Just then, a truck rumbled up the street, catching Mikaela's attention. It stopped in front of her house, and the driver hopped out, guiding a brand-new red 1993 Porsche 911 down the ramp and into her driveway.

"?!" Mikaela watched in disbelief, her mind struggling to keep up.

The lawyer followed her gaze and smiled. "Ah, good, they're on time. That, too, is yours, Miss Banes." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, placing them on top of the stack of papers in her hands. "This car, like everything else, has been paid for. You just need to sign for ownership."

Mikaela was speechless, the world spinning around her. She barely noticed Sam approaching, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief as he tried to grasp what was unfolding. "What… what's going on here?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The lawyer, ever the professional, continued. "Next, your house was due for foreclosure this year, but it was purchased ahead of time by a very generous benefactor. Normally, this buyer would have to wait until the foreclosure date to take ownership of the property, but an exception has been made in this case."

Mikaela's eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, does that mean I'm getting kicked out? Is that even legal?"

The lawyer shook his head gently. "No, Miss Banes. Quite the opposite. The buyer wishes to gift the property to you. Since your father is in prison and unable to make the necessary payments in time, the house would have been lost. Instead, it's now yours. All you need to do is sign these papers."

He handed over another document, showing a bank transfer of $100,000 into her account. "Additionally, a sum of money has been deposited into your personal bank account."

Mikaela felt her knees buckle, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of information. Sam, beside her, looked utterly floored, his dreams of asking her out seeming petty in comparison to what was happening.

"You can take tonight to read through everything, Miss Banes," the lawyer said kindly. "I'll return tomorrow for the signed paperwork." He turned to leave but then stopped, as if remembering something. "Oh, Mary! The photo!" he called out.

A woman with a camera appeared seemingly out of nowhere, snapping a picture of Mikaela's stunned face. The flash jolted her out of her daze. "Wait, what was that for?" she asked, bewildered.

The lawyer chuckled softly, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "He said you'd ask that," he replied, opening the envelope and reading aloud. "'Surprised, aren't you? This is revenge for that kiss you stole the other night. Now you have to call me. Love, the man of your dreams. Winky face.'" He even winked, like a true professional.

Mikaela's heart skipped a beat. Only one man would say something like that, and she knew exactly who it was. Peter. Peter had done all of this—bought her house, the car, even deposited the money. And the photo? He wanted to see her reaction.

She could practically see his mischievous grin in her mind, that infuriating yet somehow charming smirk. She found herself blushing, unsure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. Every problem she'd faced just a moment ago seemed to dissolve, replaced by something new and unexpected.

Sam, on the other hand, looked like he'd just been punched in the gut. He'd been too slow, too late once again. Even now, someone else had managed to beat him to it, leaving him standing on the sidelines.

"If that will be all, Miss Banes," the lawyer said, bowing slightly, "we'll take our leave. We'll see you tomorrow." With that, he and the photographer walked away, leaving Mikaela standing there, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts.

As she slowly made her way into her house, papers and keys clutched in her hands, she knew she needed to call Peter. She had to talk to him, to understand why he'd done all this. Was this all just a rich guy's whim? Or was there something more?

Meanwhile, Sam stood there, watching her disappear inside, feeling like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He didn't know what to do, so he just turned and walked back to his car, driving off with a heavy heart, the girl he'd always admired slipping further out of reach…

A/N: 3701 words :) There was a poll up on patréon after this chapter to see what we should do with Sam since he's had it rough.

The choices were:

-Help him a little by giving him a car and a new GF(not Mikaela).

-Have him disappear completely.

-And lastly, turn him into a villain that helps the Decepticons.

The votes have already been counted and a winner was chosen. You'll see in the next few chapters.

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