𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ━ transformers

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨

The following days are filled with Dad, Ron, and Will going back to the base and me unpacking in my room and praying for a quick death as school looms around the corner. I do all my assignments, make sure they're all correct, before packing up my backpack and flinging it across my shoulders Monday morning, eyes bleary and head pounding. Alfonzo stays sleeping on my bed and I curse the sweet bliss that dogs are blessed with as I walk down the stairs.

I squint at Ron, who's waiting by the door with Dad and Will, and ignore the sudden swarm of butterflies in my stomach at a glance of him. Dad grins. "Morning, Ellie!"

My mouth purses and a grunt escapes my throat, unamused and tired. I cling to my straps and walk out into the frosty air. It's the end of November, almost December and the autumn weather is crucial, all bitter winds that leave us with frosted up windows and sniffling noses.

"Mighty cool today," Will comments. Dad and I hum in agreement. Ron, of course, seems to take in the cold weather in stride, a leather jacket strung over his shoulders and nothing else. I ignore the fact that it fits his form perfectly and climb in the back of the truck, melting into the warmth of the backseat.

"Mhm," I hum contentedly, curling into the cabin, seatbelt secure across my midriff. I sigh, eyes falling shut tiredly as the truck vibrates beneath me, comforting and familiar.

"Tired, Ellie?" Dad asks as he straps in beside me, his voice floating through my ears serenely. I can feel myself falling asleep.

I nod anyway. "Warm. Ironhide's warm. S'nice." I realize how weird it might seem for me to call the truck by its name like it's an actual person, but Dad and Will just laugh as though this is a normal occurrence. "What?" I say sluggishly, blinking hard at my dad.

A smile is painted on his lips. "Nothing, Ellie." His hand covers his mouth to hide a snicker, though, so I'm not too sure how truthful he's being right now.

Will is none the better, laughing openly in the front seat, and I am thoroughly confused by their weird behavior. My eyes flick to Ron, who's gripping the steering wheel tightly, his face sheet white. I conclude that Dad and Will were making fun of him or something, and curl back up into the seat, putty against the thrumming warmth.

"So," I ask as the truck turns onto the main streets, "is the truck military property or?"

I look at Dad specifically when I say this, since he's the one who will spill faster than anyone on this earth, and he shuffles in his seat.

"It complicated," he says, at last.

My brow raises. "How?" Seems like my peaceful lounging is about to be ruined by more deflecting and weird answers.

"The truck belongs to the military," Ron tells me curtly, eyes on the road. He sounds like any more discussion on the matter will result in bodily harm.

I wisely let it go and snuggle into the seats, willing the ride to last longer so I don't have to leave the comfort of the cabin. For a moment, I think of how far I've come-from being afraid to even step foot in a car to being able to cozy in a truck as though it were my own bed. My heart is content, and it warms me with gratefulness that I've got so many amazing people around me, helping me overcome my problems and inner turmoil.

My eyes fall shut and Ironhide thrums underneath me, sturdy and strong.

✦

Going to school is much more difficult than I had imagined. Staying up late had become something of a normality for me during Thanksgiving break, so coming back to school, getting up at six in the morning once more, is proving to be strenuous. My eyelids are heavy, my mind hazy with sleepy fog, but I struggle to listen to the principal's words.