AAAARGH!!! by Bill Myers

through her hair. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
    “Perhaps you should concentrate on telling Miss Grumpaton the truth, instead of attempting to cover it up,” Tuna suggested.
    “And get an F on the book report?” TJ snapped. “No way.”
    Tuna frowned. A moment of silence passed before he finally cleared his throat. “Hmm . . .”
    TJ tried to ignore him.
    He tried a little louder. “Hmm . . .”
    Again she ignored him.
    “HMM . . .”
    “All right!” She tossed her pencil on the desk. “What is it, Tuna?”
    “Oh, was I disturbing you?” he asked innocently.
    She arched an eyebrow.
    “It certainly wasn’t my intention.”
    She arched the other eyebrow. (When it comes to eyebrows, TJ is ambidextrous.)
    Finally Tuna spoke. “It seems rather odd—how cheating to eliminate extra work has only brought you more work. When, in reality, there would have been less work if you had hadn’t cheated.”
    “You mean if we hadn’t cheated,” she corrected. “Remember, you’re the ones who got me into this mess.”
    “That’s totally right, Your Dude-ness,” Herby agreed. “And we want to be the ones to get you out.”
    “Not this time,” she said returning to her work. Then, hesitating, she looked back to him. “Unless you want to help me write the essay.”
    “Really?” Herby chirped excitedly. “That would be so outloopish! We could transport some super genius here to your room, and—”
    “Ahem,” Tuna said, trying to get his attention.
    “—he could write something stupenderous, and, and—”
    “AHEM,” Tuna repeated.
    Herby glanced over to see Tuna shaking his head.
    Herby suddenly caught on and sighed, “And that would be cheating again, wouldn’t it?”
    Tuna nodded. “And cheating is bad because . . . ?” He waited for Herby to answer.
    Herby scrunched his face into a frown.
    Tuna repeated the question a little slower. “And cheating is bad because . . . ?”
    Herby’s face brightened. “Because it’s cheating!”
    Tuna dropped his head into his hands and slowly shook it.
    Suddenly there was a

    at the door, followed by Dorie’s squeaky little voice. “TJ?”
    “What is it, Squid?” TJ called.
    “When are we going to the beach?”
    “The beach?”
    “You said we were going swimming today, remember?”
    TJ’s heart sank. “I’m sorry, Dorie. But I’ve got way too much homework to do.”
    “But . . . you promised.”
    The disappointment in her sister’s voice made TJ feel even worse. “Yeah, I know I promised. Maybe later. Okay?”
    “Okay.” It was obvious Dorie was trying to sound hopeful. But it was also obvious she’d failed miserably. And then, just before she walked away, there was a faint scraping sound.
    TJ turned and saw a squished piece of pizza sliding under her door. “What’s that?” she called.
    “Pizza from last night,” Dorie said. “I snucked it home ’cause I knew you’d want some.”
    If TJ was feeling bad before, she was feeling downright miserable now.
    “I’ll see you later,” Dorie said.
    “Yeah,” TJ sighed. “Later.”
    With that, Dorie’s little footsteps turned and faded as they headed down the hall.
    TJ closed her eyes. But she had work to do. So she reopened them, ignored the heaviness in her chest, and returned to writing.

CHAPTER TEN
Ahoy, Ye Surfers!
    TIME TRAVEL LOG:
    Malibu, California, October 23
    Begin Transmission:
    Sometimes even major babes must learn the hard way.
    End Transmission
    The surf meet was quite a production. Chad guessed there were over a thousand people scattered up and down the beach—along with food vendors, T-shirt sellers, volleyball players, and a local TV crew, which of course meant Hesper Breakahart and her posse were there, pretending to cheer Chad on (while making sure they were always in front of the cameras).
    The surfboard had performed flawlessly—no problems, no surprises, no nuclear holocausts. Chad had made it through all the qualifying rounds and now he was about to begin the