Saturday

I'm a kid.

I know. Everyone knows that.

But I feel extra…kiddish right now.

Me and Amelia – Amelia is my friend, my best one ever – play at her house all the time. Mine is too small. I don't have a big backyard like her and there aren't enough rooms for a fun game of hide-and-seek. So I walk to her house almost every day.

Now, we don't really play in her room. We used to. But then, the wall cracked open. And it got bigger and bigger till it was longer than Amelia's leg. Sometimes, when we used to sleep on her floor in a blanket tent, there would be talking, coming from the crack in the wall. The same voice, too. It was growly and sounded mean.

I was scared. Amelia was scared.

So now when I come to Amelia's, we usually stay in the kitchen and living room and every room but hers. Sometimes we sleep in the hallway, and we make our blanket tents on the rails for the staircase and sip hot cocoa and look up at her room. We don't always. Only when the crack in the wall is being more noisy and scary than normal.

But today was different. It is different. It's nighttime right now, and my brother always says that when it gets dark enough, it's called midnight, and that's when tomorrow starts. So maybe yesterday was different. The watch my brother gave me only has the Is and Vs and Xs on it, and I don't know how to read those yet. I don't read in Roman. Only English.

Amelia is reading while I'm writing. She says that if I want to write a real story – and I do, and she knows because she's my almost-sister – I have to do what Ms. Kitely says and "elaborate."

Okay.

I'm gonna write about what happened, but I need a title first. Creative titles are the best. They make books more fun to read, I think.

Amelia says that we could make a great big adventure book. I think so too.

She knows what to call it. And she tells me.

And I like it.

Here goes.

Our Raggedy Man

By Amelia Pond and Ariane Blythe

It was cold outside tonight.

That's why we were even in the kitchen in the first place.

Amelia and I were being brave enough to sit by the wall. THE WALL, in her room. We sat watching it, waiting for the growling voice that spoke from it.

"I don't think any maintenance guy can fix this," I said quietly. Amelia tilted her head, watching The Wall closely still.

"No. We need someone better to fix it." She looked brave about it, even when she was scared. "I asked Santa to send someone to help again. Someone strong and grown up. Like a policeman."

"Or a doctor?" I asked. Amelia laughed.

"No, a policeman. I've been good, so Santa will help."

"Isn't he sleeping? Like how bears do, but opposite? My brother said Santa is allergic to flowers."

"Well…maybe. But he won't mind, I don't think."

I nodded. Amelia was good. I don't think anyone wouldn't help her.

"It's creepy," I said, shivering. My best friend hugged me and I hugged her back. I really didn't want to stay here.

"We could fill the kettle with hot water," she thought. "And we can make tea and drink it in the kitchen."

I smiled. Sometimes Amelia seemed like she was a year and a half older than me instead of the other way around.

"Ooh, great idea!" I said. We stood together and ran down to the kitchen hand-in-hand. I was glad when her door was shut. I loved Amelia's room…just not The Wall.

I found the kettle in the cupboard and Amelia set to filling it with water while I started with the stove.

It could feel lonely. Amelia's Aunt Sharon was never at home, and when she was she didn't care much about my friend. She wasn't mean. Just a little uncaring, kind of.

But that was okay. Me and Amelia were enough for each other (well, us and our other friend Rory Williams, and sometimes Mels). We were happy with working together quietly.

And then it happened.

Amelia was about to take the kettle to the stove. I was carrying a box of tea bags.

And then there was a rumbling, and a sound like… like a key being scraped on strings or something. And out of nowhere… crash!

Everything shook around crazily. Amelia dropped the kettle back in the sink and suddenly the tea bags were spilled all over the floor, and we ran to the front door with wide eyes.

It was…

Weird.

I don't think that's the right word, but it was.

So weird. And impossible, too, I think.

There were flashes of blue and yellow outside. Sparking.

Amelia and I looked outside – and we saw a crashed box.

It was a blue box, old looking, like the kinds you see on TV (but the kids here don't say that. They call it 'telly,' and I don't understand…TV is shorter and sounds better). It was smoking and lying on the ground. And it said something. There words on the side, and they said 'Police Public Call Box.'

Police Public Call Box.

Amelia let out a breath.

"Thank you, Santa," she said quietly. Then she started walking towards it.

"Wait!" I whispered. She stopped.

I gripped her arm tightly.

"What is it?"

She looked at me with her chin lifted up. Her knuckles were white with her tight fists. She was determined.

"It says 'police.' But we won't know for sure if we don't look."

I wasn't sure, but I was curious too, and I trusted my best friend.

"… Okay. Let's go."

We walked towards it quietly. Baby steps, holding our breath.

We were a few steps away, and we stopped to look.

A blue box. Wood?

But it should be broken, or on fire or something.

