Chapter Text
It was raining in Jasper.
You first noticed it at lunchtime, when your classroom sat empty. Hunched over your desk at the front of the room, you looked up as the familiar patter found the glass, each drop ticking softly against the window.
The ungraded papers in front of you were forgotten instantly, the weather a steady reprieve and something far more compelling than student assessments. When you’d been shipped from the East Coast eight years ago to the middle of nowhere, Nevada, you’d been certain you would never see rain here. Jasper was dust and heat and sky stretched too wide. And yet, just as you were beginning to forget there was anything beyond dry earth and sun-bleached roads, the rain arrived.
You rose from your chair and crossed to the window, lifting your gaze as dark clouds swallowed the afternoon light. Rain smacked the glass and splashed against the cement sidewalk outside the school. A smile bloomed on your face as the storm rolled closer, wind picking up, the lone tree beyond the parking lot swaying as if it had finally come alive. Gradually, you forgot where you were at all.
The sound of your last name jolts you as you whip your head around, abruptly ending the trance of the pouring sky. Your eyes lock onto dark hair and blue eyes and you smile as you clasp your hands in front of you.
You whipped your head around, the trance breaking as your eyes landed on dark hair and familiar blue eyes. You smiled, clasping your hands loosely in front of you.
“Hi, Jack,” you said, tilting your head as you returned to your desk and gathered one of the folders scattered beside it. “You can sit where you normally do. Fifth block will be starting soon anyway.”
Jack nodded, already slipping his phone into the pouch hanging by the door. One strap of his backpack hung off his shoulder as he moved down the aisle and settled into his usual seat at the back of the room—close to the window, where he could stare out just as often as you did.
You pulled a blank test from the folder and grabbed a spare pencil, boots clacking softly as you crossed the room. You placed the paper face down on his desk and handed him the pencil with a smile. “Ready?”
He takes the pencil from you and looks up. “You’re acting like this is the hardest reading quiz you've given us all year. It’s just The Princess Bride.”
You laughed and returned to your seat, glancing up at the clock. “Considering how some of your classmates have done, it might be. But if anyone’s going to be mad if you fail, you know it won’t be me.”
Jack rolled his eyes, and the gesture made you smile as you watched the second hand crawl toward the top of the hour. When it finally reached twelve, you gave him a thumbs up. You heard the paper turn, graphite whispering across the page as he began.
Though you still had tests to grade, your attention drifted back to the window. Rain wrapped the building in sound, drumming against the roof and streaking the glass beside you as the gray sky dimmed the room.
Your gaze found the tree again, chin resting in your palm as you leaned into your hand, watching the rain breathe life into the driest place you’d ever lived.
More than anything, it made you want to go home.
Jack finished his test before the bell rang, your next class filing into the room and settling. You wrote “studying story archetypes through films” on the whiteboard to let your 5th period know it was movie day, the old VHS case sitting on the rolling projector as Westley screams his famous line while tumbling down the hill. Not that your students necessarily cared. It was the Friday before spring break, and everyone’s brain had already clocked out.
Yours included.
You graded the rest of the papers in the meantime. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle though the clouds remained dark overhead, and the change in force allowed you time to focus elsewhere. That, and the eyes of your students, either staring at the projector next to you, or crinkling up with something their friends said, or effectively glued to the back of their own eyelids.
You finished grading the second to last one, putting them aside when you saw your own scribble of Jack’s name on his test. You look up to find him completely zoned out from his peers around him, the pencil you gave him turning in his fingers. You look back down at the paper before you pick up your own red pen and scroll through his answers.
He had been out on Tuesday when everyone else had taken the test, and when you asked June about it, she said she didn’t even know he had been absent. You scratched it off as some light teenage activity, but even then, something didn’t feel all that right. Jack was a good kid, not one that would usually skip school, and he was actually beginning to hang out with Rafael, a very intelligent student you had last year, who would never dip his toes into being a rebel against education.
