Transformers Bumblebee: The Junior Novel

by Hasbro

  Tina deliberately bumped Charlie and said, “Oops,” then she and the other girls followed Tripp to his Camaro. The girls jumped in with him, and they squealed when he started the engine.

  Charlie watched the Camaro drive off. She carried the spoiled hot dogs and empty cups over to a trash bin and dumped them in. And then she went back to her job.

  Later, when Craig handed her an envelope with a check in it, she looked at it with surprise. She’d forgotten it was payday. Maybe there was some way to salvage something out of the wreckage that had been her Saturday.

  After work, and back in her street clothes, Charlie left the Boardwalk and rode her moped to Hank’s Marine Repair and Parts, better known as Uncle Hank’s, an establishment at the marina a few miles south of Main Street. On her way, she passed a recently built transmission tower, which was by far the tallest structure in Brighton Falls. The metal tower featured a mammoth dish antenna that dominated the skyline of the otherwise scenic marina. Many local citizens, including Uncle Hank, considered the tower among the ugliest structures on earth.

  Uncle Hank’s had started as a marina with a boating-supply store and repair shop, but Hank later developed the neighboring land so his operations included an automotive garage and an auto-salvage yard. Charlie left her moped outside the main building and found Hank seated behind the cashier’s counter, holding his black-and-white Pocketvision television. Charlie guessed Hank was around seventy-five years old, but she allowed for the possibility that he was pushing a hundred. He ran his fingers through the remaining hairs on his head to make sure they covered at least a portion of his bald spot, then he tilted his small TV back and forth, angling its extendable aerial in different directions as he tried to tune in to a signal.

  “Hey,” Charlie said.

  Without looking away from the Pocketvision’s screen, Hank said, “Still working on your Corvette?”

  Looking at his head, Charlie said, “Not as hard as you work on that comb-over.” She reached into a pocket, pulled out her paycheck, and held it out so Hank could see she had $52.50 to spend. “Payday. What have you got for me?”

  “Whatever you want,” Hank said with a shrug. “Russians are gonna bomb us all to smithereens anyway.”

  Charlie nodded. “You’re a fountain of positivity, Hank.”

  Taking a small crate with her, Charlie went outside. She worked her way past the boats in the marina and went to the higher ground, where upside-down fishing boats and broken-down cars rested in the salvage yard. She started looking for parts that she could use for the restoration of her Corvette. She’d found a few odds and ends, and placed them in her crate, when she climbed up onto an old speedboat that rested on a metal stand. She started poking around the boat’s belly and soon found and removed an ignition coil. She tossed it into the crate with the other parts, then jumped off the boat.

  Her jump caused the speedboat to rock on its stand and knock the boat next to it, and then that boat knocked another, which slipped off its stand. Startled, Charlie turned in time to see the third boat as it slipped. She also saw it snag and pull a moldy tarpaulin from a vehicle resting beside it. She could see only a small part of the vehicle, a yellow metal fender.

  She walked over to the partially covered vehicle and peeled back the tarp. She found a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, rusted and covered with cobwebs.

  “Hello,” Charlie said to the derelict Beetle. “Where’d you come from, and what can you do for me?” She knew that Volkswagens had rear-mounted engines and that the curved hood concealed a luggage compartment. Curious, she tried to open the hood, but it wouldn’t budge. Then she tried the driver’s door and managed to pull it open. As she climbed in, she didn’t notice a small hive of bees nesting in the wheel well. She also didn’t notice an unusual insignia in the middle of the steering wheel, an insignia that didn’t look anything like Volkswagen’s VW logo.

  Inside, the seat covers were frayed and smelled of mildew. Charlie was surprised to find a key in the ignition. She turned the key and was even more surprised when the engine sputtered to life and the radio kicked on. The engine noise lasted a full second before it died, but the radio stayed on, spewing white noise, loud crackling and hissing sounds.

  “No way,” Charlie said. She knew Uncle Hank routinely removed batteries from cars before placing them in the salvage yard, so finding one with a working battery seemed like a minor miracle. She rotated the radio’s tuning knob back and forth, searching for a station, but all she could hear was more white noise.

