Raining Sunshine: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs {Flint x OC} [Rewrite]

Prologue

"Have you ever felt like you were a little bit different? Like you had something unique to offer the world, if you could just get people to see it? Then you know exactly how it felt... To be me,"

A young Flint Lockwood, around the age of eight, raised his hand where he sat at the back of the classroom. His teacher sighed. "Go ahead, Flint,"

Young Flint smiles, walking nervously to the front of the class where they are presenting their science projects. Flint cleared his throat. "What is the number one problem facing our community today? Untied shoelaces," he motioned to his classmates shoelaces, which were all untied. "Which is why I've invented a laceless alternative foot covering, Spray-On Shoes,"

He pulled out the can, lying on his back to apply the spray onto his bare feet. "Voila!" Flint grinned, motioning to his feet.

The other kids looked impressed, muttering to each other. But the mood fell when a smirking Brent leaned forward in his seat. "How're you gonna get 'em off, nerd?"

Flint's eyes widened, dropping the can as he tugged and strained to take off the Spray-On Shoes, but it wouldn't come off. Brent and the other kids laughed at his misfortune, pointing at Flint to mock him. "What a geek! He wants to be smart, but that's lame!"

Just then, the bell rang, signalling the end of the day. Brent and the kids got up, running out of the classroom. Flint, however, flopped onto the floor, clearly upset.

~~~~~~

This bad luck seemed to continue as the young Flint ran home down the empty street, rain falling around him. He sobbed, wiping his eyes to get rid of the tears, but they were getting lost in the rain.

"I wanted to run away that day... But you can't run away from your own feet,"

~~~~~~

Once he got home, Flint locked himself in his room to admit to get his shoes off. He tried to bite them off, but nothing happened at all. His second attempt was using a screwdriver, but it snapped in half. And all the scissors did was bend around his foot.

With one last ditch effort, Flint threw a cinder block at his feet, but it just shattered the block to pieces.

Flint realized that his shoes were indestructible, and never coming off.

Outside in the hallway, Tim Lockwood, Flint's gruff blue-collared dad, and Fran Lockwood, Flint's warm mother, approached the door.

Fran gestured for Tim to speak. "Uh... Not every sardine jumps in the net, son,"

Young Flint shook his head in upset confusion. "I don't understand fishing metaphors!" he cried, flopping face-first onto his bed, continuing to cry into his pillow.

"What did I say?" Tim grumbled.

"Don't worry," Fran reassured before gently opening the door. "Honey, I think your shoes are wonderful,"

She turned on the light as she entered the room. Flint didn't turn to face her. "Everyone just thinks I'm a weirdo. I don't even have any friends," he muttered.

Fran sat down at the end of the bed. "So? People probably thought that these guys were weirdos too! And probably didn't have many friends either! But that never stopped them," she spoke up, gesturing to Flint's wall of posters of great inventors, which included Telsa, Farnsworth, and Edison. "I was saving this for your birthday, but, here..."

Flint lifted his head off his pillow, looking back to see his mother holding up an adult-size lab coat with a shy smile. He gasped, turning to face her. "A professional-grade lab coat. Just like the real guys wear!"