Ho-Ho-NOOO! (2 page)

Unfortunately, the guys' time-travel pod had run out of fuel and they were stuck here.

Unfortunatelier (don't try that word in English class), TJ was the only one who could see them.

Unfortunateliest (the same goes for that word), people could still hear them.

“I told you,” she whispered, “no video games after nine o'clock.”

“We were just practicing.” Herby flipped aside his surfer bangs and flexed his muscles. (He was always flexing his muscles to try to impress TJ.)

Tuna explained, “We need to be prepared in case Bruce Bruiseabone reappears.”

“I thought he went back to the 23rd century,” TJ said.

“He did,” Herby agreed as he spotted a tiny fly buzzing around the room.

Tuna continued. “However, there's no telling when he'll show up again to torment us.”

“Or—” Herby lowered his voice and watched the fly buzz toward the attic window—“what form he'll take when he does.”

“Listen, guys,” TJ said. “You can practice all you want when I'm at school and nobody's home.”

“How can we protect you at school if we're practicing at home?” Tuna asked.

“My point exactly,” TJ said. “I've told you a hundred times I don't want you following me.” She paused to watch Herby tiptoe toward the window.

“Understood,” Tuna said. “However—”

He was interrupted by the sound of Herby leaping at the fly. But Herby's leaper was a little lame and he was unable to stop at the window. Instead, he sort of

leaped through the glass and

tumbled down the roof until he

landed in the flower bed.

Tuna and TJ raced to the window.

“Herby, are you all right?” TJ cried.

“Wuaff mwabom!” Herby replied (which is the best anyone can reply with a mouthful of geraniums).

“What?”

“Mwi maid (
spit-spit)
false alarm,” he finally shouted. He held out his hand and revealed one very squashed fly. “It wasn't Bruce after all!”

“Excellent news,” Tuna shouted.

Of course it would have been more excellent if TJ's father wasn't shouting from downstairs, “What's going on up there? TJ, are you okay?”

Luckily, Tuna had an answer for everything. (The answer was usually wrong, but he always had one.) Without a word, he pulled open the Reverse Beam Blade of his Swiss Army Knife and

everything

that had happened

was put into

reverse, until

Herby was back in the attic having the conversation about not following TJ to school.

Not that TJ was surprised. It was just another average, run-of-the-mill evening for TJ Finkelstein and her time stumblers.

TJ climbed down the attic steps and headed toward her bedroom. As she passed Violet's door, she saw that her middle sister still had the lights on. No surprise there. Violet always had her lights on. How else could she read 50 books a day, be president of every club in her school, and become dictator of the world before she was 16?

TJ pushed open the door to see Violet standing on a ladder. She was writing numbers on a big thermometer chart that stretched up to the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” TJ asked.

Violet answered without turning. “I'm checking to see how much more money I need to earn for Daddy's gift.”

“Gift?” TJ asked. “For what?”