  Charlie was still rotating the tuning knob when she heard buzzing that had nothing to do with the radio. Several bees from the wheel well had drifted into the car. Charlie said, “Whoa!” She switched off the radio, launched herself out of the Beetle, and slammed the door behind her.

  She grabbed and carried her crate of scavenged parts back to Hank’s shop. After dumping the crate’s contents onto the counter, she said, “I’ll give you thirty bucks for all of it.”

  Hank glanced at the ignition coil that Charlie had taken from the speedboat. “I could get twice that for the coil alone.”

  “Yeah, but you won’t,” Charlie said.

  Hank shrugged.

  “Thanks, Hank,” Charlie said. “Hey, where’d you get that Beetle?”

  But Hank wasn’t listening. He was still fiddling with his Pocketvision TV and its aerial. “Nuts,” he said. “Ever since they put up that ugly transmission tower, I can’t get a signal to watch my news.”

  Charlie placed thirty dollars from her wallet on the counter and walked out, carrying the crate of parts to her moped. She secured the crate and took off, leaving the marina. As she rode past the transmission tower, she thought about how much Uncle Hank loathed it. He was right, she decided. The tower really was an eyesore.

  As she rode home, her thoughts drifted to Liz and Brenda, and she felt sad and angry all over again. She tried to push them out of her mind. She tried to think about the parts that she’d just bought and started planning how she would use them for her Corvette. She wished she could start the Corvette’s engine as easily as she’d started the old Beetle’s, but because the Corvette’s engine was still missing so many pieces, she knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

  But she also knew that the sooner she had a car, a working car, the sooner she could leave Brighton Falls. She wasn’t sure where she’d go, but she was tired of feeling stuck and wished she were gone already.

  She arrived at the cul-de-sac, left her moped in the driveway, and carried her crate into the garage. The garage had a worktable and numerous tools, including a bench grinder and a mechanic’s creeper for working beneath cars. It was also equipped with an old television and a VCR, which were on a small cart with wheels. The walls were lined with shelves that held everything from a stereo system to camping gear.

  The Corvette rested where it had been for the past several years. Charlie had convinced herself that she was eager to begin working on the Corvette, even on the night before her eighteenth birthday, but when she saw its incomplete engine on the industrial dolly and other parts laid out on the floor and on her workbench, she just sighed.

  She knew she was in for a long night.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Charlie said, talking to the Corvette.

  She was lying on the creeper, her legs sticking out from under the car. Her new acquisitions from Uncle Hank’s were spread out across a tarp on the floor beside her. “Of course you need a new valve, too,” Charlie muttered. “You need a new everything.”

  She groaned. Holding a grease rag, she slid out from under the car. She looked at all the parts she’d placed on the tarp, then at various parts within reach. She felt overwhelmed and defeated.

  “This is never gonna happen,” she said. She looked up at the ceiling. She thought of her father. “I can’t do it, okay? I give up. It’s never gonna happen.”

  She threw the grease rag aside and rose from the floor. She went through the door that connected the garage with the hous
e’s kitchen. The house had an open floor plan, and from the kitchen area, Charlie had a clear view into the living room. She saw her mother, stepfather, and brother on the sofa, laughing as they watched TV. She didn’t know what they were watching or why they were laughing so hard, and she wasn’t curious to find out. She just didn’t care.

  Without a word, she went upstairs to her bedroom and got into her pajamas. She glanced at the photo of herself with her father before she set the timer on her digital alarm clock, switched off the light on her night table, and crawled into bed. She didn’t have high expectations for her birthday, but maybe her family might try to surprise her. If that fell through, she’d have to find her own birthday plans, now that she knew she definitely wasn’t going to celebrate with Liz and Brenda.

  Things could be worse, she thought. You could be alone and completely forgotten, like that Beetle at Uncle Hank’s junkyard.

  She wondered how the yellow Beetle wound up at Uncle Hank’s. She was still thinking about it when she fell asleep, and when she began dreaming about driving to faraway places.