This wasn't right. It really wasn't.

"Wow," Amelia whispered.

I nodded.

And then something else happened.

The door opened fast and with a bang.

A rope with a hook on the end flew out, and it almost hit me, but Amelia pulled me away.

I screamed a little. Just a little. Amelia almost did too.

And then I had to bite my mouth to stay quiet, because then a man poked up out of the open door. Out of the little box, noodle arms and everything!

Amelia saw it too, so no one can say that it was a dream.

He was breathing hard, like he was tired.

Oh. Well, maybe because he climbed up, it looked like.

He was smiling a little, mouth open.

And then he said, "Can I have an apple?"

I blinked. Amelia blinked.

"Huh?"

"'S all I can think about. Apples. I love apples. Maybe I'm having a craving? That'd be new. Never had cravings before…"

He went quiet for a minute.

Then he pulled himself up to sit on his box's edge, and he looked down into it.

He whistled a little. "Whoa. Look at that."

"Are you…alright?" I asked nervously. He was odd. A bit not…right. I wasn't sure. But I did wonder what he saw when he looked down into his box.

"Oh, just had a fall," the man said cheerfully. "All the way down there, right to the library. Hell of a climb back up."

"You're soaking wet," Amelia told him. She was right. The man's clothes were stuck to him and his face was shining. Drops of water dripped off of his floppy brown hair.

"I was in the swimming pool," he explained.

"You said you were in the library."

I nodded with Amelia, and the man nodded too.

"So was the swimming pool."

That didn't sound like a very good idea. I wonder if maybe this man was the one who looked at a tiny blue police box and said, 'Let's put a swimming pool in here…hey, I like libraries, so we should throw one of those in too!'

Amelia looked at him for a while.

"Are you a policeman?" she asked. I thought maybe he was a little bit too…something to be a policeman.

"Why?" The man looked a little curious. "Did you call a policeman?"

"Didn't you come about the crack in the wall?" I asked.

Now he looked more curious.

"What crack?" He leaned forward a tiny bit, and fell to the ground. "Agh!"

"What? What is it?" Amelia and I went a little closer. I watched the strange man with wide eyes. "Are you okay…sir? Mister?"

"What? No, I'm fine." He waved his hand. "I'm okay. This is all perfectly norma –"

He coughed – and a little cloud of golden dust fell out of his mouth, sparkling.

He was going to say normal. I know he was.

Amelia tilted her head to the side, like Rory's neighbor's beagle did sometimes.

"Who are you?" she asked finally.

The man answered right away. "I don't know. I'm still cooking. Does it scare you?"

"No. It's just looks a bit weird."

It sounded rude. But I kind of thought so too.

He shook his head.

"No, no, no. The crack. Does it scare you?"

Amelia and I nodded our heads.

"Well, alright, then," the man said. "No time to lose. I'm the Doctor. Do everything I tell you, don't ask stupid questions, and don't wander off."

He stood up, smoothed his shirt out, and walked right into a tree.

"Are you alright?!" I asked with Amelia.

He stood up straight again, like nothing happened.

"Early days," he said. "Steering's a bit off."

It was funny, really. He shook his head a little and started walking toward the house like he lived there. Amelia ran after him.

I waited a little, and watched his box a little longer. It felt hot. I felt it from where I was standing.

"He's a little crazy," I said to nobody. "But a little funny, too."

I started walking after them, hiding my small giggle.

Amelia was in the kitchen with the man who called himself the Doctor. It was a weird name. Especially because he came out of a police box. Maybe he had a friend named Firefighter and a cousin called Lawyer.

The Doctor was holding an apple. He took a big bite.

I jumped out of the way when he spit it out. He looked disgusted.

"That's disgusting," he said. "What is that?"

"An apple," Amelia said, and I nodded. What else could it be?

The Doctor shook his head.

"Apples're rubbish. I hate apples."

"You said you loved them," Amelia reminded him. She never forgot a thing.

"No," the Doctor said. "No, no, no. I like yoghurt. Yoghurt's my favorite. Get me yoghurt."

(I never did understand why Miss Kitely started telling me to put an 'h' in 'yogurt.' But I don't think I really understand why Dad and Joshua and I had to move to England away from Mom and Ken.)

The Doctor spit the yoghurt out, too.

I never liked it either.

But now there was yogurt and spit on my shoes.

He didn't really notice me shaking it off, it looked like.

"I hate yoghurt," he said grumpily. "It's just stuff... with bits in."

I smiled a little bit, and covered it with my hand. The Doctor saw it, and he looked surprised. And then he gave me a smile too, and it made his eyes crinkle and his ears lift a little bit. He looked nice with that smile.

And then he went back to looking sour again, licking his teeth clean from the yoghurt.

