Author's Corner

Did you know?

The Filipinos traditionally eat rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Thanks to NightCoringMadness and PhotogMyLuv92 for adding this little one to his/her favorites! A tip of my hat and a flying kiss to LITTLE RED FOXX and Catgoddess92, for following HDYD.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the OCs!

Warning: This fanfic is not the typical "Sam has a cousin!" fanfic! I am a sucker for family and character development. I also suck at updating. I frequently have an awful case of writer's block. May become somewhat crack. Quail eggs are delicious. Read at your own risk.

How Do You Do?

By Freydris

Sam's Stalker List

Lita does not like being called Carlita, or worse yet, Carly.

(Their neighbor's son learns the hard way.)

Part Four

A car drives by and parks down the corner. Suspiciously, no one exits the vehicle.

This detail in particular, however, carelessly flies by the notice of the Witwicky cousins. Spending thirty minutes stuck in a tree that's practically threatening to snap under their rears can do that to anyone. The dog, no matter how small it is, waiting down below only adds to the mounting fear. Mojo looks very eager, and Sam thinks it's revenge for all the times he's insulted the animal's man-pride.

"No, Lita, I will not sacrifice myself to give you a chance to run away." He deadpans, giving his cousin a disapproving look. He is hunching down on the spot where the branch and the trunk meet, legs and arms asleep. The bark digs into his skin as he clutches onto security, but it's a small price to pay.

His dark-haired relative lets out an affronted squawk from the other side of the blooming magnolia they are resting on, and Sam is a little jealous of her far more comfortable and safe location. She is a fetching vision beside the pink flowers, shades and scarves n'all, like an angel come down from heaven, if it weren't for the fact that she is giving Mojo a spine-chilling scowl.

"Sam, that wasn't what I was suggesting." She protests, her tone indicating a somewhat offended air. Sam is glad to see she's stopped shaking, and the teary shine in her eyes are gone. As much as the fact shames him, Sam admits that he doesn't know the smallest thing in comforting frightened women. Lita's resolve to keep herself calm and composed tells him that she senses this.

He breathes out a sigh of relief. "That's good." He replies airily, allowing his gaze to drift elsewhere. It's almost ten in the morning (as Lita readily tells him) and people will begin to pour out of their homes. Somehow, he can't decide whether it's a good or bad thing—that is, if someone spots the two of them hiding from a Chihuahua like sissies. No doubt his reputation will go further down the drain.

In the end, he isn't the one to determine this.

A tall, dark-haired goth exits the car down the corner, and Sam squints, recognizing the vehicle. It's the one he'd been staring at before Mojo escaped his leash. The one that, if he recalls correctly, shuddered. As he squints even more, he's able to put a name to the remarkably ordinary features of the beaming boy.

Ike Gregor, only son of Jennifer Gregor nee Hawkins and Stephan Gregor. The boy, several years younger than Sam himself, plays heavy metal music at around nine-thirty in the night, every Thursday. Thursday marks the day when his parents aren't home, but Sam knows that the Gregor adults are beginning to catch on to the less than pleasant habits of their son.

They did, after all, come by last Saturday to discuss spying and recording methods with Ron, and later on, Judy, who is always up for some fresh American neighborhood gossip.

Everything suddenly freezes when he catches sight of the brilliant smile splitting the boy's face apart.

"Ignore him." Sam hurriedly whispers to his cousin, who's eyes become wide at the sight of the multiple piercings and dark make-up, "I think he's high. Emo boy is smiling." If he sounds stunned, he hopes she doesn't notice.

She looks so shocked it's almost funny. "Is that mascara?" Lita squeaks, politely averting her eyes away from the quickly approaching boy, or else she will be gawking. She's sweating a little, Sam muses. It must be the culture shock. "W-Wow, I didn't...um, sorry, I'm just a little surprised, wow, Goths really do exist." She stammers, finding something else fascinating on the house to her right.

Sam snickers under his breath. Definitely, it's the culture shock. He didn't know people like Lita still existed!

When Sam thinks that perhaps the goth would only walk past the magnolia tree—and maybe the two of them would only get strange looks—he's proven horribly wrong. As if sensing his thoughts and living just to spite the teenager, Ike stops just outside the steel fence and waves animatedly, rocking his heels back and forth almost giddily. Lita swallows audibly, nervously, and forces a polite smile into her face. Sam finds himself mirroring the same smile, but he's certain his looks more like a grimace.

Mojo, sensing the abrupt change in the atmosphere, slowly turns back to curiously stare up at Ike. The Chihuhua sniffs for a couple of seconds, before jolting up. To the cousins' distress, he begins to bark at Ike with hostility, his small ears flattening against his skull as he bares his teeth.

"Woah boy!" Sam barks as well, his eyes nervously flicking back and forth from his pet to Ike, who jumps back in surprise. "Down boy! Don't scare people away!" He scolds.

