Slamdown Town

by Maxwell Nicoll

  Hollis hadn’t planned on washing Big Chew’s signature from his forehead, but when he remembered he had to go to school on Monday and face his eighth-grade friends, he’d spent all Sunday night trying to wash it off. He was mildly successful, but instead of getting everything off, he just looked like he had black splotches all over his forehead.

  So that day, he’d gone to school wearing a hat. Ollie had overheard Hollis telling his friends that he was cold (even though it was, like, superhot outside), but Ollie knew the real reason. He didn’t want them to know that he actually liked wrestling.

  The video of the match ended. Hollis stretched his arms. He pounded down the rest of his soda and tossed the can in the direction of his overflowing trash can.

  It almost hit Ollie in the head on its way there, but he ducked just in time.

  The room was somehow even messier than when Ollie had snuck in to grab the laptop the other day. Hollis seemed content to navigate around the piles of smelly, soiled clothes. He’d made a temporary path from his bed to his desk chair through the discarded remains of snack wrappers and empty discount sports-drink bottles. One thing was for sure: Hollis had never been this messy when he shared a room with Ollie.

  Hollis turned his attention back to the cracked screen. He clicked into another tab that he already had open. On the tab was a search for “how to talk to girls.”

  Ollie snorted. He couldn’t help himself. Hollis whipped around.

  “Hey!” screamed Hollis. Ollie was pretty sure that he had scared him. “No trespassers. Don’t you know how to read?” And then he noticed the sign.

  “What?! Come on! It took me like a whole hour to make that sign, Ollie! You really need to learn to respect other people’s stuff. First my laptop . . .”

  “Our laptop.”

  “. . . and now my sign!”

  Then Hollis noticed that the search window was still open. And that Ollie had seen it. Ollie could practically see the steam coming out of his brother’s ears.

  “That’s it! You asked for it!” shouted Hollis.

  Hollis charged toward Ollie, tackled him to the ground, and put him in a headlock. Ollie had lost all wrestling matches to his brother since the “great growth spurt.”

  But this was before Ollie had a growth spurt of his own.

  He knew he couldn’t use the gum to beat his brother. But he had just wrestled in his first real wrestling match and, in doing so, had learned the importance of a proper costume.

  As he was forced to look down at his brother’s shoes—his headlock didn’t give him much range of motion—he saw they were untied. Ollie had learned the hard way just the other day what untied shoes could do to someone.

  Which meant that maybe he could use that to his advantage.

  He kicked free of the headlock, wheeled around, and forced Hollis to charge again. When he did, Hollis stepped on his own shoelace. His brother lost his balance and tumbled forward. Plastic bottles and wrappers went flying all across the room.

  Ollie took his chance and pounced on top of him.

  “One! Two! Thr—”

  Hollis shoved Ollie off him, grabbed him by the shirt, and pinned him.

  “My turn,” said Hollis. “One! Two! Thr—”

  He and Hollis were ripped apart by their mom.

  “Hey! No beating up on your brother. Both of you,” she said as she looked from one brother to the other.

  “But he started it,” said Hollis.

  “I don’t care who started it. There will be no unsupervised wrestling in my house. I don’t want it to happen again.”

  Ollie and Hollis both stood there silently.

  Their mom sighed. She hadn’t even had time to shower after rushing home to make dinner for him and Hollis. The sweat stains on her shirt—not to mention the stench—clued him in that she had just recently finished an epic workout with a client.

  Her hard gaze softened as she took a knee between them.

  “Listen, you two. You each only have one brother. Be nice to each other. Understood?”

  They both nodded.

  Their mom sniffed the air. Her face turned a bit pale. “And I think we could all use a shower. And then you’re gonna clean this room, mister. Who knows what’s crawling around in here.”

  “I’ll tell ya what’s crawling around in here. Little bug-eyed brothers,” said Hollis.

  Ollie ran back to his room and closed the door. He couldn’t believe he had been only one second away from beating his brother in a wrestling match. He hadn’t gotten that close in years. And even though it was technically a loss, it wasn’t a total loss.

