by Bill Myers
The surfboard had performed flawlessly—no problems, no surprises, no nuclear holocausts. Chad had made it through all the qualifying rounds and now he was about to begin the finals.
“It’s gonna be incredible!” Doug said, gulping down a soda. “You’re going to (sniff-sniff) shut them all down and become regional champ.” (BURP!—Doug never passed up the opportunity to try out new bodily sound effects.)
Chad grinned. “You think so?”
“We know so,” Naomi said. “And after that (click, clack) we’re off to the national (crunch) championships!”
Chad nodded as he looked out over the water. He still felt bad about cheating, but not nearly as bad since he was winning. Suddenly something caught his attention. “Hey, isn’t that the new kid’s sister?”
“Who?” Doug sniff-ed.
“Where?” Naomi click-ed.
“Out there, wading in the surf. She’s pretty young. Somebody should be with her.”
Doug spotted her and shrugged. “She’ll be fine. I’m sure TJ’s around to—”
He was interrupted by the PA announcement:
“Let’s go,” Doug said.
Chad continued looking after the little sister. “Yeah, but—”
“Don’t worry,” Naomi said. “She’ll be fine. You need to focus all your concentration on winning this meet.”
Reluctantly, Chad nodded. He picked up his board and, with Doug’s help, limped toward the water.
That same morning, TJ decided not to go to church with her family. She had two reasons:
1. She was lost in an avalanche of crumpled papers.
2. She figured God might work something into the pastor’s sermon to remind her she shouldn’t be doing what she was doing. (He can be tricky that way.)
But as she was about to discover, God has plenty of other ways to make a point.
It all started with Dad dropping Dorie off after church and going out to lunch with Violet. Part of his quality family time routine was having a date with each of his daughters once a week. That was cool.
What was not cool was TJ’s turning on the local TV station and seeing Chad in the competition. She’d hoped he would be more honest than that. Then again, how could she blame him? Wasn’t she being just as dishonest?
(See what I mean about God being tricky? And if you think that’s something, hang on. He was just warming up.)
Truth be told, it was kinda fun to see Chad on TV.
More truth be told, it was not kinda fun seeing Hesper Breakahart and all her wannabes posing for the cameras in their super-expensive, super-sheer, super-are-those-really-swimsuits-or-are-they-wearing-dental-floss? swimwear. It was even less than not kinda fun when TJ caught a glimpse of a child splashing and playing at the water’s edge. A child who looked exactly like . . .
“Dorie!” TJ cried. Obviously, her sister had sneaked off and gone to the beach on her own. “Tuna! Herby!”
Immediately the boys
into her room from their place in the attic.
“We gotta save Dorie!” TJ shouted. “She’s at the beach by herself and she can’t swim!”
“Say no more,” Herby said. He reached for the trusty Swiss Army Knife, pulled out a blade, and they
right to the
. . . well, it was supposed to be the beach. But by the looks of things, they were at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean! (Either that or the whales drifting by had just learned to fly.)
“HERB-BLUB-BLUB-BLUB-Y!” TJ shouted.
Herb-blub-y reached back to his knife and
The good news was they landed on the beach.
The bad news was Long John Silver and his noisy
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”
parrot had appeared, too.
The badder news (don’t try that word on Miss Grumpaton) was he was pointing his pistol at a volleyball player who was about to serve.
“Hand over that cannonball, matey, before I blow ye to kingdom come.”
“Cannonball?” the player laughed nervously. “It’s a volleyball!”
The pirate cocked his pistol and growled, “I don’t care what ye naked natives call it. I need more ammo fer me ship.”
“But—”
Suddenly TJ spotted Dorie. “There she is!” She pointed at the little girl, who was already in the surf, being pulled out into the ocean. TJ took off for her, yelling, “Dorie! Dorie!”
Meanwhile, Tuna and Herby both knew they had to get rid of Long John Silver for good. Unfortunately they had separate plans. Unfortunatelier (another word to hide from Miss Grumpaton), they put their plans into action at exactly the same time.
Tuna pulled out the Swiss Army Time Freezer Blade (sold at 23rd-century time-travel stores everywhere) and fired it
at the pirate, the same instant Herby pulled out his 3D Calculator, entered the calculations, and tried to
subtract Long John Silver to 0.
But as usual, the equipment
So instead of being subtracted to 0, Long John Silver was multiplied to 1,304.
“Argh!” 1,304 Long John Silvers argh-ed.
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” 1,304 parrots screamed.
And remember the Time Freezer? Well, not being the best aim, Tuna missed Long John Silver and the beam bounced off his pistol (which had turned to 1,304 pistols), reflecting the beam 1,304 different directions.
No problem, except the Time Freezer was also shorting out. So, instead of freezing time, the beam froze the weather! (Don’t you just hate it when that happens?) Suddenly . . .
—the temperature dropped to -10 degrees
—the gentle ocean breeze turned into a snowy blizzard
—Hesper and all her friends turned blue and were covered in gross goose bumps . . . which meant running from the TV crew screaming, “Don’t let the cameras see us! Don’t let the cameras see us!”
