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       Time Warp Trio: Lewis and Clark...and Jodie, Freddi, and Samantha, p.1

           Jon Scieszka
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Time Warp Trio: Lewis and Clark...and Jodie, Freddi, and Samantha

  Time Warp Trio

  Lewis and Clark…and Jodie, Freddi, and Samantha

  Time Warp Trio created by

  Jon Scieszka

  Adapted by

  Jennifer Frantz

  Based on the television script by

  Gentry Menzel


  Chapter 1

  “Great. Just great,” I said, pulling a twig from my…

  Chapter 2

  Okay. So you may be wondering how we got into…

  Chapter 3

  So that’s how we got to the Rocky Mountains in…

  Chapter 4

  The not-crazed-mountain-man, named York, led us into a busy camp.

  Chapter 5

  Before we could even stop to rest, the entire camp…

  Chapter 6

  After several hours, we stumbled into camp. Literally. My feet…

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, I awoke to the sounds of Samantha…

  Chapter 8

  “Hey guys, look what I got,” I said proudly, showing…

  Chapter 9

  In a flash, Sacagawea was racing to our rescue. She…

  Chapter 10

  I’m not complaining, I’m not complaining, I thought with each…

  Chapter 11

  Freddi jumped into action. She grabbed the pot lid that…

  Chapter 12

  We rematerialized in the forest. Only this time, it was…


  About the Publisher


  “Great. Just great,” I said, pulling a twig from my hair. “I told you to stop messing with The Book.”

  “You definitely didn’t, Jodie,” Samantha said. “You told me to stop getting marshmallow all over it.”

  Leave it to Samantha to get specific at a time like this. Thanks to her sticky, marshmallowy fingers we were now stuck in a shrub in Rocky Mountain–nowhere, three hundred years back in time.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “You’re right. Next time I say that, what I really mean is—STOP MESSING WITH THE BOOK.” After landing in a bush, my hair was totally dreadful, and so was my mood.

  “Fine,” Samantha said. “I’ll never touch The Book again, and you can’t touch my cat.”

  “That’s a promise,” I said. Did she really think I cared about her silly metal cyberpet? We’re talking about a tin cat that ate thumbtacks.

  Samantha was about to say something back, when Freddi interrupted. “Uh, guys,” she said. “Could you look at this?”

  Freddi seemed worried—as usual. She motioned Samantha and me toward a clearing in the brush.

  “Hey, it’s The Book!” Samantha cried.

  “And my backpack,” I said, spying the pink mound a few feet away.

  “Yeah,” Freddi said. “And also…a bear!”

  “AAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH!” Samantha and I screamed.

  There it was—a giant grizzly bear—smack-dab in the middle of the clearing. It was rooting around near my backpack and…The Book!

  Samantha, Freddi, and I dove back to our bush and hid in the spindly branches.

  “Don’t move. Don’t even breathe,” I whispered.

  We had to find a way to grab The Book and get back home—and becoming a bear buffet was definitely not part of the plan.

  The grizzly was sniffing around my backpack. He must have smelled something tasty inside. I just hoped he wasn’t going to get his nasty bear-slobber all over everything.

  Meanwhile, Freddi pointed out a bigger problem. The bear was lowering his big furry bottom toward the sticky marshmallow-covered book.

  “Don’t sit on The Book. Don’t sit on The Book,” Freddi whispered.

  Just our luck…the bear sat on The Book. And thanks to the marshmallow goo all over the cover, it immediately stuck to his fur.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “Who wants to ask that nice bear to move his butt? Samantha?”

  Samantha did get us into this mess after all. But apparently she was too busy getting a case of the hiccups.

  “Hic,” she blurted loudly. The bear turned his huge, mean face in our direction. I guess even grizzly bears know that bushes don’t get the hiccups.

  “Shhhhhhhh,” Freddi and I whispered.

  “I can’t just…hic…” Samantha tried to talk between the hiccups. “I need to…hic…drink some water…hic…or stand on my head…hic…or get really, really scared.”

