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“and no chemicals or artificial flavors are added.”

  TRANSLATION: Kiss the taste good-bye. (Unless you wanted to eat the box, which ALWAYS had more flavor than the pizzas she ordered.)

  But as exciting as it all sounded, TJ decided to pass.

  Dad was disappointed, and Dorie begged her to come (and Violet asked if she could have her extra pieces). But TJ had more important things on her mind. She had to make a decision.

  And the best place for making important decisions was where she was now . . . walking alone on the beach at sunset.

  It was hard to believe that one little bit of cheating could cause so many problems. It seemed like every time she turned around, it got worse. And this time it had nothing to do with Tuna and Herby’s attempts at spying or their trips into her future or their fritzing Swiss Army Knife.

  Instead, it had everything to do with Hesper expecting her to write her history report, Elizabeth threatening to tell the school she was some strange weirdo (as if they didn’t already know), and Miss Grumpaton expecting her to write some amazing essay for some national contest.

  Maybe Tuna and Herby were right. Maybe she should put a stop to it. Maybe she should tell Miss Grumpaton that she cheated. Sure, it would mean getting an F, but at least things would get back to normal (well, as normal as possible with two boys from the 23rd century haunting her life).

  Maybe the old saying really was true. Maybe honesty really was the best policy.

  These were the thoughts spinning through TJ’s brain until she looked down at the sand and froze. Because there, with everybody else’s footprints, were holes spaced evenly apart.

  Holes that could only be made by someone with a peg leg!

  Or . . .

  “Hey.”

  She looked up and was startled to see Chad Steel just ahead. He was walking on the beach with his crutches. Immediately, her hand shot up to her hair to smooth it . . . or cover her face . . . or both. There was also the sudden pounding of her heart, so loud she barely heard her own voice croak back, “Hi.”

  He waited for her to catch up. She ordered her legs to move and someway—she wasn’t sure how—they obeyed. A moment later they were walking side by side.

  After a few seconds of deathly silence (which felt more like years of deathly silence), Chad finally cleared his throat. “That was something today in English class, wasn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  More deathly silence.

  He tried again. “I mean, whoever that actor was, he was good.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Repeat in the deathly silence department.

  “Talk about a fast exit. It was like he disappeared right out of my hands.”

  “Uh-huh.” TJ was sure she knew other words, but at the moment she couldn’t think of any.

  He turned to look at the sun setting over the water. Purple and pink bands spread across the sky, so vivid it was like it was on fire. “Sure is pretty,” he said.

  All right, it was now or never. She would go out on a limb. She would say something deep and profound. Something that would impress this incredible guy with her incredible intelligence. Taking a deep breath for courage, she went for broke and croaked, “Yeah.”

  (So much for incredible intelligence.)

  They continued down the beach.

  Once again he tried to make conversation. “I come here this time of night when I have things to work out.”

  She turned to him, amazed. Of course she wanted to tell him that’s exactly why she was there. Unfortunately, that would involve opening her mouth and sounding like a human being, which she knew was out of the question, so she let him continue.

  “Doug Claudlooper has been building this fancy surfboard that he wants me to use in Sunday’s competition.”

  TJ returned to her old habits. “Uh-huh.” (Better safe than sorry.)

  “I mean, it’s supposed to help me win and everything—even with this stupid cast, which no one would notice under my wet suit.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But using a nonregulation board is definitely cheating, and I just don’t know if I want to do that.”

  If TJ’s jaw had dropped any lower, it would have hit the sand. Was it possible? He was struggling with the very thing she was! Unbelievable. Here she was, feeling so alone and cut off, absolutely positive that nobody would understand what she was going through . . . and then, out of the blue, this incredible guy showed up and said he was fighting exactly the same thing. Amazing. She wasn’t alone. She wanted to say all this and more, but her throat was already closing up with emotion. She cleared it and tried to speak, to blurt out all these feelings and more, but of course nothing came . . . unless you count tears filling her eyes.

  Tears?! she thought. Oh, brother, what’s that about? She turned her head. If she was lucky, he wouldn’t see them. (Then again, we all know about her luck.)

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

  She angrily swiped at her eyes.

  “Are you crying?”

  She shook her head, refusing to look at him.

  “You are, aren’t you? What did I say this time?”

  And then, before she could stop herself, she turned and bolted away. She wasn’t sure why. All she knew was she had to get away before he thought she was a total mental case—which, she figured, he might already suspect.

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  But TJ didn’t turn back. She just kept running.

  “I’m sorry!”

  Tears spilled onto her cheeks and ran down her face.

  “Whatever I said, I’m really, really sorry!”

  She didn’t answer, just kept running.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hide and Go EEEK!

  TIME TRAVEL LOG:

  Malibu, California, October 21—supplemental

  Begin Transmission:

  Uninvited guest dropped by. Subject not home, so we entertained. Had great time—except for the ghosts.

  End Transmission

  As TJ was busy having her little meltdown with Chad, Elizabeth was having her little break-in at TJ’s.

