Sammy Keyes and the Psycho Kitty Queen (9 page)

Before I can think, my body shoots out from under the ring. And as I'm scrambling to my feet, the place goes quiet. Big sweaty bodies everywhere are staring at me. And I start backpedaling for the door, but two of the wrestlers grab me by the arms and yank me back.

Then the flaps of the ring's skirt push apart, and out comes the guy with the crazy cat mask. His creepy yellow cat eyes are fixed on me as he rasps, “I saw her dive under. She wasn't doin' nothin'. Just watchin'.”

Now Dave's looking down at me from the ring like, Well, well, well, while the rest of the wrestlers are checking me over, not really knowing what to think. “Good work, El Gato,” Dave says to the cat dude.

“Thanks,” he says, then jerks his head toward me.

Well, I jump, ‘cause the guy's a freak, you know? Stupid cat mask, yellow eyes, striped potbelly…

He laughs and rasps, “Skittery ain't'cha?” then whispers, “I told you to stay away!”

Slammin' Dave laughs and says to me, “I've heard about wantin' a ringside seat before, but
underneath
it?”

“You want I should throw her out?” El Gato asks him.

Dave shakes his beefy tan neck. “Uh-uh. Throw her up here.”

“Up there?”

“Uh-huh.”

And with that, El Gato lifts me by the back of my jeans and my shirt and passes me through the ropes.

“You must want to wrestle bad, huh?” Slammin' Dave says with a grin.

I look from side to side. “Uh—”

“Well, come on. Let's see you take a bump.”

“But—”

“What do you say, guys?” he calls to the class. “Think this girl can be the next Chyna?”

All of them snort and snicker, and one of the plumper guys even laughs and says, “Not in this lifetime!”

“Shut up, Tubby,” I grumble at him.

“Oh,” Dave says. “She's got attitude!” I start to say something back, but he cuts me off with, “That's
a good
thing.” He puts an anvil arm around me. “You learn anything, being under there?”

Now what my brain wants my mouth to say is, No sir. I'm sorry, sir. And I promise I won't do it again, sir. But
instead I pop off with, “Yeah. That you need a new janitor. It's a dump under there.”

He laughs, then calls, “Hey, Tony! Yo! Tony, you still back there?”

The guy who'd tossed Holly's trash when we'd been spying through the back door appears from around some lockers. “Yeah?” he says, and when he recognizes me, he says, “Hey, chiquita.” Then he turns to Dave. “What's up?”

“Tony,” Dave says, “this young lady's calling your professional services into question.”

“That so?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

Now, this is all making me pretty nervous. So I say, “Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean anything. And I'm sorry I snuck in. I just wanted to, you know,
experience
it.”

“You want to experience it?” Dave says, spreading his arms. “Go ahead—take a bump.”

Me and my big mouth. And from the grin on his face I can tell—the idea is definitely growing on him. He says, “You saw what I was teaching, right? Let's see what you learned.”

Well, the whole thing seemed pretty stupid to me, but I just wanted
out
of there. So I said, “Fine.”

“Uh…,” El Gato says, stepping forward. “You think that's such a hot idea?”

Well, forget him! Stupid creepy cat. I toss him a look, then squat, cross my arms, and tuck my chin. And before I can even think about what I'm doing, I rock on my toes, imagine someone's yanking a rug from underneath
me, throw back my shoulders, and BAM! I hit the mat.

I just lay there for a second. It hadn't hurt at all. Well, not like you'd expect, anyway. Then I rolled up and bounced on my toes. “Wow. That really works!”

Dave's eyes were wide. His jaw was dangling. And after all of two seconds of gaping at me, he turns and says, “See that, Benny?
That's how
it's done.”

“Beginner's luck!” Benny calls back.

Slammin' Dave snickers. “You could use some of that, my man.” Then he turns to me and says, “Again.”

Again? Uh-oh. It probably
had
just been beginner's luck. But I wanted to try it again—something about doing it right felt really good. So I squat, cross my arms, tuck my chin, rock up, and… BAM! I hit the mat again. And man, I gotta tell you, it felt great. I felt, I don't know, tough.

