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

much).
    Poor kid. He really felt sorry for her.
    It got even worse when she and her dad went outside and talked to the reporters. They must have figured explaining the truth would help. But who was interested in truth when a star stalker was stalking stars? (Say that ten times fast.)
    “So tell us, BJ,” the first reporter had asked.
    “That’s TJ,” her dad corrected.
    “Right, so tell us, JT, when did you first decide to attack Hesper Breakahart?”
    The new kid answered, “I didn’t decide to attack her.”
    “Oh, it just happened, like you couldn’t control yourself.”
    “No, it didn’t just happen.”
    “So how long were you planning it?”
    “Planning?” she asked.
    “To beat her up like that.”
    “I didn’t beat her up like that.”
    “Then how did you beat her up?”
    When it was clear nobody cared about the truth, her dad finally took her inside and closed the door. But the reporters didn’t go away. Soon they were swarming all over her yard.
    One even began digging in her lawn.
    “Hey, look what I found!” he shouted from beside the fence.
    Chad craned his neck to see the reporter holding a shovel in one hand and an extra-thick, triple-ply garbage bag in the other.
    “What’s in it?” someone yelled.
    The man opened it, gave a sniff, and nearly passed out. Coughing and gasping for breath, he shouted, “Whatever it is, it must be toxic! Hey, wait a minute.” He rummaged in the bag. “This is where she stores her weapons.”
    “You’re kidding!” another reporter shouted.
    “No. I’m counting two—make that three—of those burnt hockey pucks!”
    “Fantastic!”
    “Better call the bomb squad.”
    But the reporters weren’t just swarming over the new kid’s yard and digging through her trash. One reporter and his cameraman had actually crawled onto her roof and were sneaking around.
    That was it. Chad had seen enough. He rapped loudly on his window and shouted, “Hey . . . hey!”
    The reporter and his cameraman looked up, startled.
    Chad unlatched his window and opened it. “What do you think you’re doing?”
    “Shh,” the reporter whispered. He motioned toward the new kid’s bedroom window. “We’re going to get a shot of her planning her next attack.”
    “You can’t do that!”
    “Right,” the reporter said. “Watch me.”
    “Get down from there!” Chad demanded.
    But they ignored him. No way would they listen to some kid.
    Chad turned and started toward his door. They may not listen, but if he went out there and physically dragged them off the roof, they’d pay attention. Unfortunately, he’d barely stepped into his hallway before he heard a weird and oddly familiar

    He raced back to his bedroom window. The reporter and the cameraman had completely disappeared. The camera was still there. So was the microphone. But instead of two men . . .
    Chad closed his eyes and shook his head. When he reopened them, nothing had changed. Instead of two men, there were now two kangaroos hopping around on the roof. Two kangaroos who looked very frightened and very, very confused.

    The following day Tuna and Herby had to convince TJ to go back to school.
    “Everybody hates me,” she argued as she shuffled down the stairs to breakfast. (It was Violet’s turn to cook, which meant everything would be healthy . . . and impossible to eat.)
    “Not Doug and Naomi,” Tuna said. “They don’t hate you.”
    TJ gave him a look. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
    “It will,” Herby giggled.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    The boys exchanged knowing glances.
    “Oh yeah,” she said. “You’re from the future, so you can tell me what’s going to happen, right?”
    “Right, but wrong,” Herby said.
    “Can, but won’t,” Tuna agreed. “However, we may continue to remind you about the lesson you are currently learning.”
    “Lesson?” TJ asked.
    “Regarding how one should not show favoritism.”
    “Favoritism?”
    “Yeah, how you