But before she could detail her daily hygiene routine, he took advantage of the break. He stepped forward, placed his golden gloves on both sides of Silvertongue’s face, whipped his head backward and forward, and delivered a headbutt.
She reeled backward into the center of the ring, which allowed Ollie to, at last, escape the corner. He closed his eyes.
There was imaginary Hollis, in front of him again. They were wrestling and, in between headlocks, Hollis was telling him he knew the best way to talk to girls and get them to think you’re cool. But Ollie knew Hollis had never talked to a girl in his life.
So he said, “You can’t even talk to girls. And you think you’re cool?”
Now when Ollie opened his eyes, Silvertongue’s face was white with anger.
“Um, I mean, I probably should speak to my sisters more. But then, I needed my own personal space and—” explained Silvertongue.
This time he was ready and landed a superkick as Silvertongue allowed herself to get distracted again. The slightly scuffed sole of a golden boot planted itself firmly into her side. She bounced, hard, into the ropes.
He closed his eyes again and remembered the time when Hollis had used his electric guitar to play his own wrestling entrance music. Hollis thought he was some kind of musical genius, but since he never actually practiced his lessons, he didn’t know how to play. Hollis just said that he was “misunderstood,” dropped the guitar, and charged him.
Ollie opened his eyes and addressed Silvertongue. “Your guitar-playing sounds like two clogged toilets flushing! Actually, two clogged toilets flushing sounds worse.”
Silvertongue gasped, her eyes wide with shock. “Who told you about my guitar lessons? I shared that in confidence!”
Admittedly, Ollie was surprised that one stuck as well. But a well-aimed leg drop, a bear hug, and a flip back onto the mat was the only answer he gave. She squirmed as she made her way toward the ropes. The tables had started to turn in his favor. And everyone knew it.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but tears are coming out anyway, folks!” shouted Screech. “Looks like Big Chew has finally found his voice. And a steady stream of attacks to go with it!”
He had struck a nerve. The attacks took their toll on Silvertongue. She stumbled, unable to focus, because his verbal attacks opened up opportunities for him to land hit after hit. He savored the salty taste of impending victory.
Or maybe that was just sweat that kept rolling into his mouth. Either way, it tasted great.
“And another thing.” He tossed Silvertongue into the corner. He was eager to return the corner beatdown he had received earlier. “You spend way too much time in the bathroom.” He was thinking about the times when he and Hollis had wrestled after lunch. Hollis’s stomach would always get upset, and then he’d run from the room and dive into the bathroom. You couldn’t spend more than ten seconds outside the ring before you were disqualified, so wrestling after lunch was always an easy win for Ollie.
“Enough!” screamed Silvertongue. “My time in the bathroom is nobody else’s business. Plus, I’m on a new diet that, while healthy, does not agree with my stomach.”
He had celebrated too soon. The match wasn’t over yet.
She blocked his incoming strike, placed both of her hands around his face, and delivered a headbutt of her own. Seeing stars and noting the fact that Silvertongue had a slight dandruff problem, Ollie tumbled backward.
But she didn’t follow up the attack.
“Big Chew! Big Chew! Big Chew!” roared the tiny crowd in response.
“Hey! Knock it off,” hissed Silvertongue. Not to him. She had grabbed a microphone and was now speaking to the crowd. “You losers need to focus on the real trash talker. Me.”
Silvertongue was fuming. The crowd had turned against her. And she was not having it. She ignored Ollie’s mom’s efforts to pry the microphone away.
“Rules clearly state that verbal assaults directed to the crowd are not allowed,” his mom said, fumbling for the mic. “You’re toeing the line, Silvertongue.”
“Why won’t any of you listen to me?” asked Silvertongue as she swatted his mom’s hand away. “I’m the master of smack. The viper with the poison tongue. Pay attention!”
“Silvertongue better pay more attention to the match and less to the crowd,” observed Screech Holler.
He had a point. Silvertongue was completely focused on the crowd. Ollie doubted she even remembered he was still standing there. With her full attention fixed on the two dozen fans in attendance outside the ring, she had left herself vulnerable inside it.
