AAAARGH!!! (5 page)

everything returned to normal.

“You okay?” little Dorie squeaked in her little six-year-old voice.

“I’m fine, Squid,” TJ said, scooping up her backpack and heading past her. “Come on; we’ll be late.” Dorie nodded and followed. “You gonna take me swimming right after school like you promised?”

“Sure.”

“Great,” she said, skipping down the stairs after her. “’Cause Dad won’t let me go in the ocean by myself.”

“Guess he figures one dead Finkelstein a year is enough.”

It was supposed to be a joke. Their mother had died almost a year ago, which was one of the reasons their father had packed them up and moved to California. But even as she said it, TJ realized it wasn’t funny. She was definitely on edge from her little encounter upstairs.

“TJ?” Dorie asked.

“Yeah?”

“Is that a feather in your hair?”

TJ reached up to her head and pulled off a bright green parrot feather.

Dorie looked at her. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

TJ shoved the feather into her pocket and opened the front door. “Everything’s fine, Squid, perfectly normal. Let’s go.”

And the truth was TJ wasn’t lying. Because for her, all this craziness
was
perfectly normal. Unfortunately, her latest perfectly normal would seem even more perfectly normal compared to the perfectly normal she was about to experience, which would be anything but normal.

TRANSLATION:
You guessed it: things will be getting a bit un-normal.

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, October 20—supplemental

Begin Transmission:

Stopped by subject’s school to check up on her. (Ahh . . .) Problems increasing. (Ahh . . . ahhh . . .) Also afraid from what happened. I may be allergic to either salt or (ahh . . . ahhh . . . CHOO!) pepper.

End Transmission

“Thelma Jean?”

TJ was never fond of hearing her real name spoken. (With a name like hers, who could blame her?)

“Thelma Jean Finkelstein?”

She was even less fond of hearing her entire name. (Wouldn’t you be?)

“Thelma Jean Finkelstein, may I see you a moment?”

And when it came from the lips of a teacher like Miss Grumpaton (who had a frown tattooed on her forehead so she could look mean even when she slept), TJ knew she was in trouble.

The rest of the class had left for lunch, so it was just the two of them in the room. TJ approached the desk. “Yes, Miss Grumpaton?”

“Why did I not receive your book report this morning?”

“Oh, I, um, er . . . I’m still working on it.”

“Young lady, there are no late assignments in my class. You either hand the assignment in on time or you get a zero.”

TJ could feel the weight of the 20-page book report still in her backpack. (At least she hoped it was the book report and not a parrot.)

“Hey, JT?”

She turned to see Elizabeth, one of Hesper’s best friends since forever, standing at the door. “Are you coming to eat lunch with us or what?”

TJ glanced around the room to see who she was talking to. But since there was no one there but her, she turned back and asked, “Me? You want
me
to eat at your table?”

“Well, of course, silly.” Elizabeth flashed her every-tooth-in-place-thanks-to-a-$100,000-orthodontist-bill smile.

Needless to say, TJ was suspicious. (You’d have to have the IQ of a turtle not to be.) But before she could ask any more questions, Miss Grumpaton cleared her throat.

“Well?” the teacher asked.

TJ looked back at her and repeated, “I’m sorry; my report’s just not ready.”

“But you do have some of it, correct?”

“Well, yes, sure . . . sort of.”

Now, to be honest, that really wasn’t a lie. After all, she did have the pen she was going to write the report with, and she did have the paper she was going to write the report on, so technically she did have
part of the report
she was going to write with her.

“Since you’re new,” Miss Grumpaton said, “and since you made a complete ninny out of that Hesper Breakahart last week . . .” She lowered her voice and shook her head. “Honestly, I can’t stand that girl. Probably because she reminds me so much of myself one or two years ago.”

TJ nodded, thinking,
Now who’s not telling the truth?

Miss Grumpaton continued. “So, for this one time, I will allow you to hand in what you have completed and I will give you partial credit.”

The report in TJ’s backpack suddenly weighed even more.

“Well?” Miss Grumpaton said. “It’s either that or get an F.”

“Come on, BJ.” Elizabeth motioned. “Give it to her and let’s go.”

TJ hesitated. She knew handing in the report was cheating . . . but she also knew she wanted to pass the class.

“JB, come on.”

And sitting at Hesper and Elizabeth’s table meant sitting with (insert dreamy sigh here) Chad Steel.

“I’m waiting, young lady,” Miss Grumpaton said.

Finally, going against everything she knew was right (and now demonstrating the IQ of a turtle
in need of a brain transplant
), TJ slipped off her backpack, unzipped it, and pulled out the 20-page, single-spaced, typed book report.

“Wow!” Elizabeth said, stepping closer to look.

“You wrote this?” Miss Grumpaton asked.

TJ motioned toward her name at the top of the paper and gave another not-quite-the-truth answer.

“That’s my name right there.”

“My, oh, my,” Miss Grumpaton said, flipping through the pages. “This is quite a report.”

TJ swallowed nervously. Well, she tried to swallow nervously. But it’s hard to swallow any type of way when your mouth is as dry as hot desert sand cooked in the toaster and blown dry by a hair dryer . . . set on high.

TRANSLATION:
It was dry.