  Suddenly, the bear poked his head—sharp teeth and all—through the bush and let out a huge ROOOOOOOAAAAAR that shook the branches.

  “AAAAAAAGHHH!” we all screamed at once.

  We scrambled out of the bush and ducked behind a nearby boulder. Freddi and I tried to catch our our breath.

  “Hey! It worked,” Samantha said. “My hiccups are gone.”

  “Well, that’s just super,” I said. Peering around the edge of the boulder, I saw the bear rooting around my backpack again. The Book was still stuck to his bottom.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s not panic. Bears are pretty dumb, right? It’s not like we’re facing a crazed mountain man or anything.”

  Suddenly, Samantha, Freddi, and I heard a twig snap behind us.

  “Don’t move,” a voice commanded.

  We turned and saw a man in old-fashioned mountaineer clothing. He held a huge rifle…that was pointed at us!

  “Hic,” Samantha blurted.

  But something told me Samantha’s hiccups were the least of our worries.


  Okay. So you may be wondering how we got into such a colossal mess. It’s simple—marshmallows.

  See, Samantha, Freddi, and I were all camping. But in the year 2105, you’d call it cybercamping, since we weren’t really outside or anything messy like that. We’d dialed up a beachy scene with a bonfire and had begun roasting marshmallows.

  “Umm, mmm,” Samantha said. “There’s nothing better than a toasted marshmallow.”

  I’m not sure if she had actually tasted it, or if she was just wearing it. She was covered from head to toe in white sticky mush.

  I looked down at my own marshmallow. “I think there’s sand in mine,” I said. “And the salt air is totally squenching my hair.”

  Our beach backdrop was starting to feel a bit too “natural” for my taste. “Let’s see,” I said, reaching for the control panel. “Camping Options…Seaside…Woods…Backyard…Desert.” I selected Woods, which sounded much less gritty and damp than our current beach setting.

  In a flash, the beach landscape melted away. We were now surrounded by green grass, tall trees, and the sound of owls hooting.

  “Ah…much better,” I said. “This Camp-Master 3000 Omni-Projection System is so chair. I just love how…”

  But suddenly, my lovely mellow thought was interrupted by the sound of a cat—peeing.

  I glared at Samantha. “That better not be your cat.”

  “Bad kitty,” Samantha pretend-scolded. “I told you not to pee on Jodie’s grass.”

  Leave it to Samantha’s cat to totally ruin a nice moment.

  At least Freddi didn’t seem to mind. She was staring up at the sky with a dreamy look. “You know,” she said, “in the olden days, people used to sleep in bags in the woods.”

  “Sleep outside?” I asked. “On purpose?” Was that supposed to be fun, or some sort of punishment?

  “I bet it was really magical, camping out under the stars,” Freddi said.

  Samantha and I both burst into laughter at the thought of fraidy-cat-Freddi sleeping outside.

  “Freddi, you would hate that,” Samantha said.
“You’d be scared to death.”

  “Is that an ant?” I teased in my best Freddi voice. “Get it off! Get it OFF!”

  “I’m not that bad,” Freddi said. “And it’s spiders I don’t like…. And moths…and worms…and…”

  “Hey,” Samantha said. “I have an idea. Let’s try it. Let’s go camping for real.”

  Before Freddi or I could say anything, Samantha grabbed The Book from my backpack. Now this was not just any book. I had inherited it from my great grandfather, Joe, who lived in the twenty-first century. It could take you to any place and time. While that sounds really cool, there was one problem: Whenever we traveled back in time, The Book had a habit of disappearing. And without it, there was no way to get back home.

  Samantha opened up The Book to the Where/When Web page and began poking the keys with her sticky fingers.

  “Be careful,” I said. “You’re getting marshmallow all over The Book.”

  “Sorry,” Samantha said, licking her hand. “Okay. Let’s search for ‘camping’ and ‘girls’ and ‘woods,’ and see what we get.”