  Ollie felt energized by his almost-win. He felt a wave of confidence shoot through him that he hadn’t felt since beating Gorgeous Gordon Gussett.

  He picked up his smack-talk note cards and stared into the mirror.

  “Your tongue may be silver, but silence is golden . . . ,” he read.

  He was going to practice and practice, even if it took him all night long, in order to get it right. He had to beat Silvertongue.

  CHAPTER 24

  The following morning, Ollie slept through his alarm. He had stayed up most of the night practicing smack talk and remembered that he had to finish answering his questions for “The Deadliest Pigeon” presentation just as he was getting into bed.

  “School waits for no one!” his mom shouted when she found him still fast asleep. He had just enough time to throw on clothes, grab the note cards that he had prepared for his presentation, and sprint to the bus.

  At school, he told Tamiko that he had practiced his smack talk all last night. He cleared his throat and, in his deepest voice, said, “You know why they call you Silvertongue? Because second place is all your lil’ smack-talk game is good for.”

  She inhaled sharply. “That hurt my emotions and I’m not even Silvertongue.”

  “I know, right? It cuts deep. They cut real deep!”

  “Hey,” she said. “I’m proud of you! Great work!”

  It felt good to impress Tamiko. She had really helped him come up with the best lines. After all, her voice, like Silvertongue’s, was her strongest asset.

  She would never turn down an opportunity to yell at the top of her lungs.

  Ollie could barely stay awake as the day went on, and by the time he got to math class he was practically asleep at his desk. Being Big Chew and Ollie was hard.

  “Just five more minutes,” he muttered when Ms. Glenbottom tried to wake him up.

  The only thing keeping him awake at all was the anxiety of having to get up in front of his English class and read his cards. He didn’t like it when all eyes were on him.

  And he had read the short story. Well, more like skimmed. But it was really boring and hard to follow. Besides, he was busy worrying about his upcoming match with Silvertongue and how to beat her.

  “I’m so nervous I think I might pass out,” he confessed to Tamiko as they walked into Mr. Fitzgerald’s class.

  Tamiko rolled her eyes. Whereas Ollie was a mess—Tamiko pointed out that he had put his shirt on inside out—she was beaming with confidence. She’d even tucked her shirt in for the occasion. But then again, talking in front of the class never fazed her at all.

  “Dude! You got in the ring in front of an entire arena,” she said.

  “But that wasn’t me. That was Big Chew,” he argued. “And besides, that was like, what, five people including you and Hollis?”

  “You are Big Chew!”

  “It’s not the same,” said Ollie. “When I’m him, I’m huge and awesome and I have long, flowing hair that is always magically conditioned. Big Chew can do or act however I want. It’s like I’m playing a character on television. But when I’m me, I’m, well, just me.”

  Tamiko shook her head. “First off, we’re a tag team on this. I got your back up there. And second, Big Chew didn’t collect all the items for his costume. You did. Big Chew didn’t infiltrate Hollis’s room and come up with some awesome smack talk. You did!”


  Maybe she was right.

  No, she was right. Ollie had done all of that stuff on his own. Tamiko was always good at making him feel better. If he could get in the ring and wrestle in only his underwear, surely he could read a silly presentation in front of his class.

  He tried to keep his eyes open during the other presentations. But he felt himself drifting in and out of sleep. He dreamt that he was standing in the ring with Silvertongue.

  Only, it wasn’t Big Chew standing in the ring. It was Ollie.

  In the dream, he tried to speak, but when he did, no words came out of his mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Silvertongue. “Cat got your tongue?”

  The arena, which was filled to capacity, exploded with laughter.

  Ollie felt small. Smaller than usual. He turned to run away, but he ran directly into the ropes and was sent flying back toward his opponent. Silvertongue tackled Ollie to the mat, picked him up, and threw him over the ropes. He had the sensation of falling and suddenly woke up back in class. Tamiko was shaking him and telling him that it was their turn.

  “We’re up, Ollie!” said Tamiko.

  He breathed heavily. It was just a dream.

  No. A nightmare.

