Skelley
Ally was a streetwise twelve-year-old who had been raised on the wrong side of the tracks. Her father, Stanley Blake, had raised her as best he could, but it was difficult.
The girl had picked up a lot of her streetsmart instincts from her father. He had taught her how to pick a lock from the age of six, and she had been learning other tricks since, from both her father and his friends.
Ally, as she packed a bag of clothes, was upset about her father. Although she had learnt to fend for herself from an early age, she relied a lot on him, as he was her only parent. Stan had loved his daughter so much, and would do anything for her. Ally knew that it was his way of protecting her, and she thanked him for it.
"This guy in legit, so he'll want to play by the rules, won't he," Ally said to herself. "Guess that means that when I get there, I'll have to sort some stuff out. Dad knew a couple of guys in LA, didn't he? There was Scott Wiley, and that computer genius Zack Reninski. I think I'll pay them a visit when I get to LA."
With that, Ally went downstairs, and opened the doors to the storeroom. The black bike shone in the dim light. If her father knew that she was going to ride it, he'd go wild. But, this was an emergency, and she refused to travel by airplane. She put the helmet on, threw the bag on her back, and started the bike to LA.
After three hours, Ally finally found herself in the parking lot at Community General Hospital, LA. She chose the underground lot, and picked a spot that was desolate. That way, she would not been seen as a twelve- year-old that just got off a bike.
Ally knew well enough not to ask questions until the situation became hopeless. She started into the hospital, and wandered around the different floors of the hospital. After twenty minutes of this, she got her bearings, and started listening to the different conversations of the doctors, hoping to pick up the name of Jesse or Travis somewhere in the conversations.
The youngster had become an expert in this sort of thing. Her father had asked her to do it once or twice, but she practiced it a lot at school, and found out that it was a useful trade.
Finally, she heard a nurse talking to another doctor. "I'm just going to see Doctor Travis about the patient in room 225. His fever seems to have gone up."
"You'll find him in the Doctor's Lounge," the doctor replied.
Ally had passed the Doctor's Lounge a couple of times. She followed the doctor, and heard him talk to someone new.
"Hey, kid, are you lost?" The doctor walked out of the Lounge and saw Ally. "Are you looking for someone?"
"Nope, I'm not lost," the girl told him. "Just waiting for someone, thank you." The doctor shrugged and walked off.
Ally turned into the Doctor's Lounge, and bumped straight into the doctor.
"Excuse me," Ally said. She saw the nametag on the doctor's jacket. Dr. Jesse Travis, it read. Finally!
"Do I know you?" Jesse asked, seeing the girl looking mildly familiar.
"You may have done, but whether or not you did before, you sure are about to," the girl gabbled in reply.
"Pardon?" Jesse asked.
"I say, you may have done, as in you may have known me, but whether or not you knew me before doesn't matter, because you are about to know me," Ally replied slowly so that Jesse could understand.
"Dr Travis," one of the other doctors called to him. "We've just received news of a plane crash at LA airport. The plane took off a couple of hours ago, from North of here. First ambulances arrive in five minutes."
Ally froze. Two hours? North? LA airport? That was the plane SHE was going to be on! She went white, knowing that she escaped death or severe injury.
Jesse saw the girl go white. "Hey, kid, you okay?"
Ally mentally shook her head to get her focused. "Yeah," she replied. "Can I talk to you later, when you are less busy?"
"Well, okay then," Jesse said, wondering what this girl needed to talk to him about. "You can wait in the Doctor's Lounge. I could be a while, though."
"Don't worry, I've got all the time in the world," Ally replied, heading into the room.
About an hour and a half later, Jesse moseyed into the Doctor's Lounge. He himself had sorted through at least twenty people on the plane, and he was worn-out. He headed straight for the nearest source of caffeine. He noticed that the girl still seemed to be there.
"Still here?" Jesse asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"I never break promises," Ally told him.
"So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?" Jesse asked. "My name's Jesse Travis, if you don't know that already."
"I'm Ally," the girl told him.
"Okay, Ally," Jesse began. "What did you want to talk about? I'm all ears."
"Eyes come in handy, too," she said, handing him the letter from her father.
Jesse read it, and when he had finished, set in on the table. "I'm sorry, Ally," Jesse said calmly, "but you must have got the wrong guy."
"Wrong guy?" Ally asked. "You're Jesse Travis. You're in Community General Hospital, in LA, and you're short and blonde. How many people do you know who fit that description?"
"Just me," Jesse said, taking slight offence to the short part. "But, who is your father? I'm not sure I know him."
"Oh, how stupid of me!" Ally exclaimed. "That's why you got confused. I got one word for you, pal."
"And what's that?"
"Skelley."
"Ske…" Jesse began, and then his eyes became wide. Oh no, he thought. Stan "Skelley" Blake. That name ALWAYS meant trouble.