  Samantha hit the enter key, and results were up on the screen in a flash.

  “Here we go,” she cried. “Corps of Discovery, 1805, Rocky Mountains. I wonder what that is?”

  “Camping in 1805?” I said. “I don’t think so.” Let’s be honest, I could barely handle camping in 2105—in my own bedroom.

  Samantha tried to move the cursor down the page to check out our other options, but her gooey fingers got stuck. A big string of marshmallow stretched from Samantha’s hand to The Book.

  “Where did this come from?” Samantha said. She began to pull harder and harder. The marshmallow string snapped like a rubber band…and hit The Book with a loud bing!

  “Oh, no,” Freddi said. “You hit enter!”

  The familiar green mist began to spew from The Book. I yanked it from Samantha and tried pounding the cancel key as quickly as I could.

  “Cancel, cancel, cancel!” I yelled.

  But it was too late. The green mist was taking us camping—for real.


  So that’s how we got to the Rocky Mountains in 1805, where we’d already been chased by a bear, and were now staring down the rifle of a crazed mountain man. See? I told you. Marshmallows can be very dangerous.

  Freddi, Samantha, and I stood frozen in place behind the boulder.

  “I’ve got you now,” the mountain man bellowed. I held my breath. This was it. He raised his rifle and took aim—at the bear!

  The shot missed the grizzly by inches. But it scared him enough to drop my backpack and run off.

  “Dang. Missed him,” the man said.

  “Oh, no,” Freddi said. “The bear’s taking The Book.”

  She was right. The Book was still stuck to the bear’s behind, and now he was getting away.

  “Hey, bear,” I yelled. “Give that back!”

  I took off after the bear, determined to get The Book. Soon I was just a few feet away from him. If only I could reach just a little bit farther I could grab—

  “AAAHHHHHH!” I screamed. The bear had spun around. He showed his huge teeth and swiped at me with razor-sharp claws.

  I jumped behind Samantha. The grizzly let out a final growl and lumbered off into the woods.

  The mountain man looked at us, confused. “You girls must really like to read,” he said.

  “No,” Freddi tried to explain. “It’s just a very special book.”

  “Well, don’t worry,” the man said. “He’ll be back. That bear’s been doggin’ us for days, trying to get our food.”

  Then he hoisted his rifle to his shoulder and began to walk off. Freddi, Samantha, and I just stood there.

  “Now what?” Freddi asked.

  “Well, we have to get The Book back,” Samantha said. “Otherwise we’re stuck here for, um…let’s see…forever.”

  Freddi looked worried.

  I could see it was time for action. “Well, I say we follow that man and hope the bear gets hungry real soon.”

  I grabbed my backpack—which was luckily free of bear slobber—and Samantha, Freddi, and I hiked off into the woods toward certain doom.


  The not-crazed-mountain-man, named York, led us into a busy camp. Men were rushing this way and that, taking down tents and packing supplies onto horses.

  A rugged-looking man wearing a fringed animal-skin coat was sitting on a rock. He was sketching a grizzly bear, just like the one we’d seen. The man kept drawing as we walked toward him.

  “Get that bear, York?” he asked, without looking up.

  “No, I’m sorry, Mr. Lewis,” York said. “I missed him again.”

  “Dang,” the man said.

  Finally, the man gazed up from his drawing. He seemed surprised to see three girls in his camp. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Jodie,” I said. “This is Samantha and Freddi. We were out walking, and we…got lost.” I hoped it sounded believable.

  The man scratched his head. “Well, it’s an odd place to be walking, but welcome to the Corps of Discovery. I’m Meriwether Lewis and that gentleman over there is Mr. William Clark,” he said, pointing to a man with a large mustache.

  “No way,” Samantha gasped. “The Lewis and Clark? The famous explorers?”

  “Famous?” Mr. Lewis snorted. “We’ll be dead explorers if we don’t get over this mountain by tomorrow.”

  “Why? What’s the hurry?” Samantha asked.

