by Hasbro
Otis looked at the Beetle, and his face scrunched up with disgust. “What are you doing with that hunk of junk?”
“Don’t worry about it, Otis,” Charlie said as she got out of the car.
“You were gone for five hours,” Otis said. He held up his arm and displayed his bandage. “My elbow bled. If you think I’m not telling Mom on you, you’re dead wrong.”
Charlie placed her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. “Otis, how about you try being a decent human being for once in your life, and just say, ‘Happy birthday, Charlie.’”
Otis shifted his gaze to the ground and shuffled his feet. Charlie guessed he felt guilty. “Get the hose,” she said. “You’re gonna help me wash it.”
Otis snorted. “No, I’m not.”
So much for guilt, Charlie thought, but she knew how to handle her brother. She said, “Do you want rides to places, or not?”
Otis raised his eyebrows, and Charlie knew she had him.
They gathered cleaning supplies from the garage, and Charlie put Otis to work. They brushed off the dust, dirt, and cobwebs from the Beetle’s exterior before Charlie used a long stick to remove the now-abandoned beehive from the wheel well. They buffed the rust off the fenders, and Charlie coaxed out a dent on the passenger door. She tried again to open the Beetle’s hood, but it remained stuck in place.
Otis helped Charlie wash the car with soap and water before he wandered into the garage to play a video game on the garage’s television. As Charlie carried a bucket of filthy suds to the drain in the driveway, the Beetle began to roll, moving slowly after her. Charlie heard a squeaking noise, turned to see the Beetle inching toward her, and thought, This car must want to keep me close. She laughed as she stepped around to the driver’s side of the car, reached in, and jammed on the hand brake. No need to let her dream roll away on the very first day.
She used her mother’s cordless vacuum to clean the Beetle’s filthy interior. When she was done, the sun was beginning to set. The Beetle’s yellow exterior looked much cleaner and brighter, and Charlie was exhausted. She took a few steps back to admire the car and said, “It looks amazing.”
Otis looked away from his video game, saw Charlie standing beside the Beetle, and said, “It still looks like something a homeless hippie lives out of.”
Charlie smirked. It didn’t matter. She was already thinking about all the places she’d drive. Charlie Watson had a car.
Chapter 4
Charlie felt very proud as she drove the Beetle down Main Street in Brighton Falls. Otis looked less enthusiastic as he sat in the front passenger seat. Clearly, he was hoping none of his friends would see him riding in such a junky car.
“You’re too young and dumb to understand this now,” Charlie said, “but a car means freedom. Independence. A car changes everything.”
Otis rolled his eyes. He started to ask Charlie about a suspicious-looking hole in the upholstery—a bullet hole? But before he could get a word out, the Beetle made a coughing noise and released a dark puff of smoke from its tailpipe. The noise made Otis jump in his seat.
Charlie turned on the Beetle’s radio and tried to tune in several stations, but all she got was screeching static. She switched off the radio and wondered if she could get a cheap replacement at Uncle Hank’s. The Beetle made grinding, rumbling noises as she brought it to a stop at a red light.
“What’s that racket?” Otis said. Other motorists were staring at the Beetle. “Oh no. Everyone is looking at us!” Looking even more embarrassed, he slid down low in the seat.
The light turned green, and Charlie started driving forward. The Beetle traveled only a few feet before it made a sad, choking noise, and then the engine stalled, bringing the Beetle to a dead stop in the middle of the intersection. The driver behind Charlie leaned into his horn.
“Chill out!” Charlie said. She restarted the Beetle. It lurched two more feet into the intersection and stalled again. More cars started honking. “Oh, come on, come on!”
Tina Lark, driving her convertible, pulled around the Beetle and glanced at it with disgust. The honking continued. Someone shouted, “Learn to drive, loser!”
Charlie turned the key again and waited. The Beetle sputtered. Otis turned to face her and said, “Happy birthday, Charlie.” Then he got out of the car, slammed the door, and started walking back to their house.