Miss Grumpaton looked at TJ and smiled (which got really confusing with her perma-frown tattoo). “Well done, my girl. Very well done. It appears I shall have some interesting reading this evening.” Then, with a wave of her fossilized hand, she dismissed TJ.

The two girls left the room. Already TJ could feel the weight of guilt about what she’d done. It was so great she barely heard Elizabeth as they headed down the hall.

“That’s incredible,” Elizabeth was saying. “A 20-page book report.”

“Yeah,” TJ mumbled.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, TD?”

TJ looked up. “Hm?” Then shaking her head, she answered, “No, not really.”

“Oh yeah,
really
. It’s like every time you do something, it’s weird and mysterious.”

TJ laughed nervously—the type of laugh that’s just a little too long and just a little too high . . . and just a little too suspicious.

Elizabeth lowered her voice. “You’re not like some witch or something, are you? I mean some of this stuff could be right out of a Hairy Potty book.”

“Me?” Another laugh, a little longer, a little higher, as they turned the corner and approached TJ’s locker. “I’m just your average, run-of-the-mill girl from Missouri.”

“Missouri? Is that like a state or something?”

TJ looked at her.

“I mean, it’s not like a code name for some alien spaceship, is it?”

“Trust me,” TJ said as they arrived at her locker and she dialed the combination, “there’s absolutely nothing special about me.” Without looking, she opened her locker door and slipped off her backpack.

“Oh, really?” Elizabeth said.

“Really. I’m just your average, all-American girl.”

“Who just happens to have a boy stuffed in her locker?”

TJ turned to her locker and gasped. Elizabeth was right. There was a boy inside! But not just any boy. This kid looked like he was wearing clothes right out of the 18th century.

“Who . . . who are you?” TJ stuttered.

“I’m Jim Hawkins,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “Cabin boy on the good ship
Hispaniola
.”

TJ blinked. Jim Hawkins was the cabin boy in
Treasure Island
! No way! It couldn’t be!

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find Long John Silver, would you?”

Without a word, TJ slammed the locker shut. She turned to Elizabeth and gave a nervous giggle.

Elizabeth shook her head. “Those clothes are sooo out of fashion.”

TJ nodded.

“So who is he?” Elizabeth asked.

“Uh, um, Jim. My cousin. He’s visiting.”

The boy began

from inside the locker.

“Miss? . . . Excuse me, miss?”

“Your cousin?” Elizabeth asked skeptically.

“Right. Cousin Jimmy. He wanted to check out my school.”

“Excuse me . . . miss?”

“So . . . ,” TJ said, trying to shout over the noise. “What say we grab some lunch? I’m starved.”

Without another word, she turned and quickly headed down the hall.

Fortunately, Elizabeth followed, staying glued to her side. Unfortunately, she still had a couple more questions to ask.

QUESTION #1:

“So if your cousin wants to see the school, how come he’s locked in your locker?”

TJ shrugged. “He’s just weird that way.”

Elizabeth nodded and got around to

QUESTION #2:

“So . . . does that make him a witch, too—or just a sorcerer?”

The only good thing about sitting at the cool kids’ table with Elizabeth and Hesper Breakahart was Chad Steel. It’s not that she liked Chad or anything. I mean, other than him being the hottest guy in school and one of the sweetest boys she’d ever met, she never gave him a second thought.

A first thought, yes. Every five or six seconds, you bet. But nothing more.

They were simply neighbors who occasionally spoke to each other (whenever she could remember how to speak in front of him) or gave nods when they passed each other in the hall (whenever she could remember how to walk in front of him).

Besides, he was already spoken for by Hesper Breakahart. And after the way TJ embarrassed Hesper last week, it was important that TJ do everything she could to stay on the superstar’s good side.

“So, um, er, new girl,” Hesper said as one of her best friends opened an unflavored yogurt carton for her. (Hesper hated getting her hands dirty, and we all know the chances of getting a speck of yogurt on you when you peel back those dreadful foil lids.) “I hear you’re really good at writing reports.”

“She’s better than good. She’s really,
really
good,” Elizabeth said as she opened her own unflavored yogurt . . . along with every other girl at the table. It wasn’t much of a lunch, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and Hesper definitely liked to be flattered.

TJ stole a look at Chad, pleased to see he was eating a triple-decker hamburger with everything on it.

Elizabeth continued. “She’s so good, it’s almost like she has magical powers.” She gave TJ a knowing look, like they had some secret between them. TJ glanced away, pretending not to notice.

Hesper turned to TJ and smiled her dazzling smile. “Maybe you could give me some pointers on writing a report sometime?”

TJ gave a shrug. “Sure.”

“Like tonight?”

TJ nearly choked on her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Tonight?”

“Yes, I’ve got a history report due, but I have this dreadful hangnail.” Hesper held out her hand. “See?”

The other girls moved in, taking a closer look,
ooh
-ing and
aah
-ing in sympathy.

With a quiver in her voice, Hesper continued. “And until it heals, I just don’t think I’ll be able to write a single word.”

“Ooh . . .”

“Aah . . .”

“In fact, you may have to write the entire report.”

TJ fumbled for her milk carton to wash down her sandwich.