Ollie took advantage of the opportunity. He ran and bounced off the ropes. One, two, three times. Each time gaining more and more momentum.
He turned toward Silvertongue and ran at full speed. He extended his arm . . .
“Oh, no! Silvertongue. Look out!” yelled Screech.
Ollie gathered up a startling amount of speed after bouncing off the ropes. The red cape fluttered behind his massive body as the wind whipped past him. His outstretched arm was aimed straight at Silvertongue’s back. And she had no clue!
But then he remembered that his planned attack would be illegal. Blows from behind were dirty. And his mom’s career had ended on a dirty move. There was no way Ollie was going to stoop to that level. So, before he slammed into her, he opened his mouth.
“Hey, Silvertongue!” he shouted.
“Huh?” She turned just in time to see him charging at her like a runaway train.
“Catch!”
With a thud, his arm slammed into her chest. She flopped backward onto the mat. So Ollie threw himself over her.
Right on cue, his mom appeared next to the pair. She fell down on the mat and went through the count.
“Eight! Nine!! Ten!!! She’s out,” declared his mom.
“He’s done it again, folks!” Screech let out a whoop. “Big Chew has laid the smackdown on Silvertongue and emerged victorious. Give a big Slamdown Town cheer for your winner. And possible new fan favorite?”
He had won yet another match. He soaked in the cheers and applause. With this win, Big Chew was one step closer to facing Werewrestler. The championship belt felt practically within reach. He let the dream of winning back the belt wash over him.
That is, until he noticed his mom had a rather stern look on her face.
“You were dangerously close to violating—” she began.
“—rule twenty, about illegal blows to defenseless opponents,” he finished. “I know, Mom—er, ma’am. That’s why I yelled at her. So she’d turn around. Totally legal move then!”
His mom looked impressed. Or at least, slightly less annoyed. She tilted her head to Silvertongue, who was still passed out on the mat. “I swear, you insulted her like my kids do. I can see why my oldest son likes you so much.”
She gave him a close look, squinting as if to better assess him.
He laughed. Not an amused laugh, but a nervous one. Had his mom paid Big Chew an actual compliment, or had she finally seen through his act?
“Well, I better get going. Other matches and all that. Gotta clear the ring.”
Under his mom’s watchful eye, he swung himself over the ropes.
On his way out of the ring, Ollie looked up and found Tamiko in her usual seat. Only, unlike his match with Gorgeous Gordon Gussett, she wasn’t hopping up and down or cheering. She wasn’t looking at Ollie at all.
Instead, she was staring at the empty seat next to her.
Ollie’s seat.
He wondered what was wrong. But he didn’t have long to wonder, because his mom started yelling at him from the ring to clear the entryway for the next match.
He sprinted up the ramp, exited through the wrestlers’ entryway, turned the corner, and saw Hollis. Like before, he was hanging over the barricade trying to get his attention.
“Hey, Big Chew! It’s me! Remember? Boy, you sure showed Silvertongue,” blabbered Hollis. “That was intense. I felt, like, personally attacked. Now
that’s the mark of good smack talk!”
So he had noticed. Even on some subconscious level, his brother picked up on what Ollie had said in the ring. After all, he and Hollis had said that stuff to each other for years.
Ugh. Why did Hollis have to ruin his victory high?
But then Ollie had a brilliant idea. No insult that he said to his brother as his eleven-year-old self seemed to work. Ollie was too small, his voice too high, to do any damage. But as Big Chew? Big Chew was someone Hollis admired—maybe even feared.
If Big Chew delivered a can of smack talk to Hollis, it might have an impact.
A big impact.
Ollie opened his mouth, practically salivating at the idea of finally getting to his brother. The words flowed out beautifully.
“You know why you were named Hollis? Because Smelly Nincompoop wouldn’t fit on the birth certificate.”
Hollis stood there, dumbfounded. Then he said, “Pinch me. I must be dreaming.”
What? He isn’t mad?
“You remembered my name? And wrote me a personalized smack-talk line?” Hollis let out a cheer. “I don’t even remember telling you my name. Now that’s what I call treating your fans right. You can do no wrong, Big Chew! Oh, and check it out!”
