September 20, 1985 [2]

The ball bounced down from the pavement then back up as the boys fought for the rebound. A bird hung from the bottom of the swing set's frame as above, two girls competed to swing the lowest. Martha took in and let out a deep breath of the hot, dry air as she dangled, upside down, from her school playground's pull up bar. She'd made it a habit during recess because of its calming effect. The figurative made literal, you could say.

After her first reawakening in bed, Martha stayed under for another year and a half before her second. She'd been swimming in the public pool and took in a fair amount of water from the shock, causing quite the scene. The CPR she received from the sixteen year old lifeguard with bad breath and a peach fuzz mustache had been disturbing in too many ways to count. And for all her trouble, an hour later – flash of purple, nausea, then to nothing. A year later, at the age of five, she came back and stayed.

It had taken a couple of months to fully get her bearings and adapt to walking around in a five year old body. Then again, the body was constantly growing and, as such, the world around her was constantly shrinking. It was a fascinating and overwhelming experience. She knew, however, that it was nothing compared to what James must have gone through during his first regeneration. As frightening as it had been for her, she knew what was happening. But James... James...

He was in Illinois, perhaps on a playground for recess as she, living another life unaware of her initiation. She'd thought to call him, but couldn't remember his number. She remembered the name of his street, the name of his town... She remembered her French from high school and the naming conventions for polyatomic ions from college... But not numbers.

'You'll think this is new age mumbo jumbo, but if I clear my mind and wait for the numbers to come to me, they usually do,' he'd told her a lifetime ago. But so far, they'd kept away.

She'd tried dialing an operator to find his number but there was no record. Unlisted... Thanks a lot, James. Then again, how could he have foreseen this?

She pinched her eyelids tight and tried to push him from her mind.

But the pull was too strong.

Could she travel to Illinois? Not by herself, obviously. Maybe she could convince her father to make a trip. Maybe... But even then, Illinois is a big state... his town, a big city... How would she-

"Martha, Martha!" a classmate cried, breaking her from her hopeless plotting. "Martha!"

She opened her eyes to find two girls standing, upside down, in front of her.

"Yes?" Martha answered with a child's voice she still hadn't gotten used to.

"I said that she would get in trouble and, and she said, she said a curse word at me," the girl named Claudia began. "And then she made a fist-"

"My mommy says I got to drink water when it's hot," the girl named Melissa interrupted.

"-and she said, she said she'd smack some sense into me," Claudia continued, undeterred.

"Stop," Martha said calmly.

"Because I could dry up like the daisies we planted and it's hot and I don't want to dry up like the daisies we planted," Melissa continued.

"Then she said she-" Claudia continued.

"Stop, stop, stop. You can't talk to me at the same time." Claudia and Melissa stopped. Martha brought her hands up to the bar, released her legs and hopped down with her renewed grace. She stared at the pair of second graders for a moment. Claudia, who would go on to a successful career producing reality television, wore a Care Bears t-shirt over baby blue shorts. Melissa wore a hand-me-down sun dress from her big sister. Like her big sister, Melissa would be pregnant by the age of fifteen. Or, at least that's how it happened last time. "Claudia," Martha said. "Start from the beginning. What happened?"

"Jessica's not letting anybody use from the drinking fountain unless you give her money and I don't have any money but it's hot," Claudia said.

"And I don't want to dry up like-" Melissa added.

"Okay, okay." Martha put up her hand to silence them. "Yeah. I'll talk to her."

The three girls left the playground and weaved around the basketball and four square games to reach the drinking fountains. As advertised, Jessica Murphy stood, defiantly blocking their access. She was a fourth grader but small for her age and barely taller than Martha. The anger she carried inside, however, was sized XXXL.

Martha approached her with Claudia and Melissa trailing safely behind. "Hi, Jessica," she said.

"You wanna drink, you gotta gimme a dollar," Jessica proclaimed. Her orange hair was parted down the middle to hang unevenly on either side of her freckled, sunburnt face. 2000 years in the northern British Isles had left her genes ill-prepared for the merciless southern California sun. Or maybe someone could give the poor kid some sunscreen?

Martha sighed. "You can't do this, Jessica."

Jessica pinched her eyebrows together. "Yeah, I can. Why can't I? Huh? Why can't I?"

"Well," Martha began calmly. "For one thing, the drinking fountains aren't yours. They're the school's and they're meant for all students and faculty to use. And it's 103 degrees – if the school's going to send us out into this, we need to be able to hydrate or-"

"You tattle on me and you'll be sorry," Jessica interrupted with a smile.

"Okay," Martha said. This was becoming tedious. "But yes, if you continue to block other students from the fountains, I will find an adult and tell them." Martha glanced toward an entrance where two teachers smoked cigarettes and talked about anything but their responsibilities.

"You want me to smack some sense into you, shit-for-brains?" Jessica held up her fist.

"Oooh," Claudia gasped from behind Martha. "See, see she cursed like I said."

Martha ignored her, but kept her attention on Jessica. "No, I would rather you not smack anything into me. But... then what, Jessica? You'll get in trouble for blocking the fountains, then more trouble for hitting me... I doesn't seem to be in your best-"

Jessica advanced.

"Seriously, think it through," Martha appealed.

But Jessica was unconcerned with Martha's logic and punched her in the collarbone.

It stung. "Ow," Martha let slip as she rubbed the pain away. It was minor – nothing compared to her recovery from knee surgery, or her broken thumb from the adult softball league, or James lying on the sidewalk...

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" an unseen voice began. Other students in the vicinity joined reflexively. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"Shhhhhh! Stop," Martha pleaded unsuccessfully. She looked over to Jessica whose fists were raised, then sighed deeply. Jessica pulled her right fist back awkwardly, telegraphing the punch for Martha to easily sidestep.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" the mob persisted.

"What in the world?!? Stop that! You two, stop that!" One of the teachers pushed through the crowd. Miss Parsons was in her late thirties and wore tan corduroy overalls with a plaid, short sleeve shirt underneath.

"It's nothing," Martha lied. "Just a misunderstanding, really. Right, Jessica? We're good, right? We're good."

Jessica flashed a subtle, but unmistakable grin at Martha before contorting her face in distress to the teacher. "Nuh-uh. She started it!"

"What?!" Martha said. "That's... not true at all. Jessica was blocking the drinking fountains and demanding that we pay her to use them."

"Hey!" Jessica barked. "What I say about tattling?"

"But you just..." Martha shook her head in defeat.

"So which is it?" the teacher said.

Martha searched the crowd of onlooking children. None of them, including Claudia and Melissa, made a move to back her up. She turned back to Miss Parsons, who stood with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised skeptically – idiotically.

"You know," Martha began, against her better judgement. "If you'd been doing your very simple job – which is to literally supervise us – you wouldn't have to ask."

Two from the crowd reacted in stereo, "Ooooooh." Others gasped. Miss Parsons gaped in disbelief.

Martha tried to backpedal. "That came out wrong. What I meant to say was-"

But Miss Parsons blinked rapidly to snap herself out of it, then said, "Okay, you two are coming with me to the principal's office."

Martha kept her mouth shut this time, but let the expletives fly in her mind as she and Jessica followed Miss Parsons to the school's entrance.

Author's note:

Was Martha's voice as adorable in your head as it was in mine??

For real though, kids take for granted that adults know what they're doing.  Then the kids turn into adults and realize we're all just making it up as we go and blaming others for our own ineptitude. 

Surely the principal will know what he's doing...