Struggling To Adjust (Book Three of The Bad Wolf Chronicles)

Smith, Nightshade, and Jones

I had to. I was getting bored, and, well . . . I couldn't wait to start writing Jessie into the next series. So, may I present "Smith, Nightshade, and Jones!"

***

She could see it now. Brits walking by, probably trying to avoid the beeping . . . thingy in her hand. But as she swung it around, she frowned when she heard it begin to beep even more.

Jessie pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and smacked the device against her palm. “What is it you’re finding?” she muttered before seeing where she’d had it pointed. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh.” She pulled out her phone and dialed the TARDIS.

The Doctor picked up immediately. “Did you find it?”

“It’s reading plasma coils,” she reported, looking back at the device. “It’s coming from this Royal Hope Hospital.” She looked back up at the hospital, raising an eyebrow. “So who’s playing the patient?”

“How did you know that was what I was planning?” he squeaked.

Jessie rolled her eyes. “Because it’s what you would do,” she muttered. “Get out here and I’ll think of a cover story for whatever illness you’re going to say you have.”

“Yes, mother.”

Jessie smirked. It’s nice being an Aussie. I sound more badass.

***

Martha Jones walked down the streets of London when her phone rang, interrupting her playlist. She looked at the Caller ID and raised an eyebrow. She answered. “You’re up early,” she commented. “What’s happening?”

“It’s a nightmare, because Dad won’t listen, and I’m telling you, Mum is gong mental!” her sister, Tish, rattled off at a nightmare pace. “Swear to God, Martha, this is epic! You’ve got to get in there and stop him!”

“How do I do that?” Martha asked.

“Tell him he can’t bring her.”

Martha rolled her eyes. Her dad and his girlfriend. Always the subject at their house. She was about to answer when her phone beeped. She took a quick look and smirked. “Hold on. That’s Leo. I’ll call you back.”

She had barely pressed answer when her brother began to babble. “Martha, if Mum and Dad start to kick off, tell them I don’t even want a party. I didn’t even ask for one! They can always give me the money instead.”

“Yeah, but why do I have to tell them?” Martha asked. “Why can’t you?” Her phone beeped yet again, and she took another look before sighing. “Hold on. That’s Mum. I’ll call you back.”

“I don’t mind your father making a fool of himself in private,” her mum, Francine, began to say immediately, “but this is Leo’s 21st. Everyone is going to be there, and the entire family is going to look ridiculous!”

“Mum, it’s a party,” Martha sighed. “I can’t stop Dad from bringing his girlfriend.” Her phone beeped another time, and she held back a groan as she checked who was calling this time. “Hold on. That’s Dad. I’ll call you back.”

“Martha?” her father, Clive, asked when she picked up. “Now, tell your mother Leo is my son and I’m paying for half that party. I’m entitled to bring who I like.”

“I know,” Martha sighed, “but think what it’s going to look like for Mum if you’re standing there with Annalise.”

“What’s wrong with Annalise?”

“Is that Martha?” a bubbly voice asked, and Martha rolled her eyes. “Say hi! Hi, Martha! Hi!”

“Hi, Annalise,” Martha said, just to make her happy.