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

what do I do, he can’t see me like, er, hear me like this, shut it off, shut it—”
    “No problemo,” Herby whispered. “All I have to do is . . .” He clicked the pen and the blue beam immediately disappeared.
    The good news was they no longer heard TJ’s thoughts.
    The bad news was TJ no longer had any thoughts.

    “Sweetheart?”
    “Answer him,” Tuna whispered.
    TJ turned to him and said,
    “                                        .”
    She scowled and tried again.
    “                                                         !”
    “What’s her problem?” Herby asked.
    “I am uncertain,” Tuna answered. “She didn’t say.”
    “Or think,” Herby added.
    Both boys looked at each other and groaned, “Oh no . . .”
    “It has also shorted out,” Tuna sighed. “We can’t hear what she’s thinking because she’s not thinking.”
    TJ turned back to him and shouted,
    “                                           !”

    “Honey, can we talk?”
    The three looked at each other in a panic. (Well, the two boys looked at each other in a panic. TJ was looking at them in a                .)
    “Imitate her,” Tuna whispered to Herby.
    “What?”
    “As you did before!”
    “Oh, right.” Herby cleared his throat and gave another awful impersonation of TJ. “I’m okay, Poppsy.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes. I just need a little time to myself.”
    “Well, all right,” he said. “But I’m here if you need me.”
    “I know you are.”
    “And take care of that cold. It sounds like it’s getting worse.”
    “Okay, Poppsy. I love you.”
    “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
    Tuna raced to the door and pressed his ear against it until he heard Dad walking away.
    Meanwhile, Herby was busy clicking and reclicking the pen, while occasionally

    it against the desk, trying to fix it.
    All this as TJ stood around, frantically yelling,
    “                             !”
    Suddenly her cell phone rang.
    Without thinking (literally), TJ reached into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and answered,
    “                                   ?”
    “TJ?” an all-too-familiar voice asked.
    “                  ,” she replied.
    “TJ, It’s Naomi. Your best new friend.”
    “                          .”
    “It must be a bad connection; I can’t hear you. But if you can hear me, turn on the TV. Hesper Breakahart is on Eye Witless News, and you won’t believe what she’s saying.”
    TJ answered, “                      .”
    “Sorry. I’ll try later. Bye.” With that Naomi hung up.
    TJ turned to Herby, who was still busy

    the Acme Thought Broadcaster.
    She turned to Tuna, who had just pulled something the size of a postage stamp from his pocket. He started unfolding it until it was the size of a notebook. He continued unfolding until it was the size of a computer monitor.
    She looked on and would have wondered what he was doing (if her wonderer could wonder) as he continued unfolding it until it was the size of a giant TV (LCD of course). Without a word, he hung it on a nearby wall, clapped his hands twice, and the picture appeared.
    There, in all of her plucked-eyebrow, two-hours-of-makeup-and-wardrobe glory, sat Hesper Breakahart. Actually, she wasn’t sitting; she was lying in a hospital bed. Both legs were elevated, both arms were in casts, and most of her head was bandaged.
    “Yes,” she was sobbing, “this is the price one must pay for fame (and having such clear skin).”
    The camera zoomed in to a close-up as tears streamed down her face. “But tomorrow I will find the courage to return to school and face my attacker. There I will offer her the olive branch of forgiveness.”
    “Can you believe this?”