  Chapter 3

  On Sunday morning, when the radio of Charlie’s alarm clock clicked on to blast “Manic Monday” by the Bangles, Charlie was lying facedown on top of her covers. Without opening her eyes, she reached out and knocked the alarm clock off the night table.

  She dragged herself out of bed, stumbled to a stop before a mirror, and studied her reflection. Her face looked puffy, her pajamas were rumpled, and her hair was a disaster. “Happy eighteenth,” she said without a trace of enthusiasm.

  Still in her pajamas, she trudged down to the kitchen. Sally was wearing scrubs, and Ron was getting ready to head off to work. Charlie said, “Hey.”

  “Good morning, birthday girl,” Sally said. “You look… nice.”

  Charlie offered no response. She knew that she looked like a disaster.

  Sally said, “How does it feel, huh? You’re an official adult today! I miss eighteen. I had these boots that came up to here.” She patted her legs about two inches above her knees. “I was one hundred pounds soaking wet, toolin’ around town with my friends all night.” She turned to Ron. “What were you like at eighteen?”

  “Oh, you know,” Ron said, “motorcycle, long hair that went on for days. You wouldn’t have liked me.”

  Sally giggled, then picked up a box from the counter and handed it to Charlie. “Quick, open your gift, honey. I’m late for work.”

  “Thanks,” Charlie said, taking the box. She opened it and pulled out a bike helmet. The helmet was pink with daffodils painted on it. She wondered if the helmet was a gag gift, and if it might conceal another present, like an envelope with a check in it. She turned the helmet over in her hands so she could see every side of it, including the inside, but she found herself disappointed. She stared at the helmet, knowing she should say something. “A helmet,” she said. “With daffodils painted on it.”

  Sally nodded. “Ron and I keep reading the news about people on mopeds getting run down and having head injuries. You need to wear that from now on! I don’t care if it’s not the law, it’s our law. Oh, and I need you to be in charge of your brother today, too, okay? I know it’s your birthday, but… I need you to.”

  Charlie looked at her mother. “I can’t think of anything that would bring me more joy.”

  “Well, good, then,” Sally said, clearly sensing Charlie’s sarcasm, “because we’re out of other options.”

  Ron grinned. “I actually have a little gift for you, too, Charlie. It’s small, but from the heart.” He handed her a wrapped package.

  Charlie tore off the wrapping paper to find a book. She looked at the front cover. The title was SMILE FOR A CHANGE: The Benefits of a Positive Attitude! She didn’t know what to say. She looked at Ron.

  “A smile is a powerful thing,” Ron said, as if he had imparted incredibly serious information. “It releases endorphins, it makes you feel more positive, it says to the world, ‘I’m fun and approachable!’ There’s a whole chapter about how people who smile more often actually have more friends.”

  “Really,” Charlie said.

  “Yeah! They’ve studied it.” Ron tapped the book’s cover. “Wonderful book. I saw it and said, That’s for Charlie. I think it’s gonna change your whole outlook.” Ron’s mouth twisted into a broad, happy smile that showed off all his teeth.

  Sally smiled, too. Charlie didn’t. Ron and Sally were still smiling as they walked out of the house.

  Charlie left the gifts in the kitchen and returned to her bedroom. She flopped down onto her bed and squeezed her eyes shut. She hated everything. She wanted to feel better but didn’t know how or where to begin.

  She sat up and opened her eyes, and her gaze happened to fall on a picture she’d taped to the wall. The picture was a few years old, and it showed her laughing with Brenda and Liz. She pulled the picture down, crumpled it up, and tossed it into the wastebasket.

  She got out of bed and looked at the giant 1987 Chevrolet calendar hanging on the wall. She counted off the months until the following June, when—if all went according to plan—she would graduate from high school. “Ten more months,” she said, and winced. She didn’t want to be stuck in Brighton Falls for another second.

  She felt light-headed and weighted down at the same time. She sat on the edge of her bed. She looked at her alarm clock, which was still on the floor where she’d batted it, its cord still plugged into the nearby wall socket. She stared at the clock, waiting for the minute to change. It couldn’t change fast enough.