  He reached into his backpack and pulled out the note cards for the presentation. It had taken him until the sun had almost come out to finish. But there was no way he was going to let Tamiko down. He shuffled himself to the front of the classroom.

  He stared ahead while Tamiko described the main themes and motivations of “The Deadliest Pigeon.” He tried not to make any eye contact with his classmates. Luckily, they seemed more interested in doodling on their desks, sneaking glances at their phones, or—in one case way in the back of the room—picking their noses rather than hearing whatever Tamiko had to say.

  “And now my partner, Ollie, will walk us through what the pigeon was feeling when he finally confronted his brother,” finished Tamiko. She turned to him. “Take it away, Ollie!”

  Ollie looked down at his note cards.

  He gasped. He shuffled through them and realized that he hadn’t grabbed his presentation note cards at all. He’d grabbed his smack-talk note cards!

  “Take it away, Ollie!” echoed Mr. Fitzgerald.

  Ollie didn’t know what to do. He could try to recite the report from memory. But his mind was going blank. His throat was getting dry. And the longer he was silent, the more his classmates raised their heads and stared at him, presumably wondering what was going on.

  “Umm. Is there any way we could finish the presentation on Monday?” he asked.

  Tamiko shot him a confused look.

  “Not feeling prepared is not a good-enough excuse here,” Mr. Fitzgerald responded. “Ms. Tanaka has done a great job so far. I believe in you, Ollie. You look prepared. You brought your note cards. Why not just start by reading what you wrote on them?”

  “I really don’t think I should,” he insisted.

  “Ollie. I can’t give some students second chances and not others. It wouldn’t be fair.” Mr. Fitzgerald smiled. “Now, just read the note cards. Otherwise I will be forced to give you and Ms. Tanaka a failing grade. Do you think that would be fair to your partner?”

  Of course he didn’t think it would be fair. But he didn’t know what was worse: getting a failing grade, or reading the smack talk he had written for Big Chew.

  He could feel Tamiko’s eyes on him, but he didn’t dare look at her.

  He knew that he didn’t have any choice. So he cleared his throat and shuffled the note cards, hoping to find one that wasn’t particularly offensive. It was one thing to say smack talk in the ring, but in front of your class? He knew it wouldn’t end well.

  He strained his mind and attempted to pull something—anything—from memory.

  Think, Ollie! You read the whole story. Mostly. Just move your mouth.

  “Umm. So there’s this pigeon and he’s deadly. And then . . . he confronts his brother and says, ‘Coo! Coo!’”

  “Go on . . . ,” said Mr. Fitzgerald. “Just read from your note cards.”

  But nothing else came. He looked down at his note cards.

  “Okay. Here it goes.” He cleared his throat. “What’s on the tip of your tongue?” He paused for dramatic effect and looked up at the classroom. “Oh. yeah. My fist.”

  Tamiko’s face turned green. Some of his classmates laughed. Others seemed confused. It looked like Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t really know what to say.

  Ollie wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere.

  “Ollie,” said Mr. Fitzgerald. “Just stick to what you have written on your note cards.”

  “I swear I am!”

  “You’re telling me that Virginia Borjenowitz wrote, ‘What’s on the tip of your tongue? Oh, yeah. My fist’?” asked Mr. Fitzgerald. “Not likely. Unless you’ve found some lost chapter that I’ve never read?”

  “No, I don’t think she did.” Ollie gulped. “Sorry, I don’t know how that got in there.”

  “Proceed, Mr. Evander.”

  Ollie sighed. He brought up the next card.

  “You look hungry. Well, here’s my elbow on a silver platter . . .” Then he instinctively mimicked elbowing the air in front of him like he had practiced all last night.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” said Mr. Fitzgerald, his tone rising. “Nor do I know what’s up with the silver- and tongue-themed insults. This is your final warning, Ollie. Just read your note cards.”

  “Seriously, Ollie. Quit it,” said Tamiko through clenched teeth.

  Ollie was racked with nerves. Surely someone had turned up the heat? He was all sweaty and had to keep wiping his hands on the back of his pants. But Mr. Fitzgerald was waiting for him to continue. He had no other option.