  “The hurry is that it’s late September,” Mr. Lewis said. “Once the snows start, we’ll freeze to death. Or starve. Or both.”

  York heaved Mr. Lewis’s pack onto his shoulder. “It’s a good thing you gals showed up when you did,” York said. “We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

  Freeze…starve…help? Were these people serious? I looked at Samantha and Freddi. Suddenly sandy marshmallows were looking like…well…a day at the beach.


  Before we could even stop to rest, the entire camp was on the move—including Samantha, Freddi, and me. We quickly found ourselves trudging up a steep mountain path. Gigantic heavy packs, which were neither cute nor pink, were strapped to our backs.

  With each painful step, I was getting more annoyed with Samantha and her stupid sticky fingers. Finally I exploded. “But noooooo…You couldn’t bring us to the successful, we’re-almost-there Lewis and Clark. You bring us to the near-death Lewis and Clark.”

  “Look,” Samantha said. “As soon as we get The Book, we can go home. Plus…we are camping!”

  This was no time to start looking on the bright side. “We’re pack animals,” I said. “Pack animals who are ruining our—oof—” At that moment, I tripped over a pesky rock. “Shoes.”

  I looked down. It was true—my favorite pair of very cute, very pink shoes were covered in scuffs and mud.

  Suddenly, a Native American girl appeared. She must have been about seventeen years old. She glanced down at my shoes. “Those are beautiful biga-nambe,” she said. “But they cannot be good for mountain walking.”

  I looked over at her shoes. She was wearing a pair of thick brown moccasins. I guess that’s what she considered a sensible pair of biga-nambe.

  The girl was lugging a pack even bigger than ours. She was clearly one tough chick.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I am Sacagawea,” she said.

  Freddi’s face lit up. “I know who you are,” she said. “You’re Lewis and Clark’s translator.”

  “Actually,” Sacagawea said, “my husband is the translator. I assist him. But how could you have heard of me?”

  “I did a report on you in American history cla—” Freddi started to say, when I elbowed her in the ribs.

  “What she meant to say,” I interrupted, “is ‘Hi, my name is Freddi, and this is Jodie, and that’s Samantha.’”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” Sacagawea replied.

we heard a baby fussing. Sacagawea turned around. Slung across her back in a cloth sling was a tiny baby.

  “Oh,” Sacagawea said. “This is Jean-Baptiste, my son. But we call him Little Pomp.”

  “You’re camping…with a baby?” I said. “A baby who cries and poops and stuff?”

  “Yes,” Sacagawea replied. “But Pomp rarely cries. Mostly he’s happy.”

  Sacagawea started walking to catch up with the group. Freddi, Samantha, and I followed.

  “I’m glad you have joined us,” Sacagawea said. “It will be nice to talk to girls for a change.”

  Even though she was a hard-core mountaineering mama, Sacagawea was still a girl after all. Except for our taste in shoes, we weren’t so different….

  “I know what you mean,” I told her. “Guys never get what’s important. Like when you have a total hair emergency.” I pulled some more bush debris out of my tragic hair.

  “Oh,” Sacagawea responded. “I was hoping we might talk about hunting, or cooking, or caring for a baby….”

  Okay, so maybe we were so different….

  “Sometimes,” she added, “I feel a little lonely, even though there are many people here.”

  “I feel the same way,” Freddi said. “How did you end up on this trip anyway?”

  “I am Shoshone,” Sacagawea said. “When I was twelve, I was kidnapped by another tribe and taken far away. They sold me to the man who is now my husband. Later we met Mr. Lewis and Mr. Clark, and they chose my husband and me to be their translators.”

  “You were stolen from your family?” Freddi gasped. “That’s horrible.”

  Sacagawea looked sad for a moment, then smiled. “Jean-Baptiste is my family now. I could ask for no more.”

  We all gazed as Sacagawea adjusted the tiny bundle in the drooping cloth sling. “Except,” she said, “for a better way to carry him.”

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