Ho-Ho-NOOO! by Bill Myers

Author:Bill Myers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2013-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Another Day, Another Job

TIME TRAVEL LOG:

Malibu, California, December 21

Begin Transmission

Tuna and I agree: Santa suits are not our subject’s best look.

End Transmission

By the time TJ got to bed, she managed to squeeze in a whole 23½ seconds of sleep before her alarm went off for school. (It might have been 23¾ seconds, but how do you know how long you’ve slept if you’ve slept through it?)

Anyway, it was the last day of school before vacation, and things were a total blur.

First there was the minor problem of dressing herself. She didn’t notice until she was in the school hallway that she’d put her socks on inside out. Luckily, no one paid attention. They were too busy snickering at her jeans, which were also inside out. But none of that bothered TJ. It’s hard to be bothered by such details when you’re busy sleepwalking.

Not only did she sleepwalk, she also managed to sleep-read her way through Ms. Grumpaton’s English class and sleep-volleyball her way through Coach Steroidson’s PE class (not as easy as you might think). Unfortunately, she wasn’t so lucky when she sleep-flunked her way through Mr. Beaker’s science test. It was on the eating habits of aardvarks. (What’s up with Mr. Beaker and aardvarks, anyway?)

But none of that was as embarrassing as when Chad Steel (who was like a dream even when TJ wasn’t sleeping) approached her locker.

“Hey, uh, um, er . . .” Even though they were next-door neighbors, Chad had a hard time remembering her name. Which was okay because when she was around him, TJ couldn’t remember it either. He held up an iSlab he’d been typing on and asked, “Would you be interested in helping my church feed the homeless on Christmas Eve? We need to hire someone to deliver food from the restaurant. The pay won’t be much, about $25.”

“$25?” TJ croaked. From past experience, she knew it was risky to try to talk around Chad. (It’s not that she couldn’t talk; it’s just that she always ended up blurting out such brilliant things as “You’re gorgeous” or “I gotta go to the bathroom” or the ever-popular “I think I’m going to hurl!”) But she figured she was only dreaming anyway, so what did it matter?

“Yeah,” he said. “We were just going to pack sack meals and bring them over, but Hesper thought we should do more.”

“Because it’s Christmas?” TJ asked.

Chad glanced down, a little embarrassed. “No, because the newspeople will be there.”

TJ should have guessed. Just like people needed air, Hesper needed cameras.

“Sure,” TJ managed. She really wanted to shout, “Take me into your arms, you handsome hunk!” but figured, even for a dream, that might be pushing it.

“Great,” he said. “I’ll put you down for food delivery then.” Once again he looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry—what is your name?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” she said, drifting off into her semisleep mode.

He frowned. “I need to put something down.”

“TJ would be nice,” she mumbled.

He began to write. “TJ . . . and your last name?”

“Steel,” she sighed dreamily.

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