  Ten more months.

  “No,” she said, standing up fast. “Today. You have to take charge of your life today.”

  She paced back and forth, thinking. What should I do? What can I do? What can I do right now?!

  She looked around her room, and her eyes locked onto the photo of her with her father and the Corvette. And as she looked at the photo, an idea came to her. An idea that she didn’t have to think about twice. She knew it was a good idea, maybe the best she’d ever had.

  There was just one problem: Otis.

  Her brother wasn’t in his bedroom. She ran downstairs and looked for him in the living room and kitchen. She found Conan sleeping on the rug in front of the TV, but no sign of Otis. She heard a loud whack from outside. She ran out the front door and found Otis standing beside his skateboard as he placed a plank of wood up against a parked car’s front bumper to create a makeshift ramp.

  Charlie walked over to Otis, grabbed him by his shirt collar, and pulled him close to her. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “If you die while I’m gone, I will kill you, Otis. Do you hear me?”

  “Ew,” Otis said, squirming in Charlie’s grip. “Let go of me!”

  Charlie let him free with a smirk, and he stumbled backward. He glowered at her and said, “You’re lucky I didn’t pull a karate move and break your fingers off!”

  Charlie went over to her moped, climbed onto it, and took off at fifteen miles per hour, leaving Otis and the cul-de-sac behind.

  “I want the Beetle,” Charlie said.

  Seated at his desk in his supply shop’s office, Uncle Hank was baffled by Charlie’s statement. He said, “What?”

  “The yellow Beetle,” Charlie said. “I want it. I’ll make you a deal. If I get it started, it’s mine.”

  Hank thought about it for two whole seconds. “That doesn’t sound like a deal. That sounds like you just taking my car.”

  “If I get it started, I keep it and work here every day for a year. I’ll scrub the grease stains off your floors.”

  Hank kept his gaze on Charlie but cocked his head to the side. Charlie didn’t know whether he was considering her offer or thought she was crazy. She gestured to the file cabinets behind his desk and said, “I’ll organize every scrap of paper in this office. I’ll even detail your horrible, disgusting toilets.”

  Hank remained silent as he continued staring at Charlie.

  “It’s my birthday,” Charlie said.
“Please.”

  Hank could see the desperation in Charlie’s eyes. He shook his head. “Sorry. No deal.”

  Charlie blinked and pursed her lips. “But… why?”

  “’Cause we ain’t hiring. It’s yours, kid.”

  Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She turned and ran for the door.

  “And my toilets are gorgeous!” Hank shouted after her, but she was already through the door and running for the salvage yard.

  The Beetle was where she’d left it, under a tarpaulin at the end of a row of upside-down boats. She pulled off the tarp and looked at the Beetle. Even though it was covered with muck and patches of rust, she smiled as she inspected it. She couldn’t believe it was hers.

  She moved to the back of the car and popped the engine compartment. Sludge had caked over much of the air-cooled, four-cylinder engine. She got a rag and a brush to remove the sludge, then she borrowed some spare tools and solvents from Uncle Hank so she could work on the engine’s parts.

  Morning turned to late afternoon, and she was still tinkering with the engine. Her hands and face were smudged with grease when she finally worked up the nerve to get behind the wheel and test the ignition. She said, “Please please please…”

  She turned the key.

  Nothing.

  And then the engine sputtered to life.

  “Oh yes!” Charlie shouted. “Yes!” She patted the steering wheel. “I love you!”

  She was so happy and excited that she kissed the steering wheel and got a mouthful of dust. But the engine continued to purr.

  Several minutes later, she drove the Beetle out of the scrapyard. As she went past the windows of Uncle Hank’s shop, she honked the horn and waved. Hank smiled and waved back at her.

  Even though the Beetle’s engine still made weird sputtering noises, Charlie grinned as she drove it all the way home. She’d have to get her moped later, but it was worth it. She was parking the car in front of the garage when Otis came out of the house. He was eating a popsicle and had a small plastic bandage on his elbow.