It's the twenty-first of April, and May is coming soon. I've already made my decision to . . . you know, as soon as May officially comes around.

I made up my mind two months ago, will I chicken out again? And is that a good thing or a bad thing? There are so many questions and so little answers, and nobody to blame but myself.

I drop my pencil. When I bend down to pick it up, I hear a familiar sound I've been straining my ears for some time now. It was music to my ears.

I don't pick up my pencil. I sit back up and raise my hand. "Mr. Robinson? May I be excused to the ladies' room?" I say. Emphasis on the word 'ladies'' increases my chances to leave a male teacher's class. I felt bad for using it on my favorite mathematics teacher so far. I'm good at math.

Mr. Robinson looks up, his rimless glasses slipping. "Of course you can, Miss Land. But make sure that you hurry back, I want to talk with you after class."

I nod quickly and am out of the door in a blink of an eye.

What do I do now, though? I never think anything through! I might as well go to the bathroom. I'll find a way to the telephone box at recess.

I walk slowly to the bathroom. I hated the place ever since my failed attempt to . . . when I chickened out. Was it really the best place to do it, at the school?

Yes, whispers a small voice in the back of my head. School, as awful as it is, is your safe haven. Your house is nothing more than empty rooms and creaking floors.

Without realizing it, I started to sob. It was true, school was my safe haven. I never skipped it once in my entire career. Sure, most of the teachers resent me and the whole school body hates my guts, but I love the school. I really do love it, with its many halls and classrooms, its wonderful smell of plaster, glue, and old books. The school has so many places to hide, so many things to learn. I may not be that good at science or history, but I love math and literature and . . .

I reach the bathroom door. I open it and close it behind me. I stand still for about two minutes, and I'm not sure if I was even breathing.

I wipe my eyes and go to open a stall.

"Ah!" I yell and slam the door. There was something in there, filling it up. I open it again and see a blue telephone box. I touch it. On a sign it says 'pull to open'. I pull and it opens without as much as a squeak. I walk in and gasp. The inside is massive, and colorful, and simply amazing!

I walk up to the middle of the room, to what looks like an engine. Is it an engine? It's the strangest thing I have ever seen! It has everything on it from bells to typewriters to a pinball game.

I step up to the engine and notice that the thingamajig in the middle is going up and down, getting brighter and dimmer in rhythm. It's almost like it is . . . breathing. It's alive!

I stroke the console and it vibrates slightly, as if it's purring or something. I smile.

I stroke it as I walk around it. I notice a few switches and levers. Absentmindedly, I switch and pull them. When I reach the typewriter, I press the space bar a few times and type out my mom's name, Vanessa.

Then I reach a giant lever. I clutch it, but I didn't pull it, I swear, it just pushed itself!

The place lurches and I fall over backward. I hit my head hard on the floor and my eyesight goes blurry. I blink a few times, trying to steady the swirling image above me, but to no avail. The world turns red, and then black. Soon, it turns into nothing at all.

I wake up to a ringing phone and a banging headache. I get up and reach for the phone.

"Hello?" I say tiredly.

"Who are you and where did you take TARDIS?!" A vaguely familiar voice says. My eyes widen. Of course! It's that weird bow tie man I saw before, and I was looking for him, I am in his . . .

I gasp. I AM IN HIS LIVING MACHINE AND IT IS MOVING! IT IS MOVING! I lay down the phone and rush to open the door. I trip outside and realize that I am falling into open space!

I let out a screech and grab on to the ledge of the – what did he call it? – Oh, yeah, the TARDIS. I am proud to say that I did not scream. I realized that there was no point, seeing as there was no one to hear it. I was terrified out of my mind, though.

I don't know how in the name of logic I got back up. All I remember is that the machine stopped and I strained to lift myself up and back into the TARDIS and close the door as quickly as I could.

I picked up the phone. "Who are you?" I said in the most innocent voice possible. "I think you've called the wrong number, bye!"

CLANG! I slammed the phone down.

What was I thinking?! I obviously hijacked this man's spaceship-thing and WHATTHEHELLISGOINGON I'MINSPACE WHATAMIDOINGINSPACE!?

I take a shuddering breath, close my eyes, and count to ten. One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Oh, and Eleven for good measure. You never know when you need eleven.

The phone rings again, crashing into my train of thought like my seventh grade science teacher. I pick it up.

"Hello?" I say a bit more shyly than I intended.

"Do not hang up, do you understand? I am very angry right now!" He said as if I was like, I don't know, three or something.

"You don't sound very angry." I said quietly. And he didn't, but that just made me nervous.

"I assure you that I am, so you'd better answer all of my questions, is that understood? That is not a rhetorical question, so answer me!"

"Yes." I say. He has the right to be mad; otherwise I wouldn't let him talk to me like that. Jerk.

"First off, what are you?" He says.

"Huh?" I ask. What is that supposed to mean?

"What species?" He says impatiently.

"Human?" What a weirdo!

"What is your name, your full name?" He says the word like it's the most important thing in the world. I guess it is.

"Um, Tiffany." I say. "Tiffany Orchid Land." My mother is sentimental. I'm glad that she didn't make Orchid my first name. My real full name is actually Tiffany Orchid Vanessa Land, but my family's always been leaving out that name since I was born, so I do, too.

"What a brilliant name!" He exclaims. "Tiffany, how old are you? You sound pretty young for a human smart enough to hijack my ship."

I relax. This man seems nice.

"I'm fifteen." I say. "And don't scoff; it took me fifteen years to do that!"

He laughs. I laugh, too.

"Tiffany, why did you steal my TARDIS? I mean, I stole it too, years ago, but what are your reasons? And how did you learn how to fly it? Only two people in the entire universe know how."

"I don't know." I state. What else can I say?

"What do you mean? You can't just burst in and accidently fly the TARDIS away!"

"I don't . . . I did . . . I mean, it was an accident!" Tears were already gushing down my face. "I just came in and pressed some buttons! I didn't know what I was doing, I – I - " I started to sob.

"Shhhhhhhh, it's all right. Um . . . there-there?" I kept on sobbing. I couldn't stop, and my breath was going in and out against my will, the inhale so deep that it hurt my chest. I held my throat in attempt to stop it. This has happened before. I think it's called a panic attack. I drop the phone.

I try to control my breathing, but in vain. I let go of my throat and close my eyes. I count to ten. One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; And eleven for good measure.

The painful inhaling stops and I rise, shaking, to my feet. I pick up the phone.

"I'm sorry." I say, blushing.

"No need." He says. "It happens to the best of us."

I smile. "Thank you." I say. "I'm really sorry about hijacking your ship. How can I get it back to earth?"

I hear a smile in his voice. "I'm glad you've asked. Go to the cabinet in the room to your left . . . No! I have that stupid DVD with me! I'll just have to walk you through it. Up for a bumpy ride?"

I grin. "You bet!"