Ho-Ho-NOOO! (14 page)

“No need to worry,” Tuna said, as he returned to jamming his two pieces together . . . until they exploded into a dozen more, smaller pieces. “We will have this repaired in no time.” Giving up, he tossed the pieces over his shoulder to a growing discard pile and reached for a couple more.

“That’s right, no prob,” Herby said as he successfully removed his fingers from his taped pieces . . . only to discover he’d now taped his foot to them.

“So where did everybody go?” TJ asked. “Where are Dad and Violet and Dorie?”

“Violet was majorly bummed about the TV,” Herby said.

Tuna added, “And Dorie was rather distraught about the destruction of the Christmas tree.”

“So?”

“So with neither a tree nor presents, your father thought he’d cheer them up by taking them to church. Apparently they were holding some sort of dinner there. You’ll find a note on the table.”

TJ dragged her exhausted body across the room to the table. “This is the worst Christmas ever,” she grumbled. “It’ll probably take another hour to get there and I’m so tired I can barely—”

Before she finished her sentence, she heard a clear and distinct

which, as everyone knows, is the sound made when you are transported across town by a 23rd-century Transporter Beam shooting from a 23rd-century Swiss Army Knife.

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, December 24—supplemental of supplemental of . . .

Begin Transmission

Thanks to our brilliant brilliance, ingenious genius, and humbling humility, our subject has learned her lesson. This time.

End Transmission

“TJ!”

She spun around to see little Dorie running at her full speed.

“No, Squid, don’t. I’m too tired to catch—

you.”

As Dorie landed in her arms, the two

backward until they landed in someone else’s arms.

“Whoa, you okay?”

TJ turned to see that she was being held by (insert dreamy sigh here) Chad Steel. He wore an apron and stood behind a long table, where he was serving mashed potatoes and gravy.

“Yikes,” she sorta screamed as she scrambled out of his arms. She would have stayed there forever, but there was something about a church full of people staring at her that made it feel a bit awkward. Then there was the minor detail of her father standing directly beside them.

“Daddy?!” This time she really did scream.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He grinned. He was wearing his own apron and holding a serving spoon. “I didn’t see you come in.”

“Oh,” she squeaked as her eyes shot back and forth between Dad and Chad like she was watching a tennis match. “I just sort of, you know,
popped
in.”

Dad nodded and motioned to Chad. “I see you’ve met our next-door neighbor.”

“Hey.” Chad smiled.

TJ felt her face growing hot.

Chad motioned to the crowd of people. Some were still in line. Others sat or stood in small groups, eating, talking, and seeming to have a great time. Most were the street people who had come over from Hesper’s Christmas catastrophe, though there were plenty of church folks, too. “Thanks for sending them our way,” Chad said.

TJ peered out over the crowd and nodded.

“Did you see our Christmas tree?” little Dorie asked. She pointed across the room, where a handful of people were decorating a tree and chattering away.

“TJ,” Dad asked, “are you okay? You look really tired.”

“It’s been a long day,” TJ sighed.

“So I heard.”

“From who?”

“Chad here, for one. He says you’ve really been putting in the hours.”

She threw a look at Chad, feeling her face burn all the hotter.

“Actually, he’s been saying a lot of good things about you.” With a twinkle, he added, “He’s quite the fan. Isn’t that right, Chad?”

Chad smiled good-naturedly. If TJ’s face was burning before, it was time to call the fire department now. She eyed her father, who was grinning warmly. Then she blurted out, “Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry.”

His grin faded and he looked puzzled. “For what?”

She felt her throat tighten. “I wanted so much for you to have a great Christmas. I mean, with Mom gone and all, I just wanted . . .” And then, before she could stop them, the tears came. Tears of exhaustion, of frustration, of disappointment. “I worked so hard so I could give you some money, you know, to help with the bills and everything.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out the ragged $5 bill. “And now all I’ve got is . . . all I can give you is . . .” The tears came faster, and she couldn’t continue.

