CHAPTER 37

 

I study the two guys on the stage.

I’m pretty sure it’s Bob and his friend Ringworm (I seriously need to learn his real name). They’ve both done something spiky with their hair. They’re also dressed in ripped T-shirts and black leather pants, and have chains dangling off their belts.

The two boys are manically hopping around a boom box (that’s a portable music machine the size of a suitcase), shaking their heads, pumping their fists in the air, and screaming at the empty beach. They’re imitating hard-core punk rockers, which, in the late ’80s and early ’90s, meant bands with names like the Misfits and Gorilla Biscuits.

Remember how Bob was making my stomach flip and feel funny? He’s doing it again. But it’s a new kind of funny. The kind you get with stomach flu.

When the music stops, Bob thrusts his make-believe microphone up toward the sky.

“We’re Toxic Trash,” he announces. “And we want your vote, Seaside Heights!”

Since there’s no one else in the audience, I applaud.

“You’ve got mine,” I say. Of course I have no idea what Bob and Ringworm are running for.

“Jacky?” says Bob after he squints enough to recognize who’s clapping for him.

I give him a wiggle-finger wave.

He hops off the stage.

“Aren’t we awesome?” he asks.

“Well,” I say with a smile, “your hair sure is.”

“Thanks. We’re going for the whole punk look. I might dye mine pink for the show.”

“What show?”

“The Battle of the Bands! It’s gonna be here on the beach.”

He shows me a crinkled flyer.

“The battle takes place right here on this stage,” snarls Ringworm. “Right before your stupid Shakespeare show.”

“Um, our Shakespeare show isn’t going to be stupid.”

“Sure it is,” says Ringworm. “It’s Sh-Sh-Shakespeare, isn’t it?”

Well, Bob may be trying to become a decent human being, but his sidekick, Ringworm, is definitely slipping back into familiar kindergarten-bully territory on me.

“We are so going to win this thing!” says Bob. “All we need now is the entry fee and a ton of hair gel.”

“Hey, you got any money, Jacky Ha-Ha?” says Ringworm, giving me a mean look. “Because we need two hundred more bucks to enter the Battle of the Bands.”

“No… I…”

He moves closer.

“Don’t w-w-worry, Jacky. We’ll pay you back wh-wh-when we w-w-win. First prize is a thousand b-b-bucks.”

“I don’t h-h-have any money,” I say, taking a step back.

“Sure you do. You have a job. People with jobs always have money.…”

Unless they give most of it to their parents, I think but don’t say. All I want to do is get out of there fast.

“Whoa,” Bob says to Ringworm. “Ease up, bro.”

“Aw, you’ve gone all soft, Roberto. Just because Jacky Ha-Ha smiled at you once…”

I’m trying to decide where exactly to kick Ringworm first and which way to run when I hear the wonderful whoop-whoop-whoop of a police siren and see the soft swirl of cherry-red light.

The cavalry has arrived!