Meanwhile, Chad had just caught the perfect wave and began working it for the perfect score . . . until he spotted the new kid swimming out from the beach. He tried ignoring her—after all, he was in the middle of winning the finals. But then he heard her shouting.
“Dorie . . . Dorie!”
He looked to where she was swimming and spotted her little sister doing a terrible imitation of not drowning. Again, he tried to focus on the competition. He’d worked too long and hard to be distracted.
“TJ!” the little girl screamed.
He threw another look in her direction.
Doug’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “What are you doing? Focus, Chad! Focus!”
“TJ, help me!”
“If you quit now, you’ll lose!”
“HELP ME!” The little sister began coughing and choking. “HELP ME!”
That was it. Chad made his decision. He pulled out of the wave, dropped to his knees, and began paddling toward the two of them.
Back on the beach, Herby, who still had this strange belief that he could actually help, tried the calculator again and suddenly there were
1,304 volleyballs blowing in the blizzard and slamming everyone in the head.
Well, not everyone; mostly blue, goose-bumpy girls in dental floss swimsuits who kept running around in the wind screaming, “Don’t let the cameras see us! Don’t—
let the—”
Tuna yelled over the noise, “The Morph Blade! The calculator’s not working! I’ll try the Morph Blade!”
“Stupenderous idea!” Herby shouted.
Unfortunately, the knife was doing its usual shorting-out routine, which would explain why all the surfboards became
mini pirate ships.
(If it matters, we’re at about 9.9 on the Weirdness Scale.)
Meanwhile, back in the ocean, TJ was exhausted. Her arms and legs were giving out. Dorie had managed to grab one of the stray volleyballs floating past, and it helped a little. It would have helped a lot if it didn’t have a giant hole pecked into it by one of the 1,304 parrots. She was only 50 feet ahead of TJ, but it could have just as ea
sily been 50 miles.
How could I have been so stupid? TJ thought. I promised to take Dorie swimming over and over again, but I never had time because of—
“Help me! TJ, HELP ME!” Dorie choked.
And now she’s going to drown. Now we’re both going to drown . . . all because of my stupid, stupid cheating!
“TJ!”
“Hang on!” she coughed. “HANG ON!”
But it did no good. TJ had nothing left. Her arms and legs finally quit working. It was over. It was all over, and it was all her fault. With her heart breaking, she started to sink. She slipped under the water, hating herself, figuring this was what she deserved . . . when a hand reached down to her. Desperately, she grabbed it. She hung on for all she was worth as it pulled her up out of the water. A moment later she was lying on the deck of a . . . mini pirate ship?!
Confused, she looked up, expecting to see some crazed pirate. Instead, she saw . . .
“Chad?” She coughed. “What are you doing on this thing?”
“I’m not sure!” he shouted. Before he could say any more, they were suddenly
with a dozen volleyballs.
Surprised, TJ rose to see they were surrounded by other mini pirate ships—lots of them, all manned by surfers. And instead of firing cannons at each other, they were firing . . . you guessed it . . . volleyballs.
(For those of you keeping score, that Weirdness Scale is now at 11.7 . . . and rising.)
It was like some giant game of dodgeball. The air was full of them, as every ship shot
volleyballs at every other ship.
“TJ!”
She turned to see little Dorie still thrashing in the water, trying to stay afloat. The good news was she was only a few yards ahead of them. The bad news was there was a pirate ship directly between them.
“Grab those volleyballs!” Chad shouted.
“What?”
He motioned to the balls floating in the water. “Grab them and fire at that ship. I gotta steer around it and save your sister!”
(Now we’re up to 13.9.)
Without hesitation, TJ scooped up a volleyball and threw it at the ship.
Of course the ship returned fire.
And of course, TJ fired back.
“Attagirl!” Chad shouted as she kept throwing the balls. “Keep it up!”
At last they broke past the ship and pulled alongside Dorie.
Chad leaned out to her and shouted, “Grab my hand!”
“Glug, glug, glug!” Dorie glug-ed.
Chad stretched for all he was worth until, finally . . . “Gotcha!” He pulled her from the water.
Of course Dorie did the usual coughing and choking routine (which tends to happen when your lungs are full of water). And of course TJ threw her arms around her and did the usual sobbing and crying routine (which tends to happen when you almost lose someone you love).
“Oh, Dorie, I’m so sorry,” TJ cried.
“Cough, cough, choke, choke,” Dorie replied.
And then, just when things were getting way too sappy, they heard
which, as you might recall, was the sound of one Reverse Beam Blade being activated. And if you couldn’t tell by the cheap sound effects, you could tell by the
“!EM PLEH, JT”
“!su ees saremac eht tel t’noD !su ees saremac eht tel t’noD”
“!thgie fo seceiP !thgie fo seceiP”
until, finally, TJ had traveled so far back in time that she was back in her own bed waking up.
Amazing! Incredible! (And by now, completely off the Weirdness Scale.) Everything was just the same as when she first woke up that morning. Nothing was different.
But it soon would be.