  Actually, it was pretty easy to break in through TJ’s bathroom window. Her dad always left it open because he figured no one was small enough to climb in. Normally, he’d be right. But he’d forgotten they now lived in . . .

  Malibu, California—the stick-figure capital of the world.

  Malibu, California—where everyone tries to imitate the walking skeletons they see in fashion magazines.

  Malibu, California—where every sickly-looking, starving girl starves herself so she could look like every other sickly-looking, starving girl.

  So, needless to say, it was a breeze for Elizabeth to slip in through the window. Once inside, she began pulling out the tiny surveillance cameras Hesper’s TV producer had loaned her. They were barely the size of a pack of gum, which made Elizabeth’s plan all the easier. She’d simply stick them up around the house, turn them on by remote control, and record TJ casting spells, doing voodoo, or communicating with the mother ship.

  And once she had the proof on tape, she could force TJ to do whatever she wanted for as long as she wanted.

  The plan was flawless . . . except for the strange and creepy voices she heard as she entered the upstairs hallway.

  “Zwork!” a voice whispered from behind her. “What’s she doing here?”

  Elizabeth gasped and spun around. But nobody was there.

  “It’s Hesper’s best friend,” another voice whispered. “The one since forever.”

  Again Elizabeth spun around. And again it was nobody. And seeing two nobodies meant the same as seeing no nobodies, which meant that the nobodies really had no bodies and were actually . . .

  “GHOSTS!” Elizabeth screamed.

  “WHERE?” the first voice screamed back.

  “HIDE ME!” the second voice cried.

  But Elizabeth was in no mood for a conversation . . . especially with two nobodies who had no bodies who . . . Let’s not do
that again. Instead, let’s just say she had three choices:

  A) Scream and faint in fear

  B) Run for her life

  C) Escape into the nearest room

  The good news was she chose C (and a little bit of A, so she could still work in the screaming).

  The bad news was the nearest room was TJ’s.

  Elizabeth raced into the darkened room and slammed the door behind her.

  Everything was very quiet and very still . . . except for the voices whispering right beside her.

  “Are they gone?”

  “Who?”

  “The ghosts!”

  Elizabeth caught her breath, trying not to scream.

  “How should I know? I can’t see a thing. Turn on the light.”

  Elizabeth’s heart raced as the lights blazed on. Frantically, she looked about the room, but no one was there. She took a deep breath for courage and then another. Finally she called out, “Who . . . who’s there? Who are you? What’s going on?”

  “How are we going to get her out of here?”

  “Good question.”

  Elizabeth tried to swallow. “I . . . I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Perhaps the Reverse Beam Blade?”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Who are you?” Elizabeth took a step forward. “What planet do you—?”

  Suddenly Elizabeth felt her body spinning around and her feet walking. But they weren’t walking forward. They were walking backward. In fact, everything about her was moving backward. Including her words:

  “?—uoy od tenalp tahW ?uoy era ohW”

  No matter how hard she tried to walk and talk normally, she couldn’t.

  “.erehwyna gniog ton m’I . . . I”

  She continued backward toward the door exactly as she had entered. Except for one minor detail.

  “She’s off angle, dude.”

  “What?”

  “She’s going to miss the doorway; she’s going to hit the wall.”

  And that’s exactly what she did. But instead of hitting the wall and stopping, she kept right on going . . . right up the wall.

  “Turn it off, Herby. Bring her back down.”

  “I’m trying.”

  Along with the voices, Elizabeth heard a strange

  followed by more

  which ended in a pathetic little

  Unfortunately, her human fly routine wasn’t quite over. Because once she reached the ceiling, she took another corner and started upside down across it.

  Elizabeth was definitely not having a good time. In fact, she was trying really hard to pass out, but it’s hard passing out when you’re standing upside down and all the blood is rushing to your head.

  Fortunately, after a few more

  and one or two more

  she finally heard a slightly reassuring sound.

  And just like that, she

  fell to the

  floor.

  Needless to say, she felt great being on the ground again. But this was no time to stick around and celebrate. It was, however, a time to run out of the room, stumble down the stairs, and race outside.

  It was also a time to bump into TJ, who was coming back from the beach, and to scream to her, “PLEASE! I promise I won’t tell anyone! Just don’t kidnap me to your planet or turn me into a toad!”

  And with that friendly farewell, Elizabeth turned and continued running for her life.

  The following morning, bright and early, Chad was out on his surfboard. He’d made his decision . . . or Doug had worn him down until he’d made it. There’s something about 2:00 a.m. calls that can do that. . . .

  And if 2:00 a.m. calls don’t work, there’s always

  2:49 a.m. calls,

  3:10 a.m. calls,

  3:51 a.m. calls,

  4:07 a.m. calls,

  4:45 a.m. calls,

  5:06 a.m. calls,

  and . . . well, let’s just say Doug can be pretty persistent.

  By 7:12 a.m., Chad had finally agreed to try out the new board. Unfortunately, all the listening to Doug’s talking (and sniff-sniff-ing) had worn him out. He was so tired, he could barely stand. But it didn’t matter. Once they sealed his cast in a giant plastic bag and put on his wet suit, everything was automatic. All Chad had to do was stand up (with the help of a metal brace running down his legs and powerful magnets attached to the board) and let Doug do all the work.

