by Bill Myers
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.
the crowd gasped as the hamburger patty raced toward Hesper’s face.
the hamburger patty ker-splatted 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 ru
mmaged 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
dozing off every few seconds.
“ . . . gather your projects and proceed directly to the gymnasium, where the judges will begin judging first thing tomorrow morning and where, if you are fortunate enough to . . .”
It’s not just that Mr. Beaker was boring, but you could make millions selling his voice. Forget tranquilizers or sleeping pills—just drop in a CD of Mr. Beaker and everyone would immediately nod off.
“ . . . and furthermore and therefore and so forth and so on . . .”
TJ wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep before she was startled awake by something rubbing against her leg and the quiet
of a cat.
She looked down to see Doug’s mechanical kitten at her feet. Talk about cute. It still looked like a robot, with all the steel and stuff, but he’d added a pair of little ears and furry pipe-cleaner whiskers. It really was cute. And in its little mouth it held a card.
TJ glanced up to Mr. Beaker, who was still furthermoring, thereforing, and so-forthing. She reached down to take the card and read:
I didn’t mean to be a bother.
Can we start over just as friends?
She looked across the room and saw Doug operating the remote controls. It was a sweet gesture and she had to smile. He smiled back. Not all goofy and weird like before. More like . . . well, like a friend.
And when Mr. Beaker had finally finished (by putting himself to sleep), she got up and joined Doug.
“So what do you think?” he sniffed.
She looked down to the kitten. “I think he’s really cute.”
“He’s a she,” Doug corrected.
“Oh, and does she have a name?”
“I call her TJ.” He beamed.
TJ frowned and fidgeted.
He winced. “A little much?”
She nodded. “A little much.”
“Sorry. Then how ’bout Killer?”
“Killer?” She giggled. “For a kitten?”
“Sure.”
“She doesn’t look like a killer.”
“Ah—” Doug grinned—“but looks can be deceiving.” He pressed another button on his remote control and out of the cute little mouth came a gigantic little
It was so loud, it woke up everyone in the class (including Mr. Beaker). And it was so funny, TJ broke out laughing. Everybody in the room turned to glare at her (Big Surprise #1). And they all tried to make her feel small and stupid (Big Surprise #2). But it was so funny, she didn’t care. For the first time since she’d started school, she didn’t care what anybody thought. And it felt terrific.
“So,” Doug sniffed, “shall we take her to the gym and set up the display?”
TJ motioned to the hall. “Let’s do it.”
He nodded, pushed a few more levers, and the three of them headed toward th
e door. Of course, everyone was still staring, so of course, Doug pressed the button and Killer gave another, even louder
as they headed out of the room and down the hall, laughing all the way.
Chad watched them leave the room. He couldn’t help smiling, pleased that the new kid had finally found a friend. His cell phone vibrated and he opened it to read the text. It was from Hesper.
GOOD NEWZ. HIRED A TEAM OF
SCIENTISTS 2 FIX OUR SCI FAIR PROJECT
Chad texted back:
FIX?
She answered:
THEYRE ADDING A LASER BEAM
WILL B READY TOMORROW
Chad blinked at the screen.
LASER BEAM? ON A MOUSE??
Hesper answered with a final message:
NOBODY MESSES WITH ME.
UR GONNA LOVE IT !!!
XOXOXXO
Chad stared at the message. The good feeling he had for the new kid suddenly didn’t feel so good. With Hesper on the warpath, it didn’t feel good at all.
CHAPTER TEN
Show and Tell YELL!
Time Travel Log:
Malibu, California, October 14
Begin Transmission:
If you thought things were bad before . . .
End Transmission
For the first time that week, TJ almost felt good about going to school.
Almost.
She would have felt better if the two boys hadn’t insisted on tagging along.
“Trust us, Your Dude-ness,” Herby said, floating invisibly beside her. “You’ll want us with you.”
