A crazy idea was forming in Shawn’s head. Maybe, just maybe . . .
“Why can’t you come? I mean, if you can get a ticket, and if you haven’t had your surgery?”
“They won’t let me out. This isn’t my first operation.”
“How many have you had?”
Taylor started ticking off numbers on his fingers. “One, two, three . . . I think this is number eight. This year.”
Eight operations this year? How—
Taylor laughed. “I’m kidding! Not eight this year. Eight in all.”
“Oh.”
What would that be like? Eight operations? Here I am worried about the competition. Compared to what Taylor’s going through? That’s nothing.
There was silence again. Shawn knew that he ought to rejoin his family, but he also realized that Taylor, in some way, needed him there. Just for something to do, he got the acoustic guitar that Clarence had played and plucked idly at the strings.
“You play?” Taylor asked.
“Do I what?”
“You play? The guitar?”
“A little,” Shawn admitted. “But not—”
He was about to say, “But not in front of other people,” but Taylor interrupted.
“Play me something.”
Shawn froze, feeling the too-familiar knot in his stomach.
“Come on, Shawn,” Taylor cajoled. “I want to hear you. I bet you’re good.”
“I’m not good,” Shawn told him.
Taylor faked playing an air guitar. “Well, I can’t play at all because of my joints. So you’re better than me.”
I can’t play at all because of my joints.
Shawn sat and strapped on Clarence’s guitar. Taylor couldn’t play even if he wanted to. Shawn could play. All he had to do was want to. Though sweat dripped from his armpits, Shawn started the version of “Booyaka 619” he’d created in the hotel suite. Taylor broke into a broad smile when he recognized the riff.
“Six-one-nine! Keep going!”
Shawn kept going. He added new notes as Taylor bopped happily along.
It was the weirdest thing. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment, but the moment definitely happened. At some point, playing for Taylor stopped being scary. And when it stopped being scary? It started being fun.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Shawn came home from the hospital to a voice mail from Rey.
“Shawn, this is Rey. When’s the last time you looked at Tom Sawyer? I don’t know if you’re gonna need it tomorrow, but you’re gonna need it eventually. Prepare, my man.”
That was enough for Shawn to set his alarm an hour early, shower quickly, eat a breakfast of instant oatmeal, and settle down with the book to test himself. What was Tom’s aunt’s name? Polly. Who did Tom fight to impress Becky? Henry. How did the book end, exactly?
Yikes. Shawn realized he didn’t know. Not exactly. So he turned to the very last page and read carefully.
CONCLUSION.
So endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop—that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can.
Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present.
THE END.
Huh. That’s not what he thought. He thought it had ended with Tom and Huckleberry Finn talking about forming a gang of robbers, since robbers were so much cooler than pirates.
Well, now he knew. If the question came up, he was ready.
“Can you draw at all?” Jayden asked Shawn.
“I’m decent,” Shawn admitted.
“Me too. If we can get through the first part, I think we can send Spike home.” Jayden’s eyes shone at the possibility.
“So do I.” Shawn looked over at Spike, who was discussing strategy with his father and CM Punk. It was more than discussion. Spike’s father was right in his son’s face. “He deserves to lose. Look what I found outside my hotel door.”
Shawn dug out a folded sheet of newsprint. It was a faked front page of a newspaper. The two-word headline was gigantic: WEENIE LOSER!!! Under it was an Internet photograph of Shawn.
Jayden smiled grimly. “I got you beat.” She reached into her jacket pocket for a similar sheet of newsprint. Hers read: WWE STUPID-FAN!!! Under it was a photograph of Jayden.
“How can we be sure that Spike did those?” Shawn wondered. Then he and Jayden cracked up. If it hadn’t been Spike, then who? DeJuan?
It was almost ten o’clock on Saturday morning, the start of the second SuperFan challenge. Once again, the Georgia Dome was free of spectators except for the contestants’ families, but there were twice as many workers as the day before, since WrestleMania was only twenty-nine hours away. Once again, the challenge would be taped for streaming on the WWE website.