  It was beautiful.

  Well, it was beautiful after the first thermonuclear explosion, the six trips to the ER, and a visit by the USS Kitty Hawk to stop what they thought was a national invasion.

  (Okay, that’s another exaggeration—there were only three trips to the ER.)

  Anyway, by the end of the day, all of the kinks were worked out. There was little doubt that tomorrow Chad Steel would be able to shut down all the competition and become a major winner. Now, if he could just shut down all the guilty thoughts that said he was a major loser. Actually, his thoughts weren’t really calling him a loser. They were calling him something else. A word starting with C H E A, ending in T E R, and without many letters in between.

  TJ’s Saturday was about the same as Chad’s . . . but without the cool beach, beautiful ocean, or occasional visit by aircraft carriers.

  However, she did have plenty of crumpled papers to keep her company, since crumpled papers are what you get when you try 2,121 times to start an essay that you’re clueless about how to write. That’s right; she’d also given in to the dark side in a major, Darth Vader kind of way. (It was either that or fail English as a UFO alien vampire witch—something she doubted would be all that attractive to the Chad Steels of the world.)

  Of course the writing might have been easier if she didn’t have two time-traveling goofballs floating cross-legged at opposite ends of her desk.

  “This is really torked, Your Babe-ness.”

  “Herby, please,” she said, running her hands through her hair. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

  “Perhaps you should concentrate on telling Miss Grumpaton the truth, instead of attempting to cover it up,” Tuna suggested.

  “And get an F on the book report?” TJ snapped. “No way.”

  Tuna frowned. A moment of silence passed before he finally cleared his throat. “Hmm . . .”

  TJ tried to ignore him.

  He tried a little louder. “Hmm . . .”

  Again she ignored him.

  “HMM . . .”

  “All right!” She tossed her pencil on the desk. “What is it, Tuna?”

  “Oh, was I disturbing you?” he asked innocently.

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “It certainly wasn’t my intention.”

  She arched the other eyebrow. (When it comes to eyebrows, TJ is ambidextrous.)

  Finally Tuna spoke. “It seems rather odd—how cheating to eliminate extra work has only brought you more work. When, in reality, there would have been less work if you had hadn’t cheated.”

  “You mean if we hadn’t cheated,” she corrected. “Remember, you’re the ones who got me into this mess.”

  “That’s totally right, Your Dude-ness,” Herby agreed. “And we want to be the ones to get you out.”

  “Not this time,” she said returning to her work. Then, hesitating, she looked back to him. “Unless you want to help me write the essay.”

  “Really?” Herby chirped excitedly. “That would be so outloopish! We could transport some super genius here to your room, and—”

  “Ahem,” Tuna said, trying to get his attention.

  “—he could write something stupenderous, and, and—”

  “AHEM,” Tuna repeated.

  Herby glanced over to see Tuna shaking his head.

  Herby suddenly caught on and sighed, “And that would be cheating again, wouldn’t it?”

  Tuna nodded. “And cheating is bad because . . . ?” He waited for Herby to answer.

  Herby scrunched his face into a frown.

  Tuna repeated the question a
little slower. “And cheating is bad because . . . ?”

  Herby’s face brightened. “Because it’s cheating!”

  Tuna dropped his head into his hands and slowly shook it.

  Suddenly there was a

  at the door, followed by Dorie’s squeaky little voice. “TJ?”

  “What is it, Squid?” TJ called.

  “When are we going to the beach?”

  “The beach?”

  “You said we were going swimming today, remember?”

  TJ’s heart sank. “I’m sorry, Dorie. But I’ve got way too much homework to do.”

  “But . . . you promised.”

  The disappointment in her sister’s voice made TJ feel even worse. “Yeah, I know I promised. Maybe later. Okay?”

  “Okay.” It was obvious Dorie was trying to sound hopeful. But it was also obvious she’d failed miserably. And then, just before she walked away, there was a faint scraping sound.

  TJ turned and saw a squished piece of pizza sliding under her door. “What’s that?” she called.

  “Pizza from last night,” Dorie said. “I snucked it home ’cause I knew you’d want some.”

  If TJ was feeling bad before, she was feeling downright miserable now.

  “I’ll see you later,” Dorie said.

  “Yeah,” TJ sighed. “Later.”

  With that, Dorie’s little footsteps turned and faded as they headed down the hall.

  TJ closed her eyes. But she had work to do. So she reopened them, ignored the heaviness in her chest, and returned to writing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ahoy, Ye Surfers!

  TIME TRAVEL LOG:

  Malibu, California, October 23

  Begin Transmission:

  Sometimes even major babes must learn the hard way.

  End Transmission

  The surf meet was quite a production. Chad guessed there were over a thousand people scattered up and down the beach—along with food vendors, T-shirt sellers, volleyball players, and a local TV crew, which of course meant Hesper Breakahart and her posse were there, pretending to cheer Chad on (while making sure they were always in front of the cameras).