Ally was a streetwise twelve-year-old who had been raised on the wrong side of the tracks. Her father, Stanley Blake, had raised her as best he could, but it was difficult.
The girl had picked up a lot of her streetsmart instincts from her father. He had taught her how to pick a lock from the age of six, and she had been learning other tricks since, from both her father and his friends.
Ally, as she packed a bag of clothes, was upset about her father. Although she had learnt to fend for herself from an early age, she relied a lot on him, as he was her only parent. Stan had loved his daughter so much, and would do anything for her. Ally knew that it was his way of protecting her, and she thanked him for it.
"This guy in legit, so he'll want to play by the rules, won't he," Ally said to herself. "Guess that means that when I get there, I'll have to sort some stuff out. Dad knew a couple of guys in LA, didn't he? There was Scott Wiley, and that computer genius Zack Reninski. I think I'll pay them a visit when I get to LA."
With that, Ally went downstairs, and opened the doors to the storeroom. The black bike shone in the dim light. If her father knew that she was going to ride it, he'd go wild. But, this was an emergency, and she refused to travel by airplane. She put the helmet on, threw the bag on her back, and started the bike to LA.
After three hours, Ally finally found herself in the parking lot at Community General Hospital, LA. She chose the underground lot, and picked a spot that was desolate. That way, she would not been seen as a twelve- year-old that just got off a bike.
Ally knew well enough not to ask questions until the situation became hopeless. She started into the hospital, and wandered around the different floors of the hospital. After twenty minutes of this, she got her bearings, and started listening to the different conversations of the doctors, hoping to pick up the name of Jesse or Travis somewhere in the conversations.
The youngster had become an expert in this sort of thing. Her father had asked her to do it once or twice, but she practiced it a lot at school, and found out that it was a useful trade.
Finally, she heard a nurse talking to another doctor. "I'm just going to see Doctor Travis about the patient in room 225. His fever seems to have gone up."
"You'll find him in the Doctor's Lounge," the doctor replied.
Ally had passed the Doctor's Lounge a couple of times. She followed the doctor, and heard him talk to someone new.
"Hey, kid, are you lost?" The doctor walked out of the Lounge and saw Ally. "Are you looking for someone?"
"Nope, I'm not lost," the girl told him. "Just waiting for someone, thank you." The doctor shrugged and walked off.
Ally turned into the Doctor's Lounge, and bumped straight into the doctor.
"Excuse me," Ally said. She saw the nametag on the doctor's jacket. Dr. Jesse Travis, it read. Finally!
"Do I know you?" Jesse asked, seeing the girl looking mildly familiar.
"You may have done, but whether or not you did before, you sure are about to," the girl gabbled in reply.
"Pardon?" Jesse asked.
"I say, you may have done, as in you may have known me, but whether or not you knew me before doesn't matter, because you are about to know me," Ally replied slowly so that Jesse could understand.
"Dr Travis," one of the other doctors called to him. "We've just received news of a plane crash at LA airport. The plane took off a couple of hours ago, from North of here. First ambulances arrive in five minutes."
Ally froze. Two hours? North? LA airport? That was the plane SHE was going to be on! She went white, knowing that she escaped death or severe injury.
Jesse saw the girl go white. "Hey, kid, you okay?"
Ally mentally shook her head to get her focused. "Yeah," she replied. "Can I talk to you later, when you are less busy?"
"Well, okay then," Jesse said, wondering what this girl needed to talk to him about. "You can wait in the Doctor's Lounge. I could be a while, though."
"Don't worry, I've got all the time in the world," Ally replied, heading into the room.
About an hour and a half later, Jesse moseyed into the Doctor's Lounge. He himself had sorted through at least twenty people on the plane, and he was worn-out. He headed straight for the nearest source of caffeine. He noticed that the girl still seemed to be there.
"Still here?" Jesse asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"I never break promises," Ally told him.
"So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?" Jesse asked. "My name's Jesse Travis, if you don't know that already."
"I'm Ally," the girl told him.
"Okay, Ally," Jesse began. "What did you want to talk about? I'm all ears."
"Eyes come in handy, too," she said, handing him the letter from her father.
Jesse read it, and when he had finished, set in on the table. "I'm sorry, Ally," Jesse said calmly, "but you must have got the wrong guy."
"Wrong guy?" Ally asked. "You're Jesse Travis. You're in Community General Hospital, in LA, and you're short and blonde. How many people do you know who fit that description?"
"Just me," Jesse said, taking slight offence to the short part. "But, who is your father? I'm not sure I know him."
"Oh, how stupid of me!" Ally exclaimed. "That's why you got confused. I got one word for you, pal."
"And what's that?"
"Skelley."
"Ske…" Jesse began, and then his eyes became wide. Oh no, he thought. Stan "Skelley" Blake. That name ALWAYS meant trouble.