My name is Palla. Pallantia, if you want to get picky, but I hardly ever go by that so don't worry about it.
I have a story to tell you. You've probably heard it again. You've read and studied the Animorphs and how they saved us, I'd be willing to bet you've seen at least one of them on Tv. But that isn't nearly the whole story. That's just the version everyone else hears, everyone but you.
Lucky you.
Palla was late. Not that it mattered if she was five minutes or half an hour late. When your dad is as rich as he is people forgive you easy. Maybe she was spoiled, after all who would rat on her. Or maybe it just isn't worth the time to reprimand her. That was probably it.
And even if it didn't matter, it still ticked her off. Palla didn't like being being given special privileges. Not when when they came courtesy of her father's money. He was an internet-entrepreneur type. About five years ago the company he owned stared doing good. Really good. So they became really rich. Palla was eleven years old when she came home from school and discovered she was heir to half a fortune.
Palla started out a fast walk, but gradually slowed. Irritated, she glanced at a wrist-watch. I'll be late in five minutes and it takes the bus ten minutes, at best. Hiking the pack farther up her back, she started toward the stop. She went through a well-memorized list of impolite words as she walked. Under her breath, of course. She did have a good-girl image to keep after all, albeit one who apparently talked to herself.
Luckily, the bus was on time today. She sat down and tried to ignore the people who recognized her and waved. Hate being rich, she thought contemplatively. Although it did have it's high points. Like the restaurant dinner she was late for by now. That was okay, Palla reasoned sarcastically. He'll get over it; he's probably talking to some businessman on his cell. Or he'll just won't notice. She couldn't give less of a rat's-ass how her father thought about her.
Seventeen minutes and about seven bus stops later she got off. Someone opened the restaurant door and Palla nodded politely. Her father's table was below a large picture of the Greek Parthenon. She smiled; it was her favorite picture in the restaurant. He looked at her as she sat down across from him. "You're late," He informed her. Like she couldn't figure it out on her own. "You brought your bag?"
She sighed and rolled her eyes, slightly so he wouldn't notice. It didn't surprise her that he forgot, even though she told him last night. "Yes, I left from school. I told you I would last night."
Before he could say anything in response the waiter came and they ordered. Palla looked around the familiar restaurant. She'd gone here for years, but still loved it. It wasn't a very fancy place, at least not by her father's standards. He often asked why she insisted on going here when it was her turn to pick the dinner spot. It was something they did: go to a restaurant every other week. Palla and her father had argued constantly. Her father suggested it for Kayla's sake: To remind them to stay together. It usually worked. They had a specific order and each dinner night the next person got to pick the restaurant. Two weeks ago it had been at a classy place her father picked out and two weeks before that it had been at Pizza Hut. She covered her mouth remembering his reaction. It had not been good.
Of all the places, the ones Kayla picked were always the most fun to go to. She was upset that she missed tonight's. She loved this place too. She didn't feel too badly for her. Kayla was at a friends house sleeping over. It was her second sleepover and she was under the impression it would be identical.
"What is it, Palla?" Her dad asked. She shrugged. "Just thinking about Kayla. It's weird. Going to a dinner without her."
"I'm sure she's fine. She was very excited when I dropped her off."
"I know," Once the plates were cleared away her father cleared his throat. "I know you're mad I'm leaving during your birthday," Palla shrugged, indifferent. "I have something for you. Before I leave tomorrow I'll give it to you."
She looked up, curious despite herself. Usually, he wasn't so secretive. Finding nothing, She nodded and stood to leave. Just before they reached the door a couple stopped Palla's father and began talking. She caught her father's attention and gestured toward the door. "I'll be in Edie's."
"Sure. I'll only be a few minutes."
It was much cooler outside. Palla briefly considered not walking the block to the small CD store, then stubbornly shoved her hands into pockets and started walking. Maybe if it was warmer and Palla had been moving slower she would have seen him in time, or . But she didn't and ran into him. The impact made the old man stagger back a few steps. "Sorry. I didn't see you. Are you alright?"