Night had fallen by the time Charlie managed to get the Beetle back home and into the garage. She hit the steering wheel. “You stupid car!” She got out, slammed the door, and felt her frustration turn into rage. Without thinking, she kicked the front bumper. The front right section of the car fell against the garage floor with a loud clank.
“Oh great,” Charlie said. She knelt to inspect the damage. She was surprised to see that the section that had fallen was still partially attached to the car. Then she noticed that the damaged piece resembled a mechanical arm.
She looked closer and saw things that shouldn’t have been on the car: strange joints and cogs that were definitely not original parts. She said, “What the heck?”
She traced one joint back to where it disappeared under the hood, which still wouldn’t open. Hoping to see more of the joint, she lay down on the creeper and pushed herself under the Beetle. She couldn’t find anything unusual. She examined the drive shaft and shock absorbers. Everything looked normal.
Then she noticed something strange. Two blue lights, inches above her, began to radiate. The Beetle’s front axle snapped in two, spun, and locked into the muffler with a thunk. And then all across the undercarriage, parts began moving, snapping, and reconnecting.
Charlie’s eyes went wide, and her body froze against the creeper. She was afraid to budge as the chassis and molding peeled back and started to reorganize their forms, like shape-shifting building blocks. And then the car began to rise, pushing itself up from the floor. As the last parts clunked into place, Charlie realized that the Beetle was no longer a car at all.
It was a twelve-foot-tall, giant yellow robot.
The robot was stooped over to keep his head and shoulders from scraping against the garage’s ceiling. His head held two electric-blue eyes, and both gazed straight at Charlie.
Charlie’s mouth fell open, but she was too frightened to scream. Keeping her eyes locked on the robot, she rolled off her creeper and scrambled to her feet. She backed away until she hit the door that led into the house. As she fumbled for the doorknob, she watched the robot retreat from her and bump into the far wall. An old kite had been resting on a high shelf, but at the robot’s impact, the kite fell from the shelf and fluttered down onto his head.
The kite’s string also fell around the robot. The robot turned his head as he raised his metal hands, and the movement tangled the string around his neck and fingers. As he struggled with the string, Charlie thought the robot looked concerned and anxious, and also less menacing.
Still hunched over in the cramped garage, the robot freed himself from the kite and string and placed the kite back on the shelf. The robot looked again at Charlie, and something about his eyes made Charlie certain that he wasn’t a threat. She realized he was terrified.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from the door and looked closer at the robot’s body. She recognized the Beetle’s headlights and grille and other VW parts that she had washed with care just a few hours earlier. She didn’t know how her Beetle had changed into a robot, but she had no doubt that the robot was somehow also her car and her responsibility.
A loud knocking came from the door behind Charlie. And then she heard her mother from the other side. “Charlie? What was that noise?”
“Nothing!” Charlie said. “I’m fine, I—” She turned around and saw the doorknob turn. She leaped toward the door, hoping to stop it from opening, but she wasn’t fast enough. As her mother peered into the garage, Charlie tried to block her view. “Everything’s cool, Mom. Go back to bed.”
But Sally gazed past Charlie and said, “What the heck is that
?”
Charlie squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing what to say. Then her mother said, “What’s that car doing in our garage?”
Charlie opened her eyes and turned around. The robot was no longer in sight, but in his place was the old yellow Beetle, resting on its tires beside the Corvette. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, that car. It’s mine. Uncle Hank gave it to me.”
Surprised, Sally said, “What? When?”
“Today. It actually runs.”
Sally frowned. “It looks like it was pulled out of a swamp.”
“Okay, Mom,” Charlie said, sounding stung, as if she didn’t want her car to hear such negative comments. “It’s sitting right there.”
“I wish you would’ve told me before you just brought it home.”
“Anyway,” Charlie said, “I’m in the middle of some stuff, so…” She gestured for her mother to leave.
“All right, fine,” Sally said. “I’ll get out of your hair. But tell me things next time. I’m your mother.” She left the garage and closed the door behind her.
