New Kid Catastrophes: 1 (TJ and the Time Stumblers) (15 page)

the crowd gasped as the hamburger patty raced toward Hesper’s face.

the hamburger patty
ker-splatt
ed as it hit Hesper in the mouth, knocking out both of her front teeth.

Hesper cried.

Then everything turned back to normal speed, including . . .

—All the kids screaming.

—Hesper dropping to her knees and searching the floor, crying,
“Ma teeph! Waare’s ma teeph!”

—And four (count them,
four!
) burly teachers grabbing TJ and dragging her away.

TJ wanted to explain, but it’s hard explaining when people are shouting such understanding words as

Teacher One:
“How dare you attack a defenseless girl!”

Teacher Two:
“Who just happens to be a superstar!”

Teacher Three:
“You’re lucky we don’t call the police!”

Teacher Four:
“Or Oprah!”

All of this as Elizabeth, Hesper’s best friend since forever, had flipped open her cell phone and was screaming, “What’s the number for 911? What’s the number for 911?!”

Amid the chaos, TJ looked over to Chad, who stared sadly after her, shaking his head. Along with
crazy
he had no doubt added
dangerous
to her list of personality traits.

Extremely
dangerous.

CHAPTER NINE

T Minus One Day
and Counting . . .

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, October 13

Begin Transmission:

Subject seems to be on verge of learning lesson . . . if she survives!

End Transmission

Chad stared out his window at the neighbor’s front lawn. It was supposed to be night. But with all the TV crews, lights, and a circling helicopter (or two), you’d never know it.

Talk about a circus. No wonder the new kid and her family were locked up in their house with the shades drawn.

Earlier, the six o’clock news had run a special report:
Star Stalker Stalks Star

where they showed what happened in the cafeteria about a hundred times—first in slow motion, then in stop action, then in reverse action, then in every type of action you could imagine (though the reenactment with hand puppets was a little much).

Poor kid. He really felt sorry for her.

It got even worse when she and her dad went outside and talked to the reporters. They must have figured explaining the truth would help. But who was interested in truth when a star stalker was stalking stars? (Say that ten times fast.)

“So tell us, BJ,” the first reporter had asked.

“That’s TJ,” her dad corrected.

“Right, so tell us, JT, when did you first decide to attack Hesper Breakahart?”

The new kid answered, “I didn’t decide to attack her.”

“Oh, it just happened, like you couldn’t control yourself.”

“No, it didn’t just happen.”

“So how long were you planning it?”

“Planning?” she asked.

“To beat her up like that.”

“I didn’t beat her up like that.”

“Then how
did
you beat her up?”

When it was clear nobody cared about the truth, her dad finally took her inside and closed the door. But the reporters didn’t go away. Soon they were swarming all over her yard.

One even began digging in her lawn.

“Hey, look what I found!” he shouted from beside the fence.

Chad craned his neck to see the reporter holding a shovel in one hand and an extra-thick, triple-ply garbage bag in the other.

“What’s in it?” someone yelled.

The man opened it, gave a sniff, and nearly passed out. Coughing and gasping for breath, he shouted, “Whatever it is, it must be toxic! Hey, wait a minute.” He rummaged in the bag. “This is where she stores her weapons.”

“You’re kidding!” another reporter shouted.

“No. I’m counting two—make that three—of those burnt hockey pucks!”

“Fantastic!”

“Better call the bomb squad.”

But the reporters weren’t just swarming over the new kid’s yard and digging through her trash. One reporter and his cameraman had actually crawled onto her roof and were sneaking around.

That was it. Chad had seen enough. He rapped loudly on his window and shouted, “Hey . . . hey!”

The reporter and his cameraman looked up, startled.

Chad unlatched his window and opened it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shh,” the reporter whispered. He motioned toward the new kid’s bedroom window. “We’re going to get a shot of her planning her next attack.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Right,” the reporter said. “Watch me.”

“Get down from there!” Chad demanded.

But they ignored him. No way would they listen to some kid.

Chad turned and started toward his door. They may not listen, but if he went out there and physically dragged them off the roof, they’d pay attention. Unfortunately, he’d barely stepped into his hallway before he heard a weird and oddly familiar

He raced back to his bedroom window. The reporter and the cameraman had completely disappeared. The camera was still there. So was the microphone. But instead of two men . . .

Chad closed his eyes and shook his head. When he reopened them, nothing had changed. Instead of two men, there were now two kangaroos hopping around on the roof. Two kangaroos who looked very frightened and very, very confused.

The following day Tuna and Herby had to convince TJ to go back to school.

“Everybody hates me,” she argued as she shuffled down the stairs to breakfast. (It was Violet’s turn to cook, which meant everything would be healthy . . . and impossible to eat.)

“Not Doug and Naomi,” Tuna said. “They don’t hate you.”

TJ gave him a look. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“It will,” Herby giggled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The boys exchanged knowing glances.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “You’re from the future, so you can tell me what’s going to happen, right?”

“Right, but wrong,” Herby said.

“Can, but won’t,” Tuna agreed. “However, we may continue to remind you about the lesson you are currently learning.”

“Lesson?” TJ asked.

“Regarding how one should not show favoritism.”

“Favoritism?”

“Yeah, how you totally treat Chad and Hesper like royalty—”

“—and Doug and Naomi like beggars.”

TJ sighed wearily as they reached the bottom of the stairs. She’d almost forgotten their earlier lecture.

As they headed toward the kitchen, Herby continued. “No offense, Your Dude-ness, but you have to be, like, the world’s slowest learner.”

“Come on, guys,” she argued, “Doug and Naomi—they’re so, so . . .”

“Doug-ish and Naomi-ish?” Herby asked.

“Well, yeah.”

Tuna cleared his throat and quoted: “‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ But if you favor some people over others, you are committing a sin.”

She turned to him and frowned. “That sounds like something I’ve heard in church.”

“It should; it’s in the Bible.”

“Whoa, you guys still use the Bible?” she asked.

“Of course,” Herby said. “We’re not totally torked.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” TJ muttered.

“Pardon me?” Dad asked, looking up from his morning paper.

“Nothing,” TJ said as she arrived and pulled out a chair. Before her sat a dozen dishes of fried grass, poached celery, scrambled birch bark, and three different types of organically grown mold.

Violet had really outdone herself this time.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Dad said, “with all the drama going on right now, if you want to skip school today, I’ll certainly understand.” He reached over and poured himself another cup of steaming pinesap.

TJ looked hopefully across the table, where Herby and Tuna sat invisible—well, invisible to everyone but her. Both were shaking their heads.

“So what do you think?” Dad asked.

The boys shook their heads more violently.

Reluctantly, TJ answered, “That’s okay, Daddy, I think I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?”

She glanced back to the guys, who were nodding and grinning.

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m sure. Besides, maybe I’ll actually learn something.” Then, under her breath, she muttered, “I’d better.”

“And since we have finally come upon the final day to finally finish your science fair projects . . .” Mr. Beaker stood before the class doing what he did best—boring everyone to tears (or at least to sleep).

TJ tried her best to listen, but it’s hard listening when you’re busy