The thoughts chewed your brain as you ran through the test, biting your lip as you marked only one question wrong and wrote a big “19/20” at the top with a smiley face. That was another thing, too, that Jack always read the books in your class in time for when you gave reading assessments, and he never had a problem with them, either. You didn’t think he would skip just because he hadn’t finished reading the book by test day, but there was still no viable, standout option in your brain that made sense for Jack.
June hadn’t pushed it, at least you tried to reason with her not to. You thought it was best to let Jack have his space and come forward to talk about it when he was ready. You knew that wouldn’t stop June for very long, but it would at least give him some headway to figure himself out. After all, even when he was just a boy knocking at your door with his mother, you had always rooted for him.
You had known June for years, as she was one of the few people in town who came straight to your door the minute you and your brother had settled in to welcome you. And when your brother left you here in Jasper all by yourself, she was there to help keep you on your feet, too.
The bell rang suddenly, your thoughts of the Darbys quickly leaving your brain as you got up from your desk, smiling when your students said goodbye as you wished them a happy spring break in turn. Jack gave an awkward salute as he headed for the door, and you gave him a thumbs up in turn, hoping to convey that he did well.
Your sixth and final period flies by. Emails, grades, chaos. Everyone is feeling restless and ready to escape. By the time the final bell rings, you can feel the buzz of freedom all the way in your bones.
You smile as your last student walks out the door and keep it a crack open as you finish putting in grades, before you log out of your computer and shut it off. You slide some papers and folders into your bag and zip it up, looking around your classroom. You find only some large scraps of trash and pick them up, hoping to give the custodians a smaller job as you stack some leftover chairs and tidy up a few of the desks.
You’re lowering the blinds when you hear a friendly knock on your door, and you look over your shoulder to see Principal Werner.
Principal Werner, as it turns out, used to be your high school government teacher, back when you were younger and attended the same high school you work at now. While there was a steady income from wherever your brother was working, it wasn’t enough to keep you well on your feet during your junior year of college. Mr. Werner came to you and said he had been promoted to Principal after the last one was fired for a disturbing interest in trading cards, and he offered you a position once you graduated. So, you worked your butt off to get your degree as early as you could, paying for college with the money your parents were setting aside from their own paychecks and sending to you, and took the job. You had wanted to go to graduate school, as teaching wasn’t something you foresaw yourself doing right away in your career, but you didn’t think you were going to be here for more than a few years. And working would help pay for more educational opportunities so you didn’t have to rely on your parents across the country.
You had to stay and wait for your brother, after all.
Principal Werner offered a grin to you as you motioned for him to come in, and you rounded to your desk as you tried to neatly organize your bag with your folders and binders before zipping it up and swinging it over your shoulder.
“Taylor had to leave early, but she said she sent you, Eli and Peter the updated curriculum for the 4th quarter. Besides looking over that, there’s nothing else you need to do over spring break-except maybe the prom committee again.”
You sighed lightly. “I know, I know. I’ll see what I can do. I really don’t want to work over break, but if you need me…”
Werner waved you off and smiled. “You know how much I value your attention with these things, but the prom committee can survive without you.”
“Are you sure? I can try to-”
“If we desperately need you, I’ll call. But you’re allowed to take a break, too. Besides, surely you have plans?”
“I’m not leaving town, if that’s what you're asking.”
Something softened in his expression, but he nodded. “Just let me know if you need anything. June and I will be around.”
You hear his message loud and clear and smile, both understandingly and apologetically. “I’ll try not to shut myself out from civilization, okay?”
He nods and smiles charmingly in return, satisfied. “Then I wish you a very restful spring break.”
He drums his fingers on the desk he stands near before he gives you a small wave, heading out the room and down the hall to another English classroom.
You lift up your bag and swing it gently to rest on your shoulder, taking one last sweep of your classroom before you head for the door. You’re about to turn the knob and step out when the sight of a small, displaced rectangle catches your eye. You take the phone out of the pouch cubbies and hold it in your hand, heaving out another breath as you recognize it.
