The Day I Turn Thirteen (Doctor Who Fanfiction) (Doctor Who fanfic)

Chapter Six: Of Wood and Stone

I gasp and turn. Stone fingers are wrapped around my forearm. I look up. The statue that has my arm in its hand has its other one covering its face. What I can see of its eye and cheek is cracked and worn. I gasp.

And blink.

When I open my eyes, the fingers are gone from my wrist. The angel is reared up, its arms and hands high in the air, its head tilted, the teeth bared. When I blink again, it is closer. 

What?

Gwynneth's words choose that moment to enter my head. Remember, Jessica... the angels, the stone angels, they can only move when you can't see them... 

I must be losing it.

I want to blink. 

I've always sucked at staring contests.

Cindy gave me tips - don't open your eyes too wide, that exposes them to more air that makes them dry out faster. I back up, another, smoother angel coming into view that looks exactly like the one Gwynneth drew, save for the deformations. How did she know? It's reaching out with one hand, its wings ruffled-looking. 

My concentration lapses and when I open my eyes, both angels are closer. I gasp and turn tail, bolting for the street. 

I've never been a very fast runner, but then again, I've never had two move-when-you-blink stone angels after my life... or what seems like it. Every so often, I look over my shoulder, but nothing seems to be on my tail. Every now and then, I could swear I hear something... something like hoarse breathing, like grinding and wheezing, but it always fades just as quickly as it starts. 

I finally slow down after what feels like hours but is probably only about two or three minutes. Nagged by the secret weight in my pocket, I unzip my jacket and reach inside it once again as I turn the corner at West End and Jameson. 

But I stop and look up. There it is... that sound... and its getting stronger... I let the hand holding the watch drop to my side. My eyes search the street for the source of the sound...

Suddenly, something seems to pop right out of midair above me. A flying cyan-blue box that looks instantly familiar soars down an angle to the ground, just missing me, and makes a little bit of a dent in the asphalt as it lands. 

I look up slowly from the place that I ducked. That box... Gwynneth drew it. How did she know what was going to happen to me? I shift to my knees, pocketing the watch, zipping up my jacket, and slinging my backpack onto the ground, where I unzip it and pull out the scroll. Indeed, everything is identical, from the panelling to the windows to the sign to the glowing yellow letters and the bulb... even the angle from which she drew it is the angle from which I'm seeing it. I hear a creak and look up. 

A man is leaning out the door. The same man Gwynneth drew, I verify with another glance at her colored sketch. His brown hair stands up just like the picture, his eyebrows reaching down to his temples, sideburns, cheekbones. He's... cute. His searching brown eyes find mine and I quickly roll the picture back up, stuffing it into my backpack. 

"Em... hello!" I stare blankly at him.

"That box," I start, "it just appeared, how did it do that?"

"Er... it... it does that."

"You're British," I can't stop myself from saying. 

"Em... sure. Right. British. That's me!" I squint at him.

"You're lying. Why are you lying?" The door is pushed open even more as a blonde girl appears by his side - the same blonde girl from the picture. Her jaw is wide, her nose thin, pointed, and small, her lips full and her hazel eyes rimmed by long, sparse lashes covered in mascara. Her eyebrows are nicely shaped and dark brown and she looks... twenty? Twenty-one? Twenty-two at the most. 

"He's scared you'll freak out." I stand up, shouldering my backpack once again. Her words have a giggle to them... confident, almost giddily so. My eyes narrow just a bit and I nod.

"Right. Now. Let me tell you something. I was just molested by a pair of stone angels that move when you blink, a flying blue box nearly fell on my head, and you're worried about me freaking out?" They exchange looks. "I'll believe anything. Ever. Trust me on that." The blonde looks up at the man and nods. He takes a breath and steps down from the doorframe of his box. The girl follows, closing the door behind her. 

"Full disclosure?" I nod. "Right. I'm an alien from a planet you've never heard of, I'm 901 years old, my name's 'The Doctor,' and this is Rose. She's human, by the way." I nod, this sitting strangely well with my logic. Although, I wasn't lying - I'm good at going along with stuff. 

"And the box?"

"That's my Tardis - T-A-R, D-I-S." Rose chimes in:

"Stands for, 'Time and Relative Dimension in Space.'" I squint again.

"So... it's a..."

"Spaceship," they say in unison. "Well, and a... timeship," The Doctor adds. 

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

"Doesn't it get cramped in there?" He smirks, leaning against the outside edge of the door.

"Take a look." With that, he reaches across and puts his weight on the inside edge. It swings open. I squint at the girl - Rose.

"Go on," she says with a sideways nod of her head. Cautiously, I approach the box and step onto the doorframe. 

"No... way..." I gasp, looking around the giant room inside. The golden, sloping panels that make up the domed walls reach up to form the ceiling, where they stop maybe ten feet from the center of the room and meet a circle of a much lighter gold that almost looks like fabric. Dark grey hexagons are carved into the the panels, at regular intervals and progressively smaller going up, with round yellow lights sticking out of them. An outer ring runs around the edge of the room with dark grey metal grating for the floor. There's another tier reached by stairs with a railing all around it and a beige three-cushioned chair attached to the floor by a spring. In the very center of the room there's a huge clear column glowing turquoise from within, with clear pistons built up inside it. Surrounding this column is a round console split into sections with controls and contraptions I can hardly see from this angle, let alone figure out. Giant, treelike columns of a darker, duller gold soar up from the ground at points in the outer circle, reaching clear to the ceiling. "No... nononono." I turn and run out of the box, running my hand along the outside wall to make sure it's real, then ducking inside again. "How is that possible, it's..."

"Bigger on the inside," the Doctor and Rose say it at the same time as me. I look around at them. They both have big, ridiculous grins on their faces. 

"Hey, stop that, it's not funny!"

"It kind of is, cuz' everyone does it," Rose says, "even me." The Doctor shakes his head and leans in to whisper to his companion. 

"Rose, she ran into a pair of Weeping Angels. We've got to get a move on."

"Right... and angels are the quantum-locked ones, right?"

"Yep. Fantasic memory, Rose." She snorts. Something about that must be an inside joke. 

"Right. I'm coming with you," I say. They both turn to look at me as I drop my backpack in their Tardis and face them. 

"No, you're not," the Doctor says.

"Wanna bet? I'm home from school early for standing up to my math teacher after she insulted my family for the enth time, you've got a time machine and a puzzle that needs solving, my world's boring and I want a taste of yours." The Doctor scans me and furrows his brow.

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"Then, no." I raise an eyebrow, ready to play my trump card.

"It's my birthday." The Doctor clenches his jaw and looks at Rose. For an alien with a time traveling box who's been alive forty-five times longer than she has, he seems strangely dependent on her. I breathe an inward sigh of relief when she smiles and tilts her chin up - body language for yes. The Doctor turns to me with a sigh. 

"Fine, you can come." I allow myself a grin.

"Okay. Doctor? Rose? Where do we start?"