New Kid Catastrophes: 1 (TJ and the Time Stumblers) (14 page)

When everyone was finished and finally took their seats, things returned to normal—well, as normal as anything can be with a TV star, a TV crew . . . and an old, wannabe actor.

That’s right. You see, Mr. Beaker was still standing. In his hands he held a clipboard. And on the clipboard was what looked like a script that he pretended not to read:

“Dear
sweet
and lovely
Hesper
.” (He obviously needed a few more acting lessons.) Mr. Beaker looked up and searched the class until he found Hesper sitting right in front of him. He cranked up his mouth into what was supposed to be a smile. The camera moved in closer as he looked back at the clipboard, pretending not to read what he was obviously reading.

“You
are
so brave returning to
my
class so soon
after
all you have been
through
.” He looked up and gave her another smile.

Hesper returned the smile, which seemed to be wilting as his awful performance continued.

“You
are
so brave returning to
my
class so soon
after
all you—” He frowned and pretended not to search the clipboard until he pretended not to find his place.

“Dear
sweet
and lovely
Hesper
—” More frowning and more pretending not to search. “Oh,” he said, pretending not to put his finger on the script so he’d not lose his place. “Your absence has
been
so greatly appreciated
and
felt— No, I mean, your absence has
been
so greatly
felt
and we
appreciate
your returning so soon.”

“Psst.”
The man with the hairy chin waved. “Faster, faster!”

Mr. Beaker nodded and glanced back down at the clipboard. “As a
token
of our appreciation, I have re-
assigned
you to your old lab partner to continue what I’m sure will
be
an award-winning science fair pro-
ject
.”

Once again the class broke into applause.

Mr. Beaker looked up and smiled. “Thank you.” He seemed uncertain what to do, so he snuck in a quick little bow. “Thank you.”

Hesper wiped her eyes in gratitude (either for the reassignment or because the man’s performance was finally over). Bravely, she rolled toward Chad.

TJ couldn’t believe her eyes (or the number of times she’d heard the word
brave
).

Chad raised his hand. “Mr. Beaker?” he asked.

The teacher glanced to him, then down to the script, looking for his place.

Chad continued, “What about BJ, er, JT?”

Mr. Beaker looked up. “Who?”

“The new kid.”

The class grew so quiet you could hear a press-on fingernail drop.

“What about her?” Mr. Beaker asked.

“Who will be . . . ?” Chad swallowed. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous about the TV camera (and Hesper’s eyes boring into him). “Who will be her lab partner?”

TJ’s face reddened. The class murmured. And Mr. Beaker madly searched his script for an answer.

Fortunately, another student was there to help.

Unfortunately, the other student was looking longingly at TJ while
sniff
ing,
snuff
ing, and wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“I don’t have a partner,” Doug Claudlooper said. “She can be mine.”

The rest of the class period was about the same, except for the part about it being a whole lot worse.

First there was the problem of Doug Claudlooper. TJ had spent all period listening to him explain the robot kitten he was completing (actually,
they
were completing) for the science fair.

“This gear is connected to this (
sniff
) gyro, which is connected to this (
snuff
) girder, which is connected to this . . .”

Eventually, his voice became nothing but a blur of words:

“Connected current battery (
sniff
) electrical of the parallel to the cells servo (
snuff
) motor wiring interconnected circuits . . .”

Then it became a blur of sounds:

“Stateoftheartengineering(
sniff
)connectedthroughopticalportaloptions(
snuff
)inwhichcasetheymustbein perfectphaseandalignmenttothe . . .”

But through sheer politeness, TJ managed not to fall asleep and to actually “Mm-hm,” “I see,” and “Uh-huh” her way through his explanations until the bell finally rang.

Unfortunately, Doug wasn’t exactly finished. Which meant following her into the hall, sniffing, snuffing, and “It’scooltofinallyfindsomeonewhoknowsandunder standswhatI’mdoingespeciallygirlscausesomeofthem aren’tsosmartas—”

“Uh, listen, Doug,” she interrupted. “I need to go to the restroom.”

“I can wait,” he sniffed.

“No, that’s all right.”

“Oh, well, maybe I’ll see you later,” he snuffed.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered, turning for the restroom, “after I graduate, go to college, get married, have kids, and have a hundred grandkids . . .”

“Funny,” Doug called after her.

She turned to him.

He was trying to smile, but it was obvious he’d overheard her. “About the grandkids,” he said.