KO burger for dinner it is, then.
After sending a text to June to let her know you had Jack's phone and losing yourself in the book you started in bed last night for a few hours, you head back into the heart of Jasper with your teacher attire still on, which consists of a floral dress and cardigan, tights and knee-high boots.
You press your foot on the break of your Jetta at a red light, stopping at the intersection that has the left turn into KO burger, your eyes looking over at the building as you debate the best method to get Jack his cellphone without embarrassing him, at least not too much. You could go inside, and it would be a much quicker interaction than the drive through. Or you could use the drive through where there would be less opportunity for anyone else to see you. A red semi pulls up next to you, the color and the build of it momentarily stealing your gaze, and by the time the arrow turns green, the drive-through wins.
On your way in, you pass by Jack’s new motorcycle, the blue color gleaming at you in the rain as you slow down on the road, the arrows pointing your way in. You reach the microphone, and you smile when you hear Jack’s voice through the speaker as you roll your window down.
“Welcome to KO Drive-In where every patty is a knockout, may I take your order?”
“Hey Jack,” you respond, unable to contain the grin from seeping into your voice, “Can I get a #8, 4 piece with fries and a water? Also, you forgot your phone in my class.”
There’s a pause before a sigh rolls over the speaker, and you bite your lip hard and shake your head, the smile wide on your face. “That’ll be $8.42. I’ll see you at the window.”
You roll up to the window and give Jack a slow turn of your head as you meet his gaze, a cheeky grin on your face. He scratches the back of his head and pulls his mouth into a then line, the faintest blush creeping on his cheeks.
You laugh and pull the phone you placed in your cup holder into your palm and hand it through the rolled down window. “It was still in the phone cubby. I noticed before I left.”
He takes it and sighs. “Thanks. My mom would have killed me if I left it there all break.”
You hand out your card to him after he takes his phone and pockets it. “You know I would have gone in and gotten it for you when you realized.”
He swipes your card, nodding.
“I still don’t want to cause you more trouble.”
You smile at him softly as he hands it back to you. “You’re no trouble at all, Jack. And actually, I was really impressed with your answer for that question about framing narrative influencing the reader’s perception. That one threw some of the others through a loop for sure.”
“You…you were?”
You smile positively. “Yeah, it was good.”
“Probably had something to do with how often my mom has made me watch that movie.”
You laugh. “Maybe a little. It helps that you actually read the book, too. I thought something fun like The Princess Bride right before spring break would have been easy, but I guess everyone is too caught up on vacations and whatnot.”
“It wasn’t all that bad, actually. I-“
A shrill honk interrupts Jack before he can say more, and with annoyance he leans over the window to look behind you, his eyes hard before they widen and he leans back in, his actions quick and jagged.
“Uh, let me grab your food.”
You lift your eyebrow and look into the side mirror, noting the motorcycle and leather-clad figure behind you. Its blue paint glistens as the rain falls a little harder.
It looks exactly like Jack’s.
Your eyes narrow and you look at the closed window as the rain falls a little harder, and Jack pops it open with a bag of takeout and a plastic cup of water with a straw in his hands, handing it quickly over to you as drops fall and wet the bag.
“Thanks again for my phone. I guess I’ll see you around?”
He smiles, nervous and awkward, his eyes still darting to the motorcycle behind you, as if trying not to lean out again just to get closer to it.
Maybe that is Jack’s.
“Are you okay? Isn’t that your-”
“No! No. Just. I think I’ve got more customers to get to. Some are just being impatient.”
You hear his message loud and clear and smile, both understandingly and apologetically. You must have been holding up a line. You make sure the food next to you is secure as you drive down the side of the building, the arrows guiding you once again, and stop as a car drives ahead of you and into the drive through. While you’re stopped, your eyes dart up to your rearview mirror, catching a glance at an exasperated Jack and the driver of his look alive motorcycle leaned slightly in his direction.
