New Kid Catastrophes: 1 (TJ and the Time Stumblers) (2 page)

“What’s that?” Herby asked.

“Nothing much.”

“And by ‘nothing much,’ you mean—”

“The sound of all our electrical equipment shorting out from 847 gallons of seawater pouring over it.”

“Is that all?” Herby said. “I thought we were in major trouble.”

“Oh, we are,” Tuna said. “We’re in major trouble, big-time.”

CHAPTER ONE

Beginnings . . .

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, October 9

Begin Transmission:

21st-century education is majorly weird. Kids sit in boring rooms listening to boring grown-ups talk about boring subjects. What a torked way to learn. Have encountered subject. She’s as smoot as her holographs in the history museum. Soon she will encounter Chad Steel, her next-door neighbor. Bummer, ’cause she really is smoot. I think Tuna is in love. Me too. She’s smooted to the max!

End Transmission

“TJ, look out!”

Thelma Jean Finkelstein glanced up just in time to see the family’s grand piano racing toward her.

The moving guys were rolling it down the ramp of the moving van. Well, they
had
been rolling it. Now it was rolling itself, faster than a speeding bullet with TJ as the target.

The way she figured, she had three choices:

CHOICE #1
—Become piano roadkill.

CHOICE #2
—Leap to the left and into the pool. Usually no prob—she loved swimming (except her hair always frizzed out). The problem today was the pool was empty and she was near the deep end. Deep as in,
call the ambulance, ’cause she’ll be breaking both of her legs
kinda deep.

CHOICE #3
—Leap to the right. Again, no prob, except for that pesky sliding glass door. Somehow, regaining consciousness while attendants picked broken glass out of her hair (in that same ambulance) was not how she wanted to spend her first day in Malibu, California.

This left TJ with Choice #4. (I know she figured three choices, but she’s never been good at math.) The ever-popular
leap on top of the gas barbecue and hope the piano somehow misses you
choice.

A great idea. Except the piano didn’t somehow miss her . . . or the barbecue. Instead, it sort of

into the barbecue and sent TJ flying into the air.

Actually, the flying part was easy. It was the landing that wasn’t so great. The good news was she didn’t land in the pool or slam into the sliding glass door. The bad news was she landed on top of the piano . . . which was still rolling . . . straight toward the neighbors’ fence!

By now her whole family had run around the house to see what all the hysterical screaming and pants-wetting was about.

Dad was giving his usual Dad advice: “TJ, quit fooling around and get off that piano this instant!”

Little six-year-old Dorie was jumping up and down shouting in her cute little six-year-old voice, “Yippee! Can I go next? Can I go next?”

Nine-year-old Violet (part-time genius and full-time pain in the neck) was already scheming. “If she dies, can I have her room?”

And what family get-together would be complete without Fido the Wonder Dog barking his little wonder-dog head off?

TJ would have loved to stick around and chitchat with everyone, but it’s hard chitchatting when you’re hanging on for your life and screaming your lungs out.

And the fun and games weren’t exactly over. She still had to introduce herself to the neighbors. Unfortunately, this involved having to

through their fence and join the little pool party they were having.

Fortunately, they were kids her age and probably attended the same school she’d be starting tomorrow.

Unfortunately, they were kids her age and probably attended the same school she’d be starting tomorrow.

Sigh . . .

Of course, the guests did the usual screaming and shouting. “Run for your lives; it’s a crazy girl riding a piano!” But they didn’t have to worry. Their pool was full of water, which explains the

of the grand piano . . . and the

of its sinking to the bottom. (With luck this would mean no piano lessons till Dad bought another one . . . or at least till he got TJ some cool scuba gear.)

She thought of sticking around and swimming a few laps (to work off that extra pizza she had for lunch), but there was something about 20 rich and snobbish 13-year-olds all staring down at her that made her change her mind.

Then there was the most gorgeous boy she’d ever seen in her life. He was stooping down and reaching out his hand to her.

“Hey, are you all right?” he asked.

After coughing up a gallon of water, she nodded and took his hand.

“I’m Chad,” he said. “Chad Steel.”

She climbed out of the pool, a droopy, drippy mess, and looked into his incredible blue eyes.

He grinned. “It looks like we’re neighbors.”

She nodded, unable to take her eyes from his.

He kept smiling. “And your name is?”

She wanted to introduce herself but was having a hard time finding her voice, much less remembering her name. (Incredible blue eyes will do that to a person.)

He cocked his head, waiting for an answer.

Come on, TJ
, she thought. (
It is TJ, isn’t it?)

His smile sagged a little.

It was now or never. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Those beautiful blue eyes darkened with concern. Not concern like
I will love and cherish you until the day you die
concern. More like
What mental hospital did you escape from?
concern.

But TJ was determined to say something, anything. Unfortunately, she did: “You’re . . . you’re gorgeous.”

At least that’s what Chad heard over his cell phone as Hesper, his sorta girlfriend, kept talking and talking and talking some more. Honestly, did the girl ever stop to take a breath?

But Chad was a nice guy and didn’t want to be rude, so he let her continue

Of course, it would help if the
blah-
ing wasn’t always about Hesper. Then again, it wasn’t her fault that she had her own TV series on the Dizzy Channel. It wasn’t her fault everyone made a fuss over her. And it wasn’t her fault she thought the world revolved around her. (Actually, not the world; more like the entire solar system or galaxy or . . . well, you get the idea.)

The only good thing about her talking so much was that it drowned out his parents’ fighting. It was like a rule or something. Whenever Dad visited, Chad’s parents fought. Even though they’d been divorced for, like, forever, you could always plan on the world’s biggest shouting match whenever he stopped by. Funny how people think having money makes you happy. As far as Chad figured, it was just the opposite.

Anyway, now he was sitting at his desk, slaving over a book report. Well, if you call staring out your second-story window at the house next door and thinking about your new neighbor “slaving.” He guessed her window was the closest to his. And I do mean
close
. Houses on the beach were built so tightly together that if you sneezed, your neighbor could reach out the window and hand you a tissue.