Hollis held up his elbow. He was wearing the elbow pad.
Ollie’s heart sank. He had failed to get to his brother.
Again.
“What do you think?” asked Hollis.
But Ollie was too confused to think. As Ollie, he was too hated. As Big Chew, he was too loved. Ollie turned and stormed off toward the locker room, leaving Hollis behind.
“You must be tired! Rest up, champ! You’re gonna go all the way!”
Despite winning in the ring, Ollie couldn’t win against his brother.
CHAPTER 28
Ollie checked to make sure the locker room was clear. It was a high-traffic area, and he needed to ensure it was empty before he turned back to his normal self.
He wanted to change back into regular-size Ollie as quickly as possible. Something about the way Tamiko had looked—or rather, not looked—out in the stands had stayed with him. He didn’t know why, but he felt bad. He couldn’t shake it.
The room seemed empty. Or as empty as it would get. He turned around, poised to pop the gum out of his mouth.
And found himself face-to-face with Big Tuna.
Oh, no, thought Ollie. Is he back for round two?
He assumed one round of revenge had been enough. But perhaps Big Tuna was hungry for more. He did have a reputation for both large appetites and revenge.
“What’s up, Big Tuna?” Ollie asked with a hint of caution. He made sure to chew the gum with extra oomph. He was not about to lose the gum. Not this time, anyway.
“Um, hey there. Big Chew. I, uh . . . ,” stuttered Big Tuna.
Big Tuna was nervous. That was not the reaction Ollie had been expecting.
“Look. I’m . . . ,” started Big Tuna for the second time.
But Big Tuna chose to look away instead of finishing his thought. Ollie, unsure of what was happening, kept his mouth shut.
“That was some killer smack talk out there,” said Big Tuna finally.
“Oh. You thought so?” he asked.
Big Tuna nodded. “Silvertongue is as snarky as they come. And you made her look like a kid on the playground who just had her lunch money stolen.”
“That’s a good one! I’ll remember that for next time.”
Then, more awkward silence.
“Listen, about before. My bad about the whole shoving-you-into-and-through-a-bunch-of-lockers thing,” said Big Tuna.
“Are you kidding? I got a front-row seat to the Tidal Wave. It was so awesome.”
Big Tuna slapped his belly and laughed. The tension in the room evaporated.
Ollie’s eyes went wide. “You just did the Fin Slap!”
“Wait . . .” Big Tuna eyed him up. “Tidal Wave. Fin Slap. Do I detect a fan?”
“Is something fishy? ’Cause it’s about to be!” said Ollie, parroting Big Tuna’s famous catchphrase.
“Yep, that’s the one.” Big Tuna laughed. And slapped his belly again. “I never would have pegged you for a fan of mine.”
“Are you kidding me? I wrote a whole essay about you back in fourth grade. We were learning about sea life in Mrs. Boredesky’s science class, and I told her my favorite fish was tuna, because you know, you’re Big Tuna, and then she was like—”
Ollie stopped the compliments. He had to remind himself that here he wasn’t Ollie.
Here, he was Big Chew.
“But anyway,” he continued, “it was a long time ago.”
Big Tuna smiled. “Well,” he said, walking toward the exit, “consider me a fan of yours, as well. If you ever think about going toe-to-toe in the ring, not just in the locker room, maybe give me a holler.” And with that he walked away.
Ollie’s mouth opened and closed. He must have looked like a fish gasping for water.
He double-checked that the coast was clear. Then he popped the gum out of his mouth, placed it in the wrapper, and stuffed it in his back pocket. And not a moment too soon.
Because another wrestler had walked into the locker room.
“Hey, sorry, I was just—” started Ollie. But he stopped right there. Because the wrestler who had just entered the room sent a chill up his spine.
Werewrestler. With his smug frown permanently plastered on him. Ollie wanted to wipe that frown right off his face. He wished he was still Big Chew. He knew his eleven-year-old self couldn’t do anything to hurt a wrestler that size.
