CHAPTER 65
I think you nerds know my big brother, the high school theatrical superstar Travis Wormowitz,” says Ringworm.
“The one you jerks got kicked out of the Shakespeare show,” adds Travis, giving Meredith a really dirty look. “Not that I’m bitter. No. I’m furious! You wimps cheated me out of my first major Shakespearean role.”
“Travis is your b-brother?” stammers Bill.
“Duh,” says Ringworm. “How do you think I got my nickname? I’m Reggie Wormowitz. Bob turned it into Ringworm. So I turned him into Bubblebutt. Because he has one. That thing jiggles, man.”
“Excuse us, children,” says Travis. “We’re on!”
“And when we do our number,” gloats Ringworm (I mean Reggie Wormowitz), “everybody will know who the true thief in this town is! Schuyler!”
The Wormowitz brothers do a chest bump. Their Mohawks shimmy when they collide.
To spare you the pain of hearing about Toxic Trash’s head-banging heavy metal screed, which had only two guitar chords in it, I’ll make a long story short. The Wormowitz brothers do a loud and annoying song about “Schuyler, the liar, the thieving highflier, the sneaky crooked smiler.” They even have a verse about Schuyler being arrested and sent to prison, which isn’t totally true. But the audience doesn’t know that.
That’s right. They had the same plan that we did, but worse—using the Battle of the Bands to trash Schuyler’s reputation in front of all of Seaside Heights even before they knew we’d be at the Battle of the Bands singing about them.
We’re standing in the wings, watching the nasty brothers publicly humiliate Schuyler.
“He’s a dog, that Schuyler. A nasty ol’ rottweiler!” Travis snarls into the microphone while Reggie thrashes out the other chord he knows on his electric guitar.
“Guess they had the same rhyming dictionary we did,” says Bill.
“Our lyrics were better, man,” mutters Jeff.
“Our music was better, too,” adds Meredith.
“Um, you guys?” I say. “We didn’t enter the Battle of the Bands to win the competition. We did it to clear Schuyler’s name by having Ringworm confess to all the crimes!”
“Gee, Jacky,” says Schuyler sarcastically. “That sure worked out well, didn’t it?”
It’s true. My mousetrap plan flopped. We wasted all that time working on our rap and our break-dance moves. We have nothing to show for it except some goofy costumes and even goofier hair.
Plus, now all of Seaside Heights thinks Schuyler’s a thief and a liar.
And it’s all my fault.