“So?”
“Girls like to shop.”
“That’s sort of offensive,” Ruby grumbled. “And not true! Not every girl in the world likes to shop.”
“Not every girl. But those two? Absolutely. Ms. Holiday never wore a cardigan twice, and from what I’ve read, Tessa has a thing for high-end fashion,” Heathcliff said.
“You’ve read that Tessa Lipton likes fashion? Where?”
“In People magazine.”
“When do you read People magazine?”
“I’ve been locked up without much to do for three months. I’d read Ladies’ Home Journal if you gave me a copy. There are a few other things we can add to the search, too,” Heathcliff continued as he jammed the joystick back and forth. “Why just video? We can add newspapers, magazines, and social media sites. Our targets could appear in the background of someone else’s photos and this ‘state-of-the-art’ program wouldn’t catch it.”
“I think you’re going a bit overboard,” Ruby said, nudging the boy aside. He could tell he was making her uncomfortable. She still didn’t trust him.
Suddenly, there was an alert and an image appeared on the screen.
“We’ve got a hit!” Ruby said.
It was a black-and-white newspaper photograph of a car crash on a street across town. In the background, they could see Ms. Holiday in her mask, along with Tessa and the rest of the kids who had attacked them the day before.
“They caused some kind of accident,” Heathcliff said. “But wait—this can’t be right. This newspaper article is decades old.”
Ruby glanced at the newspaper’s masthead. It was published August 16, 1987—more than twenty-five years ago.
“I don’t understand. The hard drive should have no problems with this,” Heathcliff said defensively.
“Well, whatever you did is making it screwy,” Ruby said. “Is this one of your schemes?”
“Schemes?” Heathcliff said.
Ruby eyed him closely. “Never mind,” she said as she jumped up from her chair. “I need something to eat.”
Heathcliff’s heart sank. So much for being a member of the team.
If it weren’t for Loudmouth, the BULLIES’ trip through time would have been cut very short and had an extremely painful ending. When they were jerked out of the time stream, they found themselves in the middle of the street with a bus barreling down on them. Tammy huffed and puffed, ranting about boys not liking girls with glasses and overdue library books. Her voice slammed into the bus, bringing it to a violent stop.
But the BULLIES were not out of danger yet. A car careened out of the bus lane and headed straight at them. Snot Rocket fired an explosive booger at the ground, which created a pothole. The car drove into it headfirst.
A siren wailed and a police car arrived on the scene. A chubby officer got out, his eyes wide and his mouth in a surprised O.
Thor slammed his fists on the hood of the cop car and it folded in half like a taco. The cop drew his weapon, but Funk was already sending a cloud of noxious green air at him. Overcome by the stench, the policeman dropped to his knees.
Miss Information smiled. “Welcome to 1987, where there is no Wi-Fi, iPods, Facebook, or texting. Most people still buy music at a record store.”
“What’s a record store?” Tammy said.
Miss Information shook her head and pressed a button on the time machine. She watched it collapse and morph into a box she could fit into the palm of her hand. “What a nice feature!”
Benjy floated above her head. “Many of my functions are inoperable, including telecommunications. The satellites needed don’t seem to exist.”
“But you still have our list of targets, correct?” she asked.
“I do,” Benjy said. “In fact, the first one was on that bus.”
Miss Information turned her attention to the shaken passengers, who now stood in groups on the side of the road. She spotted a tall, lean elderly man with brown skin and a bristly white mustache. He was rubbing his neck as if he had whiplash.
“Mr. Escala!” she cried, rushing across the street. “Mr. Escala!”
Surprised, the man took a step back. His face was full of fear. “How do you know me?”
“Oh, I don’t know you, Mr. Escala, but I’ve been having a big problem with one of your relatives. Thinking about moving to the United States?”
“My son talks about it,” Mr. Escala said. “Who are you? Are you responsible for this accident?”
“Allow us to roll out the welcome wagon,” Miss Information said.
Thor picked up a taxicab and threw it down the street. It bounced around like a bowling ball, slamming into a fire hydrant. A geyser of water shot into the air, drenching the crowd.
Mr. Escala’s eyes were full of terror.
“The United States is no place for your family,” Miss Information said. “This is a lawless country filled with maniacs. You should go to the airport now and get on the first plane home.”
Petrified, Mr. Escala ran away.
Ms. Holiday watched him go. “Do you think that will work, Benjy?” she said.
The little orb spun around and clicked. “There is a ninety percent statistical chance that it succeeded. However, the only way to test for accuracy is to go back to our present and see for ourselves.”
“No time, Benjy. Who’s next?”
“There’s a Mr. Dewey working as a mechanic in the year 1995,” Benjy said. “Records indicate he’s the future father of Duncan Dewey. According to his Facebook page, it appears September first is the day he met Duncan’s mother, Aiah.”
“Very good,” Miss Information said. “Let’s go say hello to the happy couple and make sure they become very unhappy.”
She set the little box on the ground and it regained its form as the time machine. Moments later, she and the children were spinning their way toward 1995.
Ruby slept on a Skee-Ball ramp and woke with a laundry list of aching muscles. Unfortunately, her stiff neck and back were nothing compared to the pain in her face, which had swollen to the size of a party balloon. She was clearly having an allergic reaction, one of her most severe, but for the life of her she could not figure out what kind.
She took two allergy tablets, then searched the pizza parlor for her teammates. She found them with the principal in one of the booths, peering at a large pepperoni pizza. It appeared to be ice-cold.
“There’s nothing to eat but pizza, in case you were wondering,” Matilda said.
“Cold, ugly, disgusting pizza,” Duncan said.
“I’m glad you’re awake. We have news,” the principal said. “Heathcliff, you’re on.”
Heathcliff beamed. “Last night, at around eleven P.M., a NASA satellite detected a massive energy spike on our local power grid. Oddly enough, it happened at a school, the Margreet Zelle Detention Center for the Incorrigible. But there’s something that makes this even more interesting. The National Weather Service satellite helped me track down the exhaust fumes of Miss Information’s flying bus. Guess where the trail ends?”
“The Margreet Zelle Detention Center for the Incorrigible,” Ruby guessed.
“And there’s more!” Heathcliff said, sinking a token into a nearby arcade game. A moment later, images of Loudmouth, Thor, Funk, and Snot Rocket appeared on-screen. “Guess where these four freaks go to school.”
“You found her!” Jackson cried.
“We found her,” Heathcliff said. “Miss Information’s secret hideout is less than six miles away.”