  He felt like everything was moving in slow motion. He raised the note card up to read, his lips started to move, and the words spilled out of his mouth.

  “Your tongue may be silver, but silence is golden . . . ,” he read.

  Then everything sped up very quickly.

  “Give me those cards right now.”

  Ollie handed Mr. Fitzgerald the cards. He shuffled through them and gasped.

  “I don’t know what this is, but it certainly isn’t for your presentation. I have no other option than to give you and Ms. Tanaka a failing grade. Now take your seats. I don’t want to hear another word about tongues or silver or whatever.”

  Ollie took his seat while the next group went up to the front of the classroom. Tamiko slumped down next to him.

  “Dude, what just happened?” she whispered.

  “We just failed the presentation,” he whispered back.

  “I counted on you to do your part. I did mine.”

  “I did, Tamiko. I swear. I stayed up all night and everything. But I could have sworn that I grabbed my presentation note cards this morning on the way out. I know I messed up. I’m really sorry.”

  Tamiko sighed. “That’s really going to hurt my grade, Ollie. I know you don’t really care about school and your grades, but I do.”

  “I know. I know. I said I was sorry. It won’t happen ever again,” he promised.

  She buried her face in her hands and then started quietly giggling to herself.

  “I mean . . . That line about your elbow on a silver platter was pretty funny.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Saturday arrived and with it Ollie’s match versus Silvertongue. He got to Slamdown Town earlier than usual. After the debacle with the note cards in class yesterday, he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

  “Just wanted to make sure I got a good seat for the show,” he told his mom as he was leaving.

  “But, Ollie, your seat has your name on it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Illegally, I might add.”

  “Can’t be too careful!”

  This was a joke, of course. There were always hundreds of empty seats, and Ollie always sat in the same one. But, fortunately, his mom didn’t question it further.
<
br />   “All right, then. I’ll see you afterward,” she said as she gave him a kiss on the forehead. “And remember, no wrestling. You’re there to watch, not to tangle with your brother.”

  “I promise to not wrestle Hollis,” he assured her. Which was true, because he needed to wrestle Silvertongue instead.

  He stuffed his costume into his bag, triple-checked that he had the correct note cards on hand, and retrieved the gum from its super-secret hiding spot under his desk.

  When he entered the locker room, he did what had now become routine: popped the gum into his mouth, chomped down on it, and transformed into Big Chew.

  He stared into the small, round mirror in his locker and practiced his smack talk.

  “What’s on the tip of your tongue?” he snarled. “Oh. yeah. My fist!”

  Then he pretended to punch the mirror. He tried another.

  “You look hungry. Well, here’s my elbow on a silver platter!”

  Then he elbowed the mirror.

  It was intimidating, but he felt like he was missing something. With only a few minutes left to prepare before the big match, he hopped up and down, trying to ramp up his energy, and ran the lines again.

  “What’s on the tip of your tongue?” he snarled. “Oh, yeah. My fist!”

  This time, he wound up, closed his eyes, and swung as hard as he could.

  But instead of hitting the mirror, he hit something much meatier. He opened his eyes to see that he’d accidentally punched Big Tuna, his locker mate, who at that exact moment had bent down to pick up a lip balm he had dropped.

  “Hey! That really hurt!” said Big Tuna.

  “Oh! I’m sorry, Tuna. I didn’t mean to punch you—”

  “Not the punch. What you said! Nobody mocks the Tuna! Nobody!”

  Tuna grabbed Ollie by the torso and tackled him into the lockers. The two titans rolled onto the ground. Ollie tried to grapple Tuna, but he was too quick. Tuna flung Ollie into a trash can. He bounced off and landed with a crash on the floor.

  “Prepare yourself for the Tidal Wave!” screamed Big Tuna.

  Ollie knew that the Tidal Wave was one of Big Tuna’s signature moves. He stumbled to his feet in the hopes of reaching higher ground, but he wasn’t quick enough. In seconds, Tuna grabbed Ollie by the back of his shirt, bent him over his knee, and raised his arms as high as they could go. Ollie knew that he had no other choice but to ride the wave.