He looked up and gave her a blank stare. "You must be careful.", he said pointing, "They are everywhere." Unnerved more than anything, Palla took a step back and another. He grabbed Palla's shoulders and peered closely at her face, his eyes now wide and twitching. His breath was sour and he had a dank, musty smell. "You must listen to me. Never let them take you! Never let the Yeerks take you! The Yeerks, they are here." Some people walked by and he fell silent. Watching suspiciously as if he expected everyone to disappear 'round him. They walked by and he shook himself as if waking up.
"The yeerks," he said again in a rush. "They're here, you can't let them-" He stopped and at the same moment his grip loosened. Palla stumbled back. He looked up, an expression of unimaginable dread and fear on his face. For a brief second Palla felt sorry for him. She looked up too, when she heard the footsteps.
"Hey! What the hell do you think you think you're doing? Get away from my daughter!" Her father turned worriedly to Palla. "Are you all right?" Beside him the man from the restaurant quietly watched the nut. Palla saw the calculated look in his eyes and shivered, glad he wasn't looking at her.
"No. I'm just- He just surprised me." Palla said quickly, distracted by the silent argument going on behind him. Around them a crowd started to form. Palla's father started to reassure them and out of the corner of my eye I saw the other man staring coldly at the lunatic. As I watched he continued to glare and mouthed something incoherent.
More people appeared and led the man away. As Palla stood he began yelling again, ignoring the murderous glares sent in his direction. She watched, fascinated, as the glaring man turned several shades darker with rage.
She frowned. The lunatic, she couldn't understand what he was saying. It sounded either really slurred or a foreign language. Palla continued to listen as he was dragged farther down the street. It didn't sound like a familiar language.
"Gaffnur! Fraghent andalites. Kill them! Halaf!" Someone jerked him roughly and he finally fell silent. The crowd dispersed, reassured that Palla was fine.
She wasn't upset, she had been through enough to have developed a knack for shutting stuff out.. It was more a weird creepy feeling. Like the split-second before the baddie shows up in one of those old black-and-white movies, you know he's there but can't quite see him. It was just some wacko. A lunatic. Who cares. But what was it he said? Yeerks? That was familiar. That word meant something. Where had she heard it… for a second her breath stopped in her throat. The hospital. A week before she died, her mom told her a story. Something about what she said happened to her. Palla always thought it was some kind of dream or drug-induced hallucination. But it was impossible. The story her mother told Palla was impossible.
Needless to say Palla spent most of the night lying in bed staring at the ceiling. The few hours she actually slept were spent dreaming. One dream played over and over in her head. Of that morning in the hospital room with her mother. The one she spent the last month of her life in. Her hair, dark like mine, had been in a ponytail.
"There is something I need to tell you. Something I've never told anyone. And as amazing as it sounds, every word is true." In my dream, her voice was louder and clearer than I remembered it being. It was then she realized that the hospital was silent. Total silence. Not even the monitors made any noise. "There are aliens living on Earth and they hide in the heads of normal people."
Palla frowned. "Mom…" She began. With one hand she quieted Palla like she did when she was young. "Hidden they look like anyone and could be anywhere." She paused, gathering strength. "This is for you." She handed Palla a folded piece of paper.
A noise! Palla whirled around to look. Someone was in the hallway! Turing to look at Mom, she realized she was alone. There it was again! It sounded…it sounded like someone stomping down the hall. It reached the door and the handle turned slightly-
What do 'ya think? Was that enough of a cliff-hanger? I have the second, slightly longer chapter finished, but I still have to change the point-of-view, originally the entire story was written from Palla's view, like the Animorphs books.
I love to get reviews, I'm a horrible procrastinator and having people bugging me to finish the next part is an excellent incentive to write more. So I will not take offense, but will be flattered by you, unless of course you flame my story to incineration.