New Kid Catastrophes: 1 (TJ and the Time Stumblers) (3 page)

But her window was closed and her lights were out. She was probably already in bed. And who could blame her? It must have been a busy day for her. Busy and embarrassing . . .

First there was the crashing of his party—as in
CRASHING.

Then there was making the big splash—as in
BIG SPLASH.

Finally, when he pulled her out of the pool, all she could do was stand around shivering and stuttering. And trying to fix her hair. Lots of trying to fix her hair.

Girls. Go figure.

Once they’d taken her inside and she dried off, he had tried to help her relax by saying he’d see her in school tomorrow. She smiled, tried fixing her hair, and ran out the door.

(Well, she meant to run out the door. There was that little problem of forgetting to open it first.)

The best Chad figured, she had some mental issues. He’d never met a mentally challenged person before, but it was cool. If she needed his help, he’d be there to lend a hand.

In the meantime, there was his book report and, of course . . .

Hesper.

“TJ?” Little Dorie whispered into her big sister’s face.

“TJ, you awake?”

“No,” TJ said, “I’m sound asleep.”

“TJ?”

“Don’t bother me.”

“TJ, wake up.”

Trying to ignore Dorie was like trying to figure out compound fractions: impossible. Her cute little fingers began prying open TJ’s unhappy little eyelids. And a moment later, TJ was staring at her sister’s blurry face two inches in front of her.

Knowing the routine, TJ pulled back the covers and said, “All right, get in, Squid.”

Dorie crawled into the bed and scooted her back nice and close to TJ. Ever since Mom died, Dorie had a hard time sleeping by herself. And although TJ pretend to be annoyed by her (pretending to be annoyed is Rule #1 in the
Big Sister Handbook
), she understood.

Funny, it had been almost a year, but it felt like yesterday. People always said it would get better, but TJ had her doubts. It’s like there was this big hole inside her chest that would never,
never
, go away. Dorie and Vi felt it too. And so did Dad.

In fact, though she would never tell anybody, one time she caught him down in the kitchen late at night. She stood there, unseen in the shadows, and watched him shuffling around, warming some milk in a pan . . . and crying. She’d never seen her dad cry before. And it broke her heart. Even now, when she thought about it, it made the back of her throat ache.

They never talked much about Mom’s death. In fact, one of the reasons the family moved here from Missouri was to make a fresh start. But every once in a while, like when they heard the word
cancer
, you could see them get a little teary-eyed. That’s why TJ didn’t mind Dorie’s nightly visits . . . no matter how freezing cold her little feet were.

“You scared?” Dorie whispered.

“About what?” TJ asked.

“Starting a new school tomorrow.”

“Nah,” TJ lied.

“Me, too,” Dorie said.

TJ pretended to yawn. “I met half the kids from school over at Chad’s this afternoon. They already know what a klutz I am, so the hard part’s over.”

Dorie giggled. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“Chad.”

“Good night, Squid.”

“You do.”

“Good night.”

She snuggled closer, shoving those ice cube feet against TJ’s legs. TJ was about to complain when Dorie’s whole body stiffened. “What’s that?” she asked.

TJ tried to ignore her. But as always, ignoring Dorie was impossible.

“Listen,” she said. “Someone’s whispering.”

“It’s just the ocean,” TJ mumbled. “You’ll get used to it.”

“TJ?” Dorie squirmed around to face her. Her garlic-with-extra-onion breath told TJ she hadn’t brushed her teeth since this afternoon’s pizza.

Once again Dorie’s hand was on TJ’s face, feeling for her eyes. TJ saved her the trouble and opened them. Well, at least one of them. With the other she gave her world-famous
annoyed big sister
squint.

“Listen,” Dorie said.

TJ squinted harder. But then she heard it too.

“Return to the pod,”
a voice whispered.

“I just wanna make sure she’s safe, dude,”
a second voice answered.

TJ bolted up in bed.

“You simply wish to spy on her,”
the first voice said.

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

TJ turned to Dorie, whose eyes were as big as Frisbees. She reached for her glasses on the nightstand, slipped them on, and scanned the room, trying to see into the darkness. As the oldest, TJ had talked Dad into letting her have her own bedroom. Which was extremely cool . . . well, except for the part about its being haunted!

TJ swallowed. “Who’s . . . ?” Her voice squeaked like a rusty hinge. She tried again. “Who’s there?”

“Oh, man, now you torked it.”

“How can she possibly hear us?”

Dorie scooted closer. TJ barely noticed her ice feet. It’s hard noticing ice feet when you’re shivering in frozen fear.

“She can’t see us, can she?”

“How should I know?”