TJ felt her face grow hot. “Oh, Doug, I didn’t mean—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said, still trying to smile. “I get that all the time.”

“Doug, I didn’t mean—”

“No (
sniff
) problem,” he said. “Guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Doug . . .”

He turned, gave a little wave, and (
snuff
) disappeared into the crowd.

Great
, she thought,
just great. What else could go wrong?

But as you’ve probably already guessed, she was about to find out.

Everybody in Malibu Junior High bought lunch (or had it catered in by their private chefs). Everybody, that is, except TJ.

“A penny saved is a penny earned,” Dad said. “It all adds up.”

TRANSLATION:
TJ and her sisters always brown-bagged their lunches to school.

TRANSLATION OF TRANSLATION:
TJ had packed some of last night’s leftovers. (Apparently Dad hadn’t buried it all.)

TRANSLATION OF TRANSLATION OF TRANSLATION:
TJ planned to be choking down charcoal potatoes and an overcooked hockey puck.

But that was the least of her worries.

“Hey!” Naomi shouted as TJ entered the crowded cafeteria. “Over here!”

TJ turned to see the tall, gangly girl sitting by herself.

“I managed to save room at my table!” she called.

Actually, Naomi always managed to save room at her table (since no one ever sat at her table).

TJ glanced nervously around, looking for some other place, for
any
other place.

“Over here!” Naomi waved both of her arms. “Plenty of room here!” (The poor thing had obviously not mastered the fine art of being subtle . . . or cool.)

TJ searched the room one last time.

“OVER HERE!” Naomi stood on her chair, waving her arms and shouting. (She’d definitely not mastered the fine art of being subtle.) “I SAVED YOU A SEAT OVER HERE!”

TJ turned to her, managed a smile (which felt more like a grimace), and started forward.

But she’d taken only a few steps before she heard, “Oh, there she is now!” It was a syrupy sweet voice (that, of course, sounded brave). “Over here, um, er, whatever your name is!”

TJ looked across the room to see a perfectly manicured hand waving at her. It was attached to a perfectly bronzed arm that was attached to the perfect body of . . . Hesper Breakahart.

“Over here,” she called from her wheelchair. “We’ve got plenty of room!”

TJ slowed to a stop. Even from across the cafeteria, Hesper’s blinding white grin was . . . well, blindingly white.

“TJ!” Naomi shouted.

TJ looked back to Naomi, then over to Hesper. Suddenly she was torn with indecision.

“What are you doing?” Naomi called. “She hates you, remember?”

TJ did remember. But sitting directly beside Hesper Breakahart was Chad Steel . . . and all the other cooler-than-cool kids.

“Over here!” Hesper continued to call and flash her blinding white smile.

And let’s not forget the camera crew. Not that TJ wanted to be a star or anything, but imagine what it would be like to be on national TV. Imagine what her friends back in Missouri would think when they saw her hanging out with Hesper Breakahart.

“TJ?” Naomi called. “TJ?!”

Finally, she made her decision. Without a word, TJ turned and headed for Hesper’s table.

Once again she felt all eyes turning toward her, and once again she felt her face growing hot. Only this time it was a good type of hot.

Closer and closer she came.

Bigger and bigger Hesper smiled. “I’m sooo glad you could join us,” she said.

TJ nodded.

“And that there are no hard feelings.”

TJ nodded some more. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the camera crew moving in for a close-up.

“And I just want you to know that no matter how jealous you may be over my fame and incredible good looks, I completely forgive you.”

The words struck TJ as odd. Odder still was what the man with the hair on his chin was shouting: “A little louder, babe, a little louder.”

Hesper nodded and repeated more loudly, “And no matter how jealous you may be over my fame and incredible good looks, I completely forgive you!” She cranked up her grin to ultra-blind. “And I want us to be best friends forever.” With that, she stuck out her hand.

TJ wasn’t sure if she was supposed to shake it, curtsy, or kiss her ring. Since Hesper wasn’t old enough to be the queen (or the pope), she decided on the handshake. So as she arrived at the table, she stuck out her right hand—an unfortunate decision, since that was the hand that also held her lunch sack.

Even more unfortunate, because that lunch sack held the burnt hamburger patty and charcoal potatoes.

And
most
unfortunate, because as she stuck out her hand to shake, the contents flew out of the bag.

Suddenly everything seemed to turn into slow motion, like a bad movie:

TJ cried in horror as the food floated out of her sack.