Jesus, did he let a girl on his bike?
You snap out of it and drive forward, pulling into a parking space a little to the side of the drive through exit, shifting into park as your eyes dart back to the almost heated exchange between Jack and the motorcycle. In almost the blink of an eye, the figure on the motorcycle zooms out of the drive through and down the street, with Jack leaning out the window looking after her, yelling a name you’ve never heard.
You feel the pressure in your chest and the worry clench in your stomach, and you take one more look at Jack in the rearview before you pull out of the parking lot and drive down the street, your eyes peeled for the leather figure and Jack’s motorcycle.
Should I call June?
You feel the anxiety grow even stronger in your stomach as you debate how involved you should be in this. You’re close with the Darbys, yes, but Jack is mature and responsible, and he’s probably going to be fine and work it out even when June comes for his head. What if it wasn’t stolen? But it did look like she just drove off with it, and he looked pretty mad about that. But he still kept working, so wouldn’t that mean he wasn’t super concerned about who had his bike-
You hear a zoom to your right and look over to find the motorcycle making a sharp right turn down a narrow street, and your heart pounds as you merge all the way and turn right behind her. The motorcycle speeds up to be in front of a few cars ahead of you, and you attempt to look over the top of the cars to try to spot the helmet zipping around.
You’re about to press your foot harder on the gas when the light in front of you abruptly changes to yellow, and you use your heel to shift to the brake as you press down hard, sending the car jutting to a stop. You breathe out hard, your hands gripping the steering wheel in front of you, and you wonder if you should keep going as you watch the motorcycle drive straight forward, narrowly missing having to stop as if all the traffic lights magically turn green when she needs them to.
You feel a pang of fear and anger in your heart, and it’s then that your decision is made.
You push hard on the gas as the light above you turns green, the Jetta bursting forward as it moves to try to catch up to the bike. Your heart hammers in your chest as the motorcycle makes a sharp turn left, zooming towards the edge of town, and you lose sight of her for a few moments as the line of buildings pass before they end, and the motorcycle is parked in an empty lot, the rider stationary on the bike.
You slowly make your way into the lot, pulling over near the entrance as you unbuckle your seatbelt and survey the area, but no one is here besides the leather clad figure on Jack’s bike who remains so perfectly still you wonder if she’s even there at all.
You bite your lip, and before you can think it through, you get out of your car and walk over, your boots clacking on the cement beneath you.
The motorcycle looks relatively undamaged as you get closer to it, and you whip your head around to look behind you anxiously, noting how alone and open you are as you stop near the bike rider.
“Excuse me,” you say softly, your voice solid. “Are you the owner of this bike? I just want to make sure it’s not my friend’s and that it wasn’t stolen.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and you grip your phone in your other hand, anxiously awaiting her to say or do something that will have you dialing June’s number. And then she speaks.
“I know Jack. He was…letting me take a spin on his ride while he was at work. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue-”
“I’m sorry, but how do you know him?”
She lets out an agitated exhale, and the firmness of it has you clutching your arms around you protectively, the interaction only tripling the racing of your heart.
“We’re friends, we’re in the same biology class. Look, lady, I really need-”
Your face hardens slightly, and you cut her off again. “Biology is a freshman class. Jack is a sophomore.”
“...Scrap.”
You give her a stern, pointed look, pulling your arms tighter around you, the stance you’ve done countless times with your students.
“Don’t move. I’m calling the police.”
You pull your phone up and unlock it, dialing 911 and about to press the call button when a low rumble stops you in your tracks, and you whip your head around to see three dark colored cars moving towards the lot, parking right near the motorcycle as the rumble of their engines shuts off, and they face the motorcycle as if waiting for something more. The windows are so dark you can’t see the drivers.
“What on-”
“Get back to your car.” The thief’s helmet leans ever so slightly in your direction before it faces towards the cars in front of you. “Now.”