TJ took a shaky breath and shouted again. “Who’s there?”

“Don’t answer her.”

“What type of fool do you think I am?”

“How many types are there?”

“Ho, ho, you’re a real comedian, dude.”

For ghosts, they didn’t exactly sound like the scary type. TJ tried again. “Who’s there?!”

No answer.

“Hello?”

Repeat in the no-answer department.

TJ strained to hear even the slightest sound, the slightest breathing, the slightest anything. She stared at the unopened boxes in the middle of her room.

Nothing.

She tried one last time. Lowering her voice so she sounded in charge, she bellowed, “Is anyone there?!”

And then, ever so faintly, she heard the answer:

“No.”

CHAPTER TWO

New Friends
(and Enemies)

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, October 10

Begin Transmission:

Accidental contact with subject. Thanks to our superior intelligence, she suspects nothing. Will follow to school for further observation. Time pod still out of fuel. Tuna is sure he can find some. I’m sure we’re in deep quod-quod.

End Transmission
.

It was tough going back to sleep. Knowing your room is haunted by ghosts (even if they have low IQs) can do that to a person. Luckily, there were no more voices. TJ guessed even ghosts needed their beauty sleep. She was also glad she didn’t have any weird and scary dreams.

No, the nightmares didn’t start till the following morning, her first day at Malibu Junior High . . . .

For starters, why would anybody torture kids by making them take PE (better known as
P
hysical
E
mbarrassment) first thing in the morning? Not that there’s anything wrong with freezing to death as you run around the track. But TJ would have preferred for there to be enough daylight to
see
the track.

To be honest, that really wasn’t the problem, since her Midwest-winter legs were so incredibly non-tanned, they lit up the field.

“I can’t see where I’m going,” one of her bronzed California classmates shouted in the dark.

“Don’t worry!” another yelled. “Just follow the new kid with the glow-in-the-dark legs!”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t just their tans (or TJ’s lack of one) that set her apart from the others.

There was also their incredible bodies (and her incredible lack of one). Seriously, TJ felt like she was in the middle of a beauty pageant just going to school there! It’s not like they treated her badly or anything. They’d have to act like she existed to do that. And as far as she could tell, other than her night-light legs, she was completely invisible to them—like some homeless person that everyone pretended not to see.

There was one exception. One embarrassing exception . . .

Naomi Simpletwirp.

It’s not that Naomi was tall and gangly and an AV geek. It’s just that . . . well, all right, she
was
tall and gangly and an AV geek. And if you were trying to make a good impression on your first day of school, she was definitely
not
someone you wanted to be hanging with. TJ felt bad for being so judgmental, but hey, she didn’t invent the rules. It’s not her fault she was feeling what she felt, because she was feeling what she felt when she was feeling it.

TRANSLATION
:
Oh, well.

But no matter how hard she tried to ditch Naomi, it was like the girl was permanently glued to her side, a self-appointed tour guide.

They’d met during the second half of PE, when they were playing dodgeball. The game had barely started before TJ was overcome with the smell of spearmint and the deafening sound of someone

way too many breath mints.

Naomi had a thing about breath mints. She also had a thing about deodorants, bath oils, perfumes, odor-eater foot pads, and anything else she thought would make her smell beautiful. (I guess you could say she hadn’t quite grasped the concept of
inner
beauty yet.)

Her very first words to TJ were a warning: “Whatever you do, don’t hit Hesper.”

TJ looked at her. “Who?”

Naomi motioned to a gorgeous blonde on the other team who looked like one of those famous TV stars. The reason was simple. She
was
one of those famous TV stars. And if you couldn’t tell it by her perfect hair and perfect beauty, you could tell by the way all the other girls made such a big deal over her.

“Hesper, please throw my ball.”

“Hesper, please let the ball hit me.”

“Hesper, please let me go out for you.”

TJ blinked. “Is that Hesper Breakahart?”

Naomi nodded. “She goes to school here when she isn’t filming.”

TJ turned back and watched in amazement. Hesper was even prettier than on TV—though that might have been because of the hairstylist and makeup people standing on the sidelines.

One of her smaller groupies ran toward her with a ball. “Here, Hesper, I caught this one just for you.”

“Why, thank you, uh . . . What’s your name again?”

“I’m Elizabeth, your best friend since forever.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, thank you . . .”

“Elizabeth,” her best friend since forever said.

Hesper smiled. “That’s right.” Then, taking the ball, she tossed back her thick mane of hair and after a gleaming white smile, hurled the ball with all of her might. But having superslim arms doesn’t exactly make you strong. Which explains why the ball floated through the air like a feather and gently dropped into TJ’s hands for an easy catch.