yelling, “Dorie! Dorie!”
Meanwhile, Tuna and Herby both knew they had to get rid of Long John Silver for good. Unfortunately they had separate plans. Unfortunatelier (another word to hide from Miss Grumpaton), they put their plans into action at exactly the same time.
Tuna pulled out the Swiss Army Time Freezer Blade (sold at 23rd-century time-travel stores everywhere) and fired it
at the pirate, the same instant Herby pulled out his 3D Calculator, entered the calculations, and tried to
subtract Long John Silver to 0.
But as usual, the equipment
So instead of being subtracted to 0, Long John Silver was multiplied to 1,304.
“Argh!” 1,304 Long John Silvers argh- ed.
“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” 1,304 parrots screamed.
And remember the Time Freezer? Well, not being the best aim, Tuna missed Long John Silver and the beam bounced off his pistol (which had turned to 1,304 pistols), reflecting the beam 1,304 different directions.
No problem, except the Time Freezer was also shorting out. So, instead of freezing time, the beam froze the weather! (Don’t you just hate it when that happens?) Suddenly . . .
—the temperature dropped to -10 degrees
—the gentle ocean breeze turned into a snowy blizzard
—Hesper and all her friends turned blue and were covered in gross goose bumps . . . which meant running from the TV crew screaming, “Don’t let the cameras see us! Don’t let the cameras see us!”
Meanwhile, Chad had just caught the perfect wave and began working it for the perfect score . . . until he spotted the new kid swimming out from the beach. He tried ignoring her—after all, he was in the middle of winning the finals. But then he heard her shouting.
“Dorie . . . Dorie!”
He looked to where she was swimming and spotted her little sister doing a terrible imitation of not drowning. Again, he tried to focus on the competition. He’d worked too long and hard to be distracted.
“TJ!” the little girl screamed.
He threw another look in her direction.
Doug’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “What are you doing? Focus, Chad! Focus!”
“TJ, help me!”
“If you quit now, you’ll lose!”
“HELP ME!” The little sister began coughing and choking. “HELP ME!”
That was it. Chad made his decision. He pulled out of the wave, dropped to his knees, and began paddling toward the two of them.
Back on the beach, Herby, who still had this strange belief that he could actually help, tried the calculator again and suddenly there were
1,304 volleyballs blowing in the blizzard and slamming everyone in the head.
Well, not everyone; mostly blue, goose-bumpy girls in dental floss swimsuits who kept running around in the wind screaming, “Don’t let the cameras see us! Don’t—
let the—”
Tuna yelled over the noise, “The Morph Blade! The calculator’s not working! I’ll try the Morph Blade!”
“Stupenderous idea!” Herby shouted.
Unfortunately, the knife was doing its usual shorting-out routine, which would explain why all the surfboards became
mini pirate ships.
(If it matters, we’re at about 9.9 on the Weirdness Scale.)
Meanwhile, back in the ocean, TJ was exhausted. Her arms and legs were giving out. Dorie had managed to grab one of the stray volleyballs floating past, and it helped a little. It would have helped a lot if it didn’t have a giant hole pecked into it by one of the 1,304 parrots. She was only 50 feet ahead of TJ, but it could have just as easily been 50 miles.
How could I have been so stupid? TJ thought. I promised to take Dorie swimming over and over again, but I never had time because of—
“Help me! TJ, HELP ME!” Dorie choked.
And now she’s going to drown. Now we’re both going to drown . . . all because of my stupid, stupid cheating!
“TJ!”
“Hang on!” she coughed. “HANG ON!”
But it did no good. TJ had nothing left. Her arms and legs finally quit working. It was over. It was all over, and it was all her