New Kid Catastrophes: 1 (TJ and the Time Stumblers) by Bill Myers

to the chairs as the two flies

    in panic
    And then, to top off all that stranger-than-strangeness with just a little more strangeness, the new kid leaped to her feet and shouted, “STOP IT! I TOLD YOU I DON’T WANT YOUR HELP!”
    Chad stood up and glanced around. As far as he could tell, there was nobody there. Well, nobody except for the rest of the class, who were all busy staring at her . . . which still didn’t stop her shouting:
    “TUNA! HERBY! TURN THEM BACK RIGHT NOW!”
    Chad shook his head sadly. He had no idea how to help her. Unless, after school, he swung by her house and encouraged her parents to increase her medication.

CHAPTER SEVEN
The Plot Sickens
    Time Travel Log:
    Malibu, California, October 11—supplemental
    Begin Transmission:
    Subject attempted to cut off communication. Fortunately her silence is no match for our way-cool diplomatic skills, and we reestablished dialogue. Plan to buy cookbook, as her cooking ability is majorly zworked .
    End Transmission
    It was TJ’s turn to fix dinner. And since they were out of microwave meals, she had to whip up something on her own. This would explain all the

    you heard around the table.
    It’s not that TJ was a lousy cook; she just had lots on her mind. So much that she might have overcooked the meal just a little.
    “Well now,” Dad said, trying to be positive, “this is quite the dinner. Who would have ever thought of having, um, er, uh . . . What exactly is this we’re having, dear?”
    “Charcoal dust?” little Dorie asked.
    “Fireplace ash?” Violet ventured.
    “Mashed potatoes,” TJ snapped.
    “Ah,” Dad said as he subtly slipped a handful under the table for Fido the Wonder Dog. But Fido the Wonder Dog, who will eat anything, was in the living room throwing up. (Apparently Violet had already slipped him a handful of her own “mashed potatoes”—which explained the charcoal dust all over her fingers.)
    “So, uh . . .” Dad glanced around, unsure what to do with his handful of dust. “How was everybody’s day?”
    “I got an A++ on my science test,” Violet said, brushing off her hands.
    “Hey, that’s great!” Dad said. “How do you get two pluses?”
    “By showing Mrs. Mindbender where she was wrong.”
    “And she gave you two pluses?” Dorie asked as she hid her charcoal dust under her hamburger patty, which looked more like a burnt hockey puck but didn’t taste as good.
    “Actually,” Violet said, “the other plus came from pointing out where the textbook was wrong.”
    “I see,” Dad said, finally slipping his mashed potato dust into his pants pocket. He turned to TJ and asked, “And tell me, how was your—”
    “Fine.”
    “I see. Did you—”
    “Fine!”
    “And—”
    “FINE!” She jumped to her feet. “Why are you always yelling at me?” She swiped at the tears running down her face. “Everything’s fine, all right? FINE, FINE, FINE!”
    With that, she spun around and ran up the stairs to her room.
    Dad looked on, realizing TJ was anything but fine. And as soon as he found a place to bury his dinner, nice and deep so Fido wouldn’t dig it up (he hated it when family pets died), he’d head upstairs and have a talk with her.
    “Violet,” he asked, “would you get a plastic garbage bag from the cupboard so we can properly ‘finish’ our dinner?”
    Violet flashed him a grin. “I’m on it.” She grabbed her dish and headed for the kitchen.
    “I’m right behind you,” little Dorie said, scampering after her.
    “And make sure it’s the triple-ply bags that don’t leak,” Dad called. “We need to be environmentally friendly.”

    When TJ threw open the door to her room, there were Tuna and Herby sitting on her desk in their shiny time-travel suits, just as perky as if nothing had ever happened.
    “Greetings, earthling.” Herby grinned, holding up his hand and spreading his fingers apart.
    Tuna explained, “He saw that in one of your old sci-fi movies.”
    TJ looked at them