"Wait, you just said yoghurt was your favorite," Amelia said. She looked like she was having a little bit of fun too.

The Doctor shook his head.

"New mouth, new rules," he said. "'S like eating after cleaning your teeth, everything tastes wrong. Argh!"

I stepped away a tiny bit when he shook and twitched, hard, and let out a shout.

"Are you alright?" I asked quietly.

Amelia was louder.

"Are you okay? What's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" the Doctor asked. "It's not my fault. Why can't you give me any decent food?" He leaned closer to Amelia, dripping water onto the table from his hair and clothes. I remembered, he was still soaked. "You're Scottish. Fry something."

Amelia looked at me and back at him before nodding. She ran to get a pan and turn on the stove. I stepped past the Doctor and went to the hall closet. I looked through the stacks of towels, and reached for the biggest, fluffiest one I could find.

The Doctor was watching Amelia fry bacon when I came back. His back was facing me, and I sighed a little. I was really, really short standing behind him.

I stretched up and put the towel on his shoulders, and he jumped a little. He turned his head to the side and looked down at me, then at the towel, and back at me.

He smiled the nice smile again and dried his hair off.

I smiled, too. To myself.

"Ah, bacon!" he said to Amelia, smiling at her now.

She put a plate down for him and he cut a piece, sticking it in his mouth.

Then he made a blegh noise and pulled the bacon out, dropping it on the plate again.

"Bacon," he said. He sounded grossed out. "That's bacon. Are you trying to poison me?"

I didn't understand. I like bacon.

So I took the plate away, and I threw away the pieces that his spit got on and kept the rest. I like bacon, but that was kinda gross. And a waste.

Amelia was heating up a plate of beans then, and the Doctor seemed like he liked those.

"Ah, you see? Beans."

And then he put some in his mouth, and it got spat into the sink.

I made a face. He probably had a bucket of spit in his mouth and he used it a lot, too.

"Beans are evil," he said. "Bad, bad, beans." He watched Amelia make a plate of bread and butter and the smile came back.

"Bread and butter. Now you're talking."

I had to jump out of the way then, because after he tried it he picked up it up, ran to the door and threw it outside, plate and everything.

He hit the neighbor's cat, too!

"And stay out!" he yelled.

"We've got some…carrots…" I said quietly.

He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Carrots? Are you insane?" Then he stopped. "No. Wait. Hang on. I know what I need. I need, I need, I need…" He looked in the fridge and freezer, and pulled something out. "Fish fingers…" I opened my mouth. "…And custard." I closed it.

The Doctor was nice. He was picky, like me only very, VERY picky, and his clothes were all ragged. He had a very nice smile and was full of energy. And now he was sitting at the table with us eating fish fingers and custard, while Amelia and I shared ice cream and the clean bacon.

"… Funny," Amelia said. She said what I was thinking a lot of the time.

The Doctor chuckled. (I've never used that word. I like it.)

"Am I? That's good. Funny's good." He took another bite. "So what are your names?"

"Amelia Pond," my best friend said.

"And Ariane Blythe," I added, scooping a little ice cream out with a piece of bacon.

I don't like my name. There were some older, meaner and smarter kids who would pronounce it "Aryan," and salute. So I read about Aryans. And now I can't like my name.

"Oh, that's brilliant!" The Doctor was smiling at Amelia. "Amelia Pond. Like a name in a fairy tale." He looked at me. "And Ariane – that's a Welsh name, means 'silver.' Brilliant names, both of you." He tilted his head a little. Are we in Scotland, girls?"

I sank into my chair. "No," I said right away. "I wish. Closer to home."

Amelia nodded. "Our families had to move to England. It's rubbish."

"Oh." His eyebrows came together for a bit. "Well…what about your mum and dad, then – are they upstairs? Thought we'd have woken them by now." He looked up for a bit.

"I don't have a mum and dad," Amelia shrugged. "Just an aunt."

"Hm. I don't even have an aunt."

Amelia made a face. "You're lucky." The Doctor smiled at that.

"I know," he said. "So, your aunt. Where is she, then?"

"Out."

Like always. Amelia's Aunt Sharon always was out doing something or other. Maybe partying? Joshua says sometimes that grown-ups do that when they leave for the night. Other things, too, but he wouldn't say what.

"And she left you all alone?"

"I'm not scared," Amelia insisted. She saw the sad look on his face. I did too. But you know what? She was right. She's the bravest person I know.

"'Course, you're not," the Doctor agreed. "You're not scared of anything. Box falls out of the sky, man falls out of a box, man eats fish custard… and look at you, just sitting there. So." He paused. "You know what I think?"

"What?"

The Doctor looked Amelia and I over, before he spoke.

"Must be a hell of a scary crack in your wall."

It was.

He had no idea. It was.

And it still is.