Shawn had an odd feeling. He felt confident. The competition would be in two parts. They’d start in the ring, where special hydraulics had been installed that would bounce the ring like a trampoline. Each contestant had to keep his or her balance for sixty seconds. Then he or she had to make their way to an assortment of poster board and art supplies at ringside. In five minutes, that competitor had to create a WWE-themed poster. No do-overs, either. You got points for how steady you were in the ring and points for how good your one poster turned out.
“Hey, you two.” DeJuan, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with both wrists splinted, came over to say hello.
“How are you feeling?” Shawn asked.
“Like I shouldn’t have wiped out yesterday,” DeJuan replied. “Also, hating Spike.” He leaned in close. “I found this on my doorstep this morning.” He unfolded a newspaper page much like the ones Shawn and Jayden had found. The headline read: BYE-BYE DEJUAN!
“We got the same thing,” Jayden told him.
“I practically caught him planting mine.” DeJuan snorted. “I heard noise outside my suite. When I opened the door, he was right there. Of course, he denied everything.”
Shawn looked over at Spike again. His father was still in his face. In fact, Mr. Murcer was yelling so loudly that it was impossible not to overhear.
“You lose today, Spike, and you’re gonna lose TV for a year. I’m going to ground you for the rest of your life. Don’t lose. You understand me? Do not lose!” Mr. Murcer glared at his son.
“Yes, sir,” Spike answered quietly.
“Are you wimping out on me, loser? I can’t hear you!”
“Yes, sir!”
Shawn winced. His own father would never talk to him like that. He felt bad for Spike. Very bad, in fact.
Just then, the big bell sounded, calling the contestants to the ring. Michael Cole and Jerry Lawler were again doing the announcing and judging.
“Fifteen minutes from now,” Cole intoned with gravity, “the WWE Universe will know the identities of our two SuperFan finalists. Those two will return at four this afternoon, in front of a live audience, to determine our very first SuperFan! Clear the ring except for the contestants, please.”
A male voice rang out from ringside, sharp and scary. “Kill ’em, Spike!”
Spike’s father. Shawn and Jayden shared a doubtful look as they stood near each other in the ring with Spike by the far corner. Kill ’em? Wasn’t that a little bit extreme?
Without any warning, or even a bell sounding, the ring started to bounce crazily. All three kids were caught by surprise. A split-second later, Shawn found himself on his butt. He bounced to his feet as Rey called encouragement. “Balance, Shawn. Balance! Just like on the stadium bleachers!”
Even though Shawn lost his footing several times, he didn’t panic because the same
thing was happening to Spike and Jayden. In fact, Spike was having the hardest time with it as Punk and his father bellowed useless instructions. Spike kept wiping out. Shawn, meanwhile, found that if he let his knees absorb the shock, he could maintain his footing. Jayden discovered the same trick.
Spike didn’t.
Michael Cole called the action. “Shawn is almost there. Five seconds left for Shawn! Ten seconds left for Jayden! Spike goes down again! Shawn’s done! Go do your poster, Shawn! Jayden, five seconds. Three, two, one, go!”
Shawn and Jayden’s cheering sections hollered as the two friends got to work. Shawn knew what he was going to make: a WrestleMania poster featuring a mask like the one Rey had promised him for the finals. He started sketching and then glanced to his right, where Jayden was drawing happily with a glitter marker and fast-drying red paint.
“Spike’s going down!” she called with glee as Spike finally got the go-ahead to start on his poster.
“I know!” Shawn did the lettering, then filled in the mask.
“Looking good, Picasso,” Rey commented. Shawn had been concentrating so hard that he hadn’t even noticed his mentor behind him. “Looking great!”
“One minute, Shawn! One minute, ten seconds, Jayden. Four minutes, Spike!”