“What are you doing back here, pip-squeak?” growled Werewrestler.
“Um, I got lost looking for the bathroom,” he lied.
“This area isn’t for puny little punks. Get lost.”
Ollie wasn’t sure if another opportunity for a one-on-one outside the ring with Werewrestler would come up. He needed to find a way to get Werewrestler interested in facing Big Chew for the belt. Then Big Chew would teach Werewrestler all of Professor Pain’s thirty-two moves to make your enemies feel soul-crushing pain.
“Did you hear me, shrimp? You aren’t allowed back here,” repeated Werewrestler.
“You think you’re so tough. But you’re not. Big Chew is going to stop you!” he said.
“Big who? The newbie? He wouldn’t last five seconds in the ring with me.”
“He beat Gorgeous Gordon Gussett and Silvertongue,” Ollie spat back. “And he’ll beat whomever he has to in order to get at you.”
“What are ya? His manager or something? Why do you care so much?”
He fought the temptation to chew the gum and face Werewrestler right there in the locker room.
“I care because it’s time for a new champion. And that champion is Big Chew.”
“You think I’m scared?” scoffed Werewrestler.
Werewrestler pointed to the gold championship belt around his waist. “Listen, kid. I’ve defended this belt so many times I’ve lost count. Even if I bother to challenge this Big Chew fool, he’ll fail just like everybody else. Then again, I do love making examples of people. Maybe I’ll do it just to break the newbie’s spirit.”
“Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that!” shouted Ollie.
“Ollie!”
His mom stood in the doorway. She must have been walking past and noticed him and Werewrestler inside the locker room. He did not need a second look to know she was furious. He wondered if she was angrier at him or at Werewrestler.
“Ollie, this is a wrestlers-only area. What is going on here?” she demanded.
“Oh, I see.” For the first time in the conversation, Werewrestler smiled. He looked from Ollie to Ollie’s mom. “He’s your son. Is that it, Banshee?”
Red splotches flashed across her face. “It’s Referee now. And it’s no concern of yours.”
“But it’s like you said, ref. This is a wrestlers-only area. And considering I’m the only wrestler here, it is
very much my concern.”
Ollie hardly dared to breathe.
“I didn’t realize you cared so much about the rules. I seem to recall that they don’t apply to you very much,” said his mom.
“Rules are for chumps. Which is why you and your son should hit the road, ref.”
The two stared each other down. He hoped his mom would slam Werewrestler straight through the wall.
But instead his mom pulled away. She handed the stare-down victory over to Werewrestler without any fight at all.
“Come on, Ollie. We’re going home.”
Werewrestler is the worst, he thought as he followed his mom out of the room.
Ollie expected his mom to punish him for being where he shouldn’t have been. But she seemed lost in her own thoughts. He had somehow avoided getting into trouble.
Best not to push his luck.
His mom steered him back to the lobby in silence, where Hollis waited in line for more nachos.
“Hey, dweeb-face! Did Big Chew write you a personalized smack-talk line?” asked Hollis as they passed by. “Because he wrote me a personalized smack-talk line. I’d tell it to you, but you wouldn’t understand it. We’re close like that.”
Or maybe Hollis is the worst.
Ollie decided to call it a draw in the championship title of the worst person ever.
“Where have you been, dude?” asked a concerned Tamiko when he finally made it to his seat. “You missed a good one with Big Tuna and Mack Truck.”
“Well, buckle up again,” said Ollie. “Because I have a lot to tell you.”
CHAPTER 29
“Wait a second,” said Ollie to Tamiko as he searched his book bag. “I know for a fact I put my drawing in here earlier.”
The school day had, mercifully, just ended. So he’d been watching Professor Pain’s next video in the Anyone Can Be a Wrestler series by his locker while Tamiko collected her things to bring home.
“So you think you can ’rassle?” asked Professor Pain.
The Professor was seated in an empty classroom. How he had managed to fit into one of the kid-size desks, Ollie had no clue. But there sat Professor Pain, with his pen and paper at the ready.
“Well, let’s see. You know how to work a stylin’ costume.”
Slamdown Town Page 14