“Oh, sweetheart . . .”

She gave her eyes a swipe, but it did no good.

She knew Chad was watching, but she couldn’t stop. “And Vi . . .” She gulped a breath. “I saw what happened to the TV she bought you. I wanted to give you a better present than hers, but now . . . now you’ve got . . . you’ve got . . .” The tears turned into sobs. Talk about embarrassing.

“Oh, TJ.”

Try as she might, it was impossible to catch her breath. The week had been too long, the defeats too overwhelming. Before she knew it, her father was wrapping those big arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” she choked. “Everything went all wrong.”

“What are you talking about? Nothing went wrong.”

“You were supposed to have the greatest Christmas ever. And now . . . and . . .”

“TJ . . . look at me.”

She raised her eyes and saw his face wavering through her tears.

“I
am
having a great Christmas.”

“But—”

“Look around you.”

She glanced about the room—at the groups of people eating, talking, laughing. Even Violet seemed to be enjoying herself, chattering with a bunch of geeks who were no doubt creating a plan for world peace.

“
This
is what Christmas is about.”

“But . . . you didn’t get any gifts.”

He motioned to the crowd. “What do you call this? Look at their faces, TJ. Look at the joy we get to be a part of.”

Once again she scanned the room. It was true: everyone was having a good time—the homeless, the church members. Even Number One and the skin-and-bones kid who saved her sister. They were talking. Actually, more than talking—they were holding hands! (Though Number One was careful to keep a napkin between them.)

And Dorie? She’d found a new friend in Number Thuree. Not that Number Thuree talked that much, but it didn’t stop Dorie. The little thing could do enough talking for both of them. Actually, she could do enough talking for the entire room.

“
This
is Christmas, sweetheart,” Dad said. As he spoke, someone near the tree started to sing a carol.

“Hark! the herald angels sing,

‘Glory to the newborn King.’”

Dad continued. “I know you miss Mom. I miss her too. But we have to go on.” He gave TJ a little hug.

“And isn’t this how Christmas should be celebrated? Being with the ones you love . . . and loving your friends and neighbors as God loves them?”

The song grew louder as more people joined in.

“‘Peace on earth, and mercy mild,

God and sinners reconciled!’”

TJ gave her eyes another swipe and glanced down.

Finally she began to nod. He was right. It had taken her a while to see it and she’d definitely learned the hard way, but he was right. Spotting the money in her hand, she raised it halfheartedly. “And what about this?”

Dad smiled. He glanced around the room until he spotted a small box at the end of the table. Someone was dropping something inside it. When he stepped back, TJ saw the word
Donations
.

She frowned, then looked at Dad. He gave her a wink, his smile growing bigger.

And she had her answer.

Without a word, TJ slipped from his arms, walked to the box, and dropped in the last of her hard-earned money. As she did, the song grew even louder.

“Joyful, all ye nations, rise,

Join the triumph of the skies.”

She returned to her father, who had started to sing along. Snuggling into the warmth of his arms, she also joined in.

“With angelic hosts proclaim,

‘Christ is born in Bethlehem!’”

Across the room, invisible to everyone but TJ and still covered in cellophane tape, she spotted Tuna and Herby. They floated near the tree and were singing at the top of their lungs . . . completely off-key.

“Hark! the herald angels sing,”

They spotted her and grinned.

She grinned back, trying not to wince at their voices.

The boys gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed the words
Merry Christmas.

She nodded, smiled, and returned the greeting.
Merry Christmas.

Because it
was
a merry Christmas. Here, as she shared the love of her family, of her friends, and of people she didn’t even know. Here, as everyone shared in God’s love. Despite the problems, the mix-ups, and the mess-ups, it was quickly becoming one of TJ Finkelstein’s merriest Christmases ever.

“‘Glory to the newborn King!’”

Would you like Bill Myers

(author of TJ and the Time Stumblers series)

to visit your school?

Send him an e-mail:

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