I am surrounded by alien robots!

There's no mystery about a dorito shaped alien robot

Truthfully there's no greater mystery in robots that resemble Food. You see there's an evolution theory in my mind that robots somehow become similar to their favorite product--if they love it that much--their body takes on that shape.Thankfully Ratchet didn't break my storytelling bucket into pieces. The medic guy claimed the bucket has some Cybertronian to it.

Since when does a plastic bucket become important right after being transported to some-where you don't belong?

"Can't I drop her off at the boy's house?" Ironhide asks.

"She's not their daughter." Optimus said.  "Considerably, a young human would be thankful someone else became the new center of attention for their parents; but this child.  .  ." Optimus looks ever so briefly down towards me like the main center of attention. "She is not adopted."

"I love Annie!" I declare, waving my arms.  "Annie."

"Annie?" IronHide repeats the red head's name.

"A fantastic red head singer with a dog." I babble. "And a bald guy similar to Piccard  takes her in." I still remember the fantastic movie, even a few of the songs from it. "The movie I remember is truly a masterpiece. It's what kind of and sort of inspired me to sing-a-lot." the way I  said it sounded like Camelot. "I still love it."

"A bald guy takes her in." Ironhide said, with a strange look.

"Well." I tap my fingers together. "He adopts her."

"I see  no other choice." The guy called Ratchet said. "How about the girl that Bumblebee's boy has a vivid attraction for?" Optimus's head is turned towards him. "We do not have beds for children."

"I do not like garages." Ironhide said, folding his arms with a gruff. "I will not be squashed into a small garage."

"You don't have to." Optimus said.

It seemed as though the big wise guy had a brilliant idea.

_____                                        _________                                        _______

.  .  . One month later . . .

The Autobots decided it was best for me to live with Sam's girlfriend. What I didn't honestly expect is to become the girl who  became the outcast in school, again. I have little to no friends and if the lights went out I would jump into someone's arms.Of course I did that, silly! Let's say the student dropped me as they were complaining this isn't a cartoon.

I can't remember what grade I am in right off the bat.

Math was never my best subject.

"Get your history homework done this time!" Mikaela's voice carried off from the garage.

"Okay, Motorcycle Girl." I said, rolling an eye.

"Did you just call me Motorcycle girl?" Mikaela yelled from the other room--probably fixing her car's engine--like a true Sherlock Holmes kind of girl.

".  .  . I  said Bokers Moru-ticuycle Quill." I lied.  "It's a law firm."

"Thought that's what I heard." Mikaela said.

I sighed and continued on my History homework. Unlike most students in my glass; I got my scrapping home-work done! Oh well there goes hanging around Ironhide far too long. He uses Cybertronian slang a lot more than Ratchet. In a good hour my homework was completed.I don't know why students prefer to stick away from me. Is it because I am not from this world? Is it because I am a freak?