"I'm terribly sorry about Mojo." He hears Lita apologize, and guilt eats him away when he realizes he's left her to talk to Ike, "He isn't often this hostile. I think."

He glances back up just in time to see Ike shake his shaggy head and bring out a radio. Sam double-takes and suspiciously stares at the boy and the object in his hand.

A long silence stretches between the three of them, not counting Mojo's angry barks. Ike fiddles with the radio for a moment, before turning up the volume.

An unfamiliar announcer blares out from the speakers, spooking the two cousins. Lita takes the sudden noise with practiced ease while Sam jumps, almost tipping back from his perch on the tree branch, "W-What—huh?"

"Ladies..." The channel changed sharply, "...man..." It changed again, "...two-hundred and seventeen years ag..." And then, "-eart, question mark, written on the..."

Lita blinks twice in confusion, a bit disturbed by the message, mixed in with confusion, but Sam chokes on air because if he puts it together, whatever Ike just weirdly composed on his little radio forms ladiesman217, which is Sam's Ebay account.

Warning flashes sound on Sam's brain, and he mechanically unfreezes himself, because Ike and Lita are staring at him expectantly.

"I-I am." He confirms nervously, "Ladiesman217 is my Ebay account."

Realization dawns Lita's eyes, and she smiles to herself, no doubt pondering the unique confrontation.

Ike's smile widens, and it's scary, freakily scary, because Ike Gregor does not smile. The younger boy fiddles with the radio again. "...Who do you think you are...runnin..."

Sam frowns. "My name is Sam Witwicky." He says impassively, gaze unintentionally turning sharper. "I've been your neighbor your whole life, Ike." He points out almost bitingly. Lita gives him a cautionary look, her smile turning a bit tight; a clear warning for him to remain courteous and polite.

He doesn't scoff, but a little irritation builds up inside his chest. Lita obviously is not used to him yet; if she believes he will duck his head down and be obedient to her, then she's dead wrong!

But Sam is a little bit of a push-over, so he doesn't say anything else.

Ike is surprised—it's obvious in the way the boy flinches back and looks down at himself with an expression of wonder. Sam shelves away this knowledge for later, the Gregor boy is definitely high.

The radio crackles. "Sorry, sorry..." It sputters out, "-unteer, how 'bout you, with the eyes.." Ike turns his attention to the older woman, smile back in place.

Lita flushes at the compliment, her smile turning a little more genuine. Sam can tell she's taken by Ike's young age and the unique way he speaks. Bummed by her suddenly sparkly and kinder attitude to the kid, Sam sulks a little, though he will not admit it out loud.

"I'm Carlita Rodriguez." She graciously supplies, inclining her head in greeting. "How do you do?"

Ike's expression turns confused, and his eyes dim for a few seconds. They brighten up again, and he excitedly fiddles with the radio. "...fine... thank you ladies and..." The machine blares out, followed by a fading applause. It crackles again for some time, before it spits out, "A song Carlita...Carlita...Carlita..."

Lita's smile falters. "Please call me Lita." She adds dubiously, eyes narrowing.

Ike blinks in confusion. He then turns the volume louder, "Carlita... Carlita... Carlita ...that's...your name is... Carlita..."

Sam watches with faint interest as her smile begins to crumble. Her eyes fall shut, and her right eyebrow is twitching almost comically, the corners of her lips straining to remain up.

The reaction is not lost to the goth, who raises both eyebrows in pitiful confusion. He messes with the radio a lot more. "...new episode of Icarly...Carly...Carly... do you like...that... Carly..."

For a split second, Lita is glowering at the boy. Sam feels something snapping inside him, fascinated, and he knows Ike sees the frightening expression too, because the boy's eyes dim before he takes a step back. "Sorry sorry sorry," The radio sounds out, "...geudae...bye bye bye bye bye bye bye..."

Ike scuttles away back to his car, and Lita is glaring at the back of his head like she wants him to burst into flames. "Are people here always that rude?" She grits out, madly twitching, like she wants to hit something.

Sam wants to inch away, because he's the nearest human being to her, but he can't because the branch will snap if he as much as turns the wrong way. "No." He says with what he hopes is a reassuring voice, "No, they're not."

"Mojo." She starts, turning to the dog with a fierce glower on her face, "Go boy. Chase him."

Mojo runs and doesn't turn back, barking madly. Ike disappears into his vehicle, almost flickering, like a hologram, and the car roars to life.

Sam belatedly realizes that Ike is entirely too young to be driving a car.

Author's Corner

Ike isn't Ike at all. One guess who. The radio kind of gives it away, actually.

Okay, so holoforms. I'm borrowing the fandom's idea that the Cybertronians need to scan a human body to copy its structure. The first body it scans, the holoform will resemble. In time, the form will gradually change to show more of the cybertronian's qualities. Fake Ike will not remain dark-haired or goth-looking for long, rest assured.

Please leave a review, and tell me what you guys think! Thanks for reading How Do You Do? Just a little bit more and we will begin with the first movie. I'm so excited!