Jerry Lawler announced the update. Shawn didn’t even need the whole minute. A bit of gold paint on the mask, and he was done with thirty seconds to spare. He marched his poster to Cole and Lawler. Then he ran over to his rooting section. His brother and Alex pounded him happily on the back and his mother beamed.
“You did great!” Alex was psyched. “You’re going through for sure!”
“What a surprise!” Michael Cole shouted, getting their attention. “He can’t possibly be finished. But here comes Spike!”
Here comes Spike? How was that possible?
However it was possible, it was happening, even though Spike had only been working for less than a minute. Yet Spike was trotting confidently past Jayden, who was still hard at—
“Hey! Watch it! Spike! You jerk!”
Jayden howled. Then she leaped to her feet and pointed an accusing finger at Spike, who was still making his way toward Cole and Lawler. “He ruined my poster! He ruined my poster!”
Jayden was close to tears. Shawn dashed over to Jayden and saw what had happened: A huge container of black paint had somehow spilled, obliterating her artwork. Meanwhile, Spike was handing his own poster—a sloppy sign that read “WrestleMania XXVII” to the two MCs.
“He ruined my poster!” Jayden shouted again.
“No, I didn’t!” Spike defended himself as Peter came running out of the audience.
“I saw everything!” Peter yelled. Shawn had never seen his brother so angry. “You kicked paint on her poster.”
“Get outta here, squirt!” Spike demanded. “Whoever you are!”
“I’m Shawn’s brother, and I saw you cheat. Cheater! Cheater!” Peter turned to Michael Cole. “I saw Spike cheat. Kick him out!”
“Yeah!” Spike scoffed. “Like you’re not doing this because of your brother!”
A huge argument ensued. Natalya jumped in on Jayden’s behalf. So did Rey. For a solid minute, they argued with Cole. Meanwhile, Spike moved to stand with his father and CM Punk, and all of them tried to suppress big grins.
At first, Cole claimed that there was nothing he could do, since he hadn’t seen Spike do anything wrong.
“Look at the videotape!” Natalya insisted.
Cole agreed to check the tape. However, it turned out that the cameraman closest to Jayden had a malfunctioning camera. The video was pure snow. Absolutely useless. When Jayden heard this, she howled again. “But Shawn’s brother saw everything!”
“Listen to her! I saw everything!” Peter pushed toward Michael Cole.
That’s when CM Punk stepped between Peter and the MC. There was no visual proof. Peter was biased. Jayden could have dumped paint on her own poster because it wasn’t any good. Spike turned in a poster, while Jayden never did. Bottom line: Cole needed to declare Spike the second finalist.
Cole and Jerry Lawler conferred. Then Cole stepped forward.
“The winner of the second SuperFan challenge: Shawn Reynolds of Columbia, Missouri. The runner-up, joining Shawn in the Ultimate SuperFan Challenge today at four o’clock . . . Spike Murcer!”
Shawn looked at Jayden. She was bawling in Natalya’s arms. He glanced at Spike, again with his father and CM Punk. They were laughing. “Good job,” Shawn heard Spike’s father exclaim. “It’s not how you play the game, it’s whether you win or lose!”
Shawn’s eyes narrowed to angry slits. He felt bad that Spike had a father with an attitude like that. But he felt worse that Jayden had been cheated.
His brother edged up to him. “Shawn, you’ve gotta take this cheater. You have to.”
Shawn swallowed hard. His brother was right. He had to beat Spike in the final.
But how? The guy would do absolutely anything to win.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hi, Shawn!
You are really cute, and in about five years I hope that you will be my boyfriend.
Alicia
Shawn,
I am so angry for Jayden. I know there is no proof that Spike ruined her poster, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t do it P.S. I read Tom Sawyer, too.
Jose
The WWE had set up a place on its website where fans could send positive e-mails to the competitors. Just after lunch, Shawn sat at the suite’s computer, flanked by Jayden and Peter to his left and DeJuan and Alex to his right. While the grown-ups ate in the dining room, the kids checked out some of the hundreds of e-mails.