“TJ?” little Dorie’s voice squeaked from the other side of the door. “You awake?”
TJ coughed and cleared her throat. “What do you want, Squid?”
“You coming to church with us?”
A smile slowly spread across TJ’s face. The boys had sent her back from her own future. She’d get a second chance. And this time she’d do it right.
“TJ?”
“Yeah,” she said, throwing off her covers. “Just give me a sec to get dressed.”
“Cool. And maybe, maybe . . .” Dorie’s little voice began getting excited. “Maybe after that, we could go to the beach?”
“You bet.” TJ chuckled as she headed across the room toward her closet. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mopping Up
TIME TRAVEL LOG:
Malibu, California, October 23—TAKE TWO
Begin Transmission:
Thanks to our incredible genius and great skills, subject has finally done things our way. Which, for some unexplained reason, actually worked.
End Transmission
“Don’t go out too far,” TJ shouted to her little sister.
“Please . . . ,” Dorie begged, “just a little farther, please . . .”
Of course she used the exact whine described in the Little Sisters Can be Such a Pain Handbook. The whine listed right next to such requirements as:
—Little sisters must use the bathroom at the most inconvenient times. (Usually in the middle of a movie you’ve finally agreed to take them to.)
—Little sisters must sneak into your closet and steal your clothes. (Then put them on and act like they were theirs in the first place.)
—Little sisters must spy on your friends whenever they come over. (Especially if the friend happens to be a boy.)
“I won’t drown,” Dorie begged. “Pleeeeease? I promise.”
“You heard me.”
“Oh, all right.”
Granted, only letting Dorie wade up to her ankles might be overly cautious and extreme. But after all that had happened today (or hadn’t happened today), TJ wasn’t taking any chances. In fact, after her little field trip through Weirdville, she decided it was time to make some other extreme decisions as well.
—Today, the beach with Dorie
—Tomorrow, the truth with Miss Grumpaton (and, no doubt, after-school detention for the rest of her life)
“It won’t be too zworked,” Herby said, floating beside her above the sand.
“He’s right,” Tuna agreed, floating at her other side. “You really are doing the correct thing.”
“I suppose,” TJ sighed. “I just wish I could have learned without all the drama.”
“It does keep things interesting,” Tuna said.
“And it’ll look fantabulous in our history report,” Herby said. Then, with a sigh, he added, “If we ever do get home.”
TJ gave a small shudder at the thought. It was true; they’d been here for almost two weeks now, and their time-travel pod was still no closer to being repaired. She didn’t want to be rude, but the sooner they left, the sooner her life would return to normal.
“Hey!”
They turned to see Chad Steel hobbling down the beach toward them.
“Oh no,” TJ whispered, “what do I do?”
“Converse with him,” Tuna whispered.
“Unless you want to send him to that school of whales we saw earlier today,” Herby said, reaching for his Swiss Army Knife.
“No!” TJ gasped. “Put that away!”
“I’m sorry—” Chad frowned—“what’d you say?”
TJ swallowed and looked another direction.
He tried again. “I thought that was you down here.”
She nodded. There was nothing but silence.
Spotting Dorie, he asked, “Is that your little sister?”
She nodded. Nothing but more silence.
They watched a moment as Dorie kicked and splashed, having the time of her life in three inches of water.
“Cute kid,” he said.
More nodding. Even more silence.
It was deafening. At least to TJ. But as far as she could tell, Chad was perfectly comfortable with the silence. And why wouldn’t he be? He wasn’t the one worried abou
t how stupid he looked in a one-piece bathing suit, or why his hair always frizzed in the ocean air, or why he always came down with a bad case of muteness whenever he was around.
“Why aren’t you watching the surfing match?” he asked.
Instead of nodding, TJ tried something brand-new, a revolutionary approach. She shrugged.
“There are some pretty good surfers competing,” he said a little sadly.
Suddenly it dawned on her. He wasn’t there. And before she could catch herself, she croaked, “What about you?”
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“Why not?” she asked, still sounding more frog than human.
It was Chad’s turn to shrug. “Actually, you and your little sister—you guys were part of the reason.”
TJ didn’t understand.
He explained. “I had the weirdest dream. I was competing in the match—you know, cheating like we talked about a couple nights back?”
TJ returned to auto-nod.
“And I was just about to win, when I looked over my shoulder and saw your sister drowning.”
TJ swallowed, but her mouth was as dry as leather. Of course it hadn’t been a dream, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“And for a moment, I didn’t care. I know that sounds awful, but at that moment all I wanted to do was win.”
Again TJ tried to swallow, but her mouth was now as dry as leather stuck in a clothes dryer on high for three days in the middle of the Sahara Desert (on a very warm day).
“And that’s when it hit me. It’s like the more I was cheating, the less I cared about doing the right thing, until . . . well, until I cared more about winning than I cared about people.”
TJ said nothing. It’s hard talking when your heart has leaped into your throat.
Chad looked down at the sand. “Pretty creepy, huh.”
Once again she felt her eyes start to burn with tears. And once again she gave them a swipe.
