Next chapter.

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His eyes opened, slowly. 'Owwwwwww' was his only thought. He looked around slowly, trying to remember what had

happened. Only when he realized that the steering wheel was still in his hands, he remembered the incident.

"Man, was I an idiot... KND operatives never chicken out in face of danger, especially not eighty si-" He

turned pale. He dreaded to see what was in the seat next to him. He shook off the bad images in his head and

looked over. "E-eighty six?" No response. He unbuckled and slipped out of the seat onto the dashboard. He

crawled over the buttons and leavers to get to her. She wasn't exactly in the seat, she was more leaning on

the dashboard. She was covered in dust as he was, but didn't look that bad. Even as kids, one of their top

priorities was safety. The windshield hadn't shattered thankfully; It was made from a thick glass for space

flight. Six Eighty Nine shook her arm slightly. "Eighty six? Wake up!!" Still not much response. 'Okay, don't

panic... You're safely on the ground... What were the safety measures again? Uh... Oh yeah! Check if they're

breathing,' he thought. Her back was rising up and down, so breathing: check. He sighed in relief. At least no

CPR. "Come on, Eighty Six, wake up!" He still didn't want to touch her. She had pointed out to him daily that

touching was off limits. He didn't want it to end up like the spatula-hitting-face-in-so-called-self-defense

thing. 'I wish I knew her real name... Maybe that would do the trick,' he thought, leaning back on the

windshield.

Wait, was that movement? "Wake up, Eighty six! Wakie Wakie!" He paused, and took a look at her

current position. "Looks like you just fell over after dancing-" Smack. "WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME TRAINEE?!"

The very confused and surprised boy first looked at his hands to make sure his nose wasn't bleeding, then to her.

"I-I didn't call you anything!" She rubbed her head, glanced around and shifted so that she was sitting on the

edge of the dashboard. "Yes you did, you said my name," she scowled. The boy now looked like a rabbit, wiggling

his nose around. "You nearly broke my nose..." She mumbled and stood up, and unhooked something on the back of

the seat, to reveal a first aid kit. "Who told you my name?" He stopped rubbing his nose and coughed. "I DIDN'T

say your name." "Oh yeah?" she said, putting a bandage on a cut. "Then why did you say Francine?" He almost laughed.

"So THAT's your name is it? I never said 'Francine.'" He paused, the grinned. "I said 'Dancing', though."

Eighty Six grumbled in annoyance, chastising herself for giving away her name. "Ugh. Well, now that you know, at

home I prefer to be called Fanny. Fanny Fulbright. Now I demand to know yours." He laughed.

"Nuh-uh. Not telling." She eyed him. "You want me to actually break your nose this time, you dolt?"

The smile faded a little. "Umm... no, thank you. Well, Mine's Jerry. Jerry Felton." She smiled, satisfied.

"Well, Jerry, I still don't forgive you for chickening out. If you're going to be a pilot at all, you've got

to learn to LAND as well as take off. Next time, I'm landing." She kicked open the door and climbed out and

stomped off. He watched her go, thinking. "She treats me like dirt, but why do I get this feeling I like 'Fanny

Fulbright?'" He sighed, and climbed out after her.

*-----------------*

Ha. Characters never are really seriously injured in cartoons, you should know that!

*Skips off, singing* Ooooh Francine rhymes with Dancing!

Till Next Chapter,

Ness.611