I rolled up, and before Dave could stop me, I tried it again.

BAM!

I rolled up again and said, “That is so cool!”

“Bet she can't take a front bump,” Benny yelled.

“Oh yeah?” I called back. Then I turned to Dave. “What's a front bump?”

Dave shakes his head and says, “We don't have time for that,” but Benny calls out, “Sure we do! Huh, guys?”

Now you can tell that the other guys aren't big on the idea, but Benny says, “Twenty-five bucks says she can't do it.”

“On what?” the guy who looks like a marine asks. “Her first try?”

“
Fifty
bucks says she can't do it on her first try.”

There's a minute of silence where everyone seems to be staring at me. But then Tony says, “Fifty says she can.”

The Marine calls, “I'm in!” and before you know it, lockers are slamming and Tony's collecting money, jotting down notes on a scrap of paper.

“They're
betting
on me?” I whisper to Dave.

He grins. “The pressure's on, kid.”

“Why? Someone's gonna lose either way. And it's not like
I
get anything out of it.”

“Hmm,” he says, then calls down to Tony, “Hold back ten percent.”

“You takin' a cut?” Tony asks.

Dave shakes his head. “She is.”

Everyone seems to freeze for a split second, and then Tony says, “She can't do that.”

“Hey, who's runnin' the show here, huh?” Dave asks, like there's no way he's going to let his
janitor
call the shots. “Front bump or fail, she gets ten percent for trying.”

Tony shrugs and says, “Whatever you say,” and gets back to collecting bets.

Now in my head I'm thinking, Wow! If all these guys bet fifty bucks each and I get ten percent… that'll be a
boat
load
of money for me.

So when they've got the money all squared away and Slammin' Dave says to me, “Ready?” I say, “You bet!”

It was too late to back out when he showed me what I had to do.

A front bump is nothing like a back bump. Well, except that you land flat on your back on the mat. A front bump is basically an airborne somersault. No hands, no shoulders, you just launch yourself forward through the air, tuck your head in, and land BAM! on your back.

The whole ring shook when Slammin' Dave demonstrated. Then he broke it down for me and demonstrated again. And my face must've been looking pretty chalky, because he took me aside and said, “Don't freak. There's really nothing to it.”

“Oh right,” I choked out.

“Listen. As far as I can tell, you've got no fear of the mat.”

“Well… no. It's not
soft
, but it's got springs—”

“Shhh,” he said, grinning. “So it's not cement, right?”

“Right.”

“So in your mind, make it a trampoline. See yourself flippin' over—” He noticed me eyeing the guys lined up ringside and El Gato, pacing around behind them. “Hey,” he said, blocking my view, “concentrate.” He moved me so my back was to the wrestlers and said, “Close your eyes.”

I closed them.

“Think of the mat as a trampoline. You ever been on a trampoline?”

I nodded.

“You ever been
hurt
by a trampoline?”

I shook my head.

“Good. Now picture yourself… you're taking a step, your arms are swinging back as you tuck your chin and flip over. And then,
slam
, you land loud, but not hard. Your arms are out, your head is up.”

I stood there with my eyes closed, going through the steps, seeing him do it, seeing me do it. Visualizing just like Coach Rothhammer taught us to do about hitting home runs in softball.

He talked me through the steps about five times. Finally he said, “You got it?”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said. “If I were a betting man, I'd put my money on you.” Then under his breath he added, “Just don't land on your head.”

Tony got a nod from Slammin' Dave and called, “Time to rock ‘n' roll!”

“Don't I get even one practice try?” I asked.

“No!” Benny said. “The bet is first try.”

Slammin' Dave nodded. “Give it your best shot, kid.”

It always irritates me when someone calls me kid like that. It's like they don't give me credit for knowing anything, or how to
do
anything. And maybe Slammin' Dave didn't mean it that way, and maybe I did look totally scrawny standing next to him. But him calling me kid
reminded me how I was back to being twelve again, and I don't know—it made me more than irritated. It made me
mad.