Charlie waited, listening to her mother’s footsteps. When she was sure her mother had gone back to bed, she approached the Beetle again. Keeping her voice low, she said, “You still… in there?”
The Beetle did not respond in any way.
Nervous, Charlie reached out and brushed her fingers across the side of the car. The Beetle’s right fender fell again and hit the floor with another loud clank. The noise made Charlie flinch away from the car. “Okay, all right,” she said. “Little jumpy, sorry.”
She bent down to study the broken piece and realized that it was indeed one of the robot’s arms. Moving with care, she reached out and tightened a loose joint where the arm connected with the car. She was still twisting at the joint when the car started to rearrange its shape again, shifting back into robot form.
Charlie held her breath and tried not to freak out. As the robot stood up, a piece of one shin flopped down and clanged against the floor. The robot reached down and tried to put the piece back on, but it wouldn’t stay. The robot tried four more times before he swung hard at his own shin, banging the piece into place. He left a dent in the metal, but the piece held.
“That’s one way to do it,” Charlie said. She took a step back from the robot so she had a better view of him. “Hi.”
The robot emitted a low buzzing noise.
“Are you… do you speak?”
The robot opened his mouth and tried to answer but produced only broken electronic noises. He shook his head and tried again but failed. He moved his metal fingers up to his neck and touched his damaged throat. A whirring noise that sounded almost like a whimper came from the side of his neck. He looked at Charlie and backed away from her.
“I won’t hurt you,” Charlie said. She trembled as she moved closer. She reached out to touch one of his arms and hoped that he would understand she wanted to help.
The robot looked at Charlie’s hand, which was tiny compared with his own. He lowered his head until his metal cheek pressed against her hand. Charlie looked at the robot’s wide face. She blinked. He blinked in response.
Charlie whispered, “Can you understand me?”
The robot nodded.
“What are you?”
The robot looked at the ceiling.
“Where did you come from?”
The robot shook his head. Charlie wondered how much, if anything, the robot knew about his past or about his own identity. She said, “It’s okay; we’ll take it slow.”
The robot extended one of his big metal fingers to gently tap Charlie’s chest. Charlie was wearing a T-shirt with a logo from one of her favorite bands. She looked down at it and said, “You like my shirt? You’re a heavy metal fan?”
The robot shook his head. He tapped her chest again, then cocked his head, and Charlie guessed he was trying to ask a question.
“Me?” she said. “You want to know who I am?”
The robot nodded.
“My name is Charlie. Charlie Watson. I’m eighteen. Today, actually.” She smiled. “What’s your name?”
The robot shook his head again.
“You don’t have a name, or you’re not sure?”
The robot emitted a pitiful buzzing noise.
“Aw, you sound like a sad bumblebee,” Charlie said. “How about I call you that for now? Bumblebee. Goes with your outfit, too.” She gestured to the robot’s yellow-and-black form.
The robot shrugged.
Charlie glanced at a clock and realized she couldn’t stay in the garage all night without making her mom suspicious. Her mom would definitely want to check in on her and would notice if she wasn’t in her room.
Bumblebee saw Charlie start for the door and shifted his body parts until he once again looked like an old, dinged-up Beetle.
Great, Charlie thought.
Charlie left the garage and went to her messy bedroom. She was almost asleep when it occurred to her that she still knew practically nothing about Bumblebee, including where he’d come from or how he’d wound up at Uncle Hank’s salvage yard. As she drifted into sleep, she had the distinct impression she should keep Bumblebee’s “ability” a secret.
No one else could know that he was anything other than an old Volkswagen Beetle.
No one.