“I’m not leaving until my student gets his bike back, thank you.”
She grumbles hard. “You need to back off. This isn’t something for you to be in the middle of.”
You stay planted exactly where you are, looking up at the cars with that same look on your face, your eyebrows slightly furrowed as you frown at them before looking back down at the bike. “I don’t care. I’m good right here. I’m sure the cops would love to interrupt whatever back-alley meeting is happening here, anyway.”
You pick your phone back up, 911 staring back up at you as your thumb hovers over the dial, when a strike of lightning and a loud bolt of thunder startles you, the cement beneath you slick with rain, and you look up from your phone and towards the sound.
It’s only then that you realize the noise wasn’t thunder. Rather, it was the sound of metal clashing and whirring against itself, one of the cars in front of you breaking apart, but instead of falling down it builds up. The car almost seems to fall into itself and yet also extend past its original frame farther than what you ever thought was possible, and you’re unable to turn your eyes away until the loud noise stops, and standing tall in the air above you is the car.
Except it’s not a car. It’s not a car at all, no, it’s taken the shape of a person, a humanoid. A giant, mechanical, moving being with a body that looks so strikingly similar to yours.
Your eyes widen and you instinctively take a step back.
The heel of your boot lands in a small dent in the ground, and your whole foot soaks itself into a puddle as your whole ankle goes in. You try to steady yourself, and it only causes you to fall backward, your butt hitting the hard concrete beneath you of the lot, the rain causing you to slide as your tights grow more damp from the puddle, the edges of your dress dark with water, your phone shattering on the ground beside you.
The remaining cars tore themselves apart and rebuilt in seconds, towering figures closing ranks. Beside you, the motorcycle split at the seams, pieces peeling away and snapping into something smaller, leaner, alive. Its face turned toward you, because it did have a face complete with a mouth and eyebrows and eyes that flashed with unmistakable irritation in your direction, before it launched itself at the others.
You can’t look away as the motorcycle yells, the cars attacking back, two of them busying themselves with the smaller, navy blue robot (that’s what they look like though your brain is having a lot of trouble processing that information), and one of them has its red visor locked on you as it stalks past the fight next to it and in your direction.
You don’t think as your palms grasp the cement behind you, and you're pushing yourself off the wet ground and running across the lot towards the exit, the feet of the car behind you shaking the ground as you gasp harshly for air. You care all too much about this back-alley meeting now that your life is at stake by giant transforming robots. You run.
The exit of the lot, the open gate, is so close you think if you reach out as far as possible and grab the railing you can grasp it just barely, but a loud honk and a sudden large, vivid movement of another vehicle entering the lot has you swerving to the side and landing on the ground again as a red semi drives straight into the car that was after you.
And then it’s happening all over again, except this time it’s louder and bulkier and bigger, but there’s a precision to it this time, too, as if all the pieces of the truck fit so perfectly into the transformer it becomes. Steel flowing and locking with brutal precision. Broad shoulders. Massive arms. Exhaust stacks settling against its back as it drove a single, devastating punch into one of the cars, smashing it into the concrete.
The impact rattles your teeth.
An illuminating blue gaze looks towards the motorcycle, who has largely taken care of the two other cars, before the blue light turns around and faces you and stops, its head heavily casted downwards as it stands so tall, double the height of the motorcycle and maybe even more so. Eyes that meet your own and a cover on its features the motorcycle doesn’t have that conceals so much, but its eyes are still so overwhelming, sucking in your gaze to the point that you don’t know if you could ever look away.
The ground shakes, the tall bot taking a few careful, deliberate steps towards you, cornering you away from the exit. Your eyes grow wide as you back away, flickering between the blue light and the open gate, and it sees this movement and stops, tilting its head ever so slightly as if curious by your reaction.
Beautiful, some reckless part of your brain whispers as your eyes whizz up and down and all over it as you try to understand this creature, but you don't. You can't. You swallow hard, your eyes staying locked on its own.
“What the fuck?”