But instead of snapping, I am
not
a kid! like I normally would've, I just glared at him. And before I had time to doubt myself or get scared, I took a step, hurled my body forward, and BAM! I hit the mat on my back.

At first I was stunned. The backside of my arms had hit hard, and even though I wasn't seeing stars, there was a little, you know, visual static.

I also thought I'd gone deaf. But then it hit me that it was just dead quiet from everyone else being stunned, too.

I rolled onto my forearm and stood up.

I'd done it!

The first thing I saw was El Gato. Even with his hood I could tell that his scary cat eyes were bugged way out. Then the Marine punched a fist into the air and whooped, “Yes!” But Benny shouted, “Hey! Is this some kind of a con? There's no way that girl's never taken a bump before!”

“No one's conning you,” Tony said as he began passing out money to the winners. “You called the bet, remember?”

Slammin' Dave was grinning at me but good. He shook my hand and said, “What's your name, kid?”

“I'm
not
a kid!”

He gave a soft snort. “Sure you are. And take my advice—enjoy it while you can.” Then he says, “So? You gonna tell me your name or am I gonna have to make one
up?” And before I can even say, It's Sammy,
he
says, “I got it! You're The Tiny Tiger.”

“The Tiny Tiger? I'm not a—”

He laughs, “Oh yes you are!” Then he calls over to Tony, “Hey, give The Tiny Tiger her cut!”

Now, I'm expecting all these musclemen to laugh and roll their eyes at my new, stupid name, but they don't. They all just sort of nod like, Yeah. Fits.

Tony smiles as he peels off two twenties. “Nice going, chiquita.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, taking the money.

Slammin' Dave calls, “Intermission's over, boys! Time for some pain!” He spreads the ropes for me to climb through and says, “You're welcome back anytime, Triple-T.”

“Triple-T?”

He's grinning, boy. Grinning big. “The … Tiny… Tiger.”

“I am
not
a tiny tiger!” I tell him as I climb out of the ring, but really, how mad can I be? I've got forty bucks in my hand, and I took a front bump on my first try.

Now the truth is, with everything that had happened, I'd completely forgotten why I was at Slammin' Dave's to begin with. But as I was heading for the front door, it all came flooding back. The Psycho Kitty Queen's cat. The Bulldog cat snatcher…

I looked over my shoulder. El Gato was busy talking to Dave on the far side of the mats, so I decided to take a quick peek into the room that's to the right of the front door. Maybe that's where the Bulldog had gone.

It turned out to be an office. I went inside and whispered, “Here, kitty-kitty-kitty” under the desks, but I didn't find any cats. Just roll-around chairs, a computer, wrestling posters, and papers. Papers
everywhere
—newspapers, printer paper, legal pads, maps, receipts—I'd never seen such a messy office. And boy, did it smell!

“Take a wrong turn?” a voice behind me rasped.

I jumped and turned. El Gato was standing there, staring at me with his creepy cat eyes. I kind of smiled at him and said, “Uh… I was just going to use the phone real quick. My mom's probably, you know, worried.”

He took me by the collar. “Quit prowling around and get out.”

“But—”

“You heard me,” he said, then dragged me along and tossed me outside.

Oh well. It's not like I'd found any evidence of kitty-napping. But what had happened to the Bulldog? I stood on the sidewalk thinking for a minute, then decided to go next door to the Pup Parlor.

When Vera saw me, she said, “You're back! Are you doing better than you were before?”

I laughed. “A lot better.” I showed her the forty bucks. “And richer!”

Meg and Holly were paying attention now, too. “Where'd you get that?” Holly asked.

“At Slammin' Dave's,” I said with a grin.

“Slammin' Dave's?” Meg asked. “How on earth…?”

So I started running off at the mouth about going to Hudson's and having another encounter with the Psycho
Kitty Queen and what she had said about some bulldog-looking guy stealing her cat, and how that got me sucked into
following
some bulldog-looking guy into Slammin' Dave's, and how I hid under the wrestling ring and got flushed out by El-Gato-the-Freaky-Cat-Dude and wound up winning forty dollars by doing a front bump on my first try