“Want to answer Jose?” Shawn asked Jayden.
“He wrote to you. You do it,” she suggested.
“Tell him you think that Jayden got ripped off!” Alex urged. “And that you’re going to rip Spike—”
“Got it.” Shawn turned his attention to the keyboard.
Jose,
Like my friend Alex says, I think Jayden got ripped off. I talked to Rey, and he said the best thing I could do would be to beat Spike fair and square. I will never cheat the way that Spike did. That’s not winning. Thank you for being my fan.
Shawn Reynolds
He typed his last name and looked back at his friends. “How’s that?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “I think you’re too nice.”
“Alex is right. Spike could do it again. What if he does?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know.” Shawn pushed back from the keyboard.
Jayden slapped her hands on her thighs. “I should have expected him to try something. I think you need to plan, Shawn.”
“Plan?” Shawn was frustrated. “How? I don’t even know what the last event is going to be!”
“Well, you know some things,” DeJuan corrected. “You gotta figure that the book is going to be involved.”
“And you know the crowd is going to be rooting for you,” Jayden said.
Jayden was right. Shawn probably would have the audience behind him. How big an audience there’d be, he wasn’t sure. The WWE offered free tickets to several thousand young fans. The thought of all those people watching him made Shawn wince. Yes, he’d played his guitar for Taylor at the hospital. But that was an audience of one. Shawn remembered the nightmare on the plane and his non-speech at the assembly. Would he freeze up, unable to move or think? And what if Spike did cheat? Wasn’t the smart thing to do to cheat right back?
Shawn didn’t know the answer to any of these questions. Not a single one.
“Shawn!” His mother called from the living room. “E-mail from your dad!”
Shawn put down Tom Sawyer—he’d been reviewing it one more time——and hustled back out to the computer nook.
“I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” Carla told him. “Read.”
With a sick feeling worse than stage fright, Shawn leaned toward the monitor.
My dear family,
I love you all.
You know the army. When you are asked to go on a mission, you don’t say no. The army has asked me to go on a special mission. I will be traveling alone. In fact, by the time you read this, the mission will be underway. As a result of this mission, I will be unable to watch WrestleMania at my base. I’ll find out the results just as soon as I can. I mean it. I’ll do anything to find out. Shawn, I hope you are not too disappointed by this. I wish you the best of luck. Again, I could not be prouder of you if you were my own son. Hey! You are my own son! Carla and Peter, I love you both. See you all before you know it. I’m right beneath you.
Dad
“You okay?” Carla asked.
Shawn nodded, though he felt shaken. “I guess. I just feel bad for Dad. Does Peter know?”
Carla shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll tell him. Shawn? Your father is coming home. Don’t worry. He’s coming home.”
Carla spoke with conviction. There was something convincing in his mother’s tone. This was Sanford Reynolds they were talking about. He was a highly trained soldier. He’d be okay.
“You go get ready,” his mom instructed. “I understand there’s a little competition this afternoon that one of my kids is part of.”
Shawn pumped his fist in the air as he started down the hallway, trying to show his mother confidence he didn’t quite feel.
There were enough kids milling around outside the Dome to make Shawn’s stomach do a loop-the-loop.
While his family and Alex were taken to a VIP seating area, Rodrigo escorted Shawn to his own locker room to dress and prepare for the finals. His new outfit was gold: gold shorts, a gold and black top, and gold and black running shoes. All good. But one part of his competition outfit was missing. His mask.
“Will I see Rey before I go up?” Shawn asked.
Rodrigo nodded. “Absolutely. He says he’s got something for you.”
Shawn smiled happily. Rey hadn’t forgotten!
Rodrigo stepped out to make a phone call, and Shawn went to the three-quarter-length mirror near the showers to check out his outfit from every angle. He loved how his first name was spelled out in block letters across the rear of his shirt: S-H-A-W-N.
SuperFan Page 7