Miles away, two Cybertronians argued in the desert. Named Shatter and Dropkick, they were on a mission to hunt down the annoyingly hidden B-127. Sent to this backwater planet by their leader, they knew B-127 was somewhere in the area. If only the coward would show his face, they could capture him and be done with it. And then the fun would begin.…
Chapter 5
Charlie was so eager to see Bumblebee that she woke up before her alarm clock went off. She pulled on her bathrobe, grabbed her toothbrush, and squeezed a dollop of toothpaste onto it. She brushed her teeth as she ran down the stairs to the kitchen. She bounded past Otis, who was pouring himself a large bowl of cereal, and Ron, who was on his way out the front door. “Mornin’,” Charlie said as she yanked the toothbrush out of her mouth. “See you later.”
Ron said, “Where are you off to so fast?”
“Nowhere. Have a nice day!” She spat toothpaste into the sink and smiled at Ron and Otis before she sprinted for the door to the garage.
Otis said, “What’s wrong with her?”
Obviously believing his present to Charlie must have had a very positive effect on her, Ron smiled and said, “Sometimes, all you need is the right advice.” He held his head high as he left the house.
Still carrying her toothbrush, Charlie entered the garage and said, “Mornin’, Bumblebee. How do you—?”
Charlie froze. Bumblebee wasn’t in the garage.
“Bee? Where are you?” Charlie walked in a circle, searching the garage’s walls, shelves, and storage bins for any sign of the shape-shifting Beetle. She found nothing. Her toothbrush fell from her hand. She started to panic.
She ran out of the garage and into the front yard. She’d hoped to find Bumblebee parked on the street, but he wasn’t there, either. Looking up the street, she saw Ron driving away in the station wagon.
“Oh, Bumblebee,” Charlie muttered, “where did you go?” She was so preoccupied with her search that she didn’t notice a dark-haired boy emerge from the house next door. The boy was Memo, who still had yet to successfully introduce himself to Charlie. He was holding a superhero comic, but when he saw Charlie, he tossed the comic into a nearby bush so she wouldn’t think he was a nerd.
Charlie ran back into her house. Frantic, she entered the kitchen, saw her brother eating his cereal, and said, “Otis, have you seen my car?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Otis said between mouthfuls, “and my eyes are still scarred.”
Charlie resisted the urge to scream. “Have you seen my car today?!” She gestured to the door to the garage. “It’s gone. Someone stole it.”
“No, idiot,” Otis said. “Mom took it. She had to
take Conan to the vet. He ate a rubber glove or something, and Ron needed the station wagon.”
Realizing that no one had stolen Bumblebee, Charlie exhaled with relief and said, “Oh, thank goodness.” But then she considered what Otis had said about their mom taking the car, and she said, “Wait.”
And then she realized waiting was a bad idea.
With her bathrobe flapping at her legs, Charlie ran out of the house again and jumped onto her moped. Memo walked over to her and said, “Hello, me again, we never officially met. We just moved in, and I wanted to—”
“Sorry! Can’t right now.”
“Nope. Yep. Okay.”
Memo sadly watched Charlie speed off on her moped.
Seated behind the wheel of the yellow Beetle, Sally Watson drove through a Brighton Falls neighborhood, trying to soothe Conan, who groaned as he lay on the back seat.
“I know, buddy,” Sally said. “Hang in there. You can’t eat everything you see. This is a good life lesson for you.”
If Sally had glanced in her rearview mirror, she might have seen Charlie on her moped, racing to catch up with Bumblebee. But Bumblebee somehow spotted Charlie traveling behind him, and he extended his robot arm to wave at her.
Conan looked out the window and started barking.
Approaching an intersection, Sally began to slow down, and Charlie was able to pull up beside the Beetle. Sally looked out her window. Seeing Charlie on the moped, Sally jerked back against her seat and said, “What are you doing, Charlie?”
“Mom, you have to pull over!”
Sally noticed that Charlie was wearing a bathrobe. “What’s going on?”
While Charlie seemed to struggle for a good answer, she pointed to the curb and said, “Park there.”
After Sally pulled over to the curb, Charlie got off her moped and leaned on her car. She whispered just loud enough so Sally couldn’t make out her saying, “Stop it. Put your robot stuff away.”
