“Hey! They’ve got the wrong name! It should say W-E-E-N-I-E!”
Oh no. Spike. Somehow he’d gotten into the locker room.
Spike marched over and got in Shawn’s face. His all-black outfit looked scary. “I’ve got a great idea, Weenie. Why don’t we settle this SuperFan thing before we even go upstairs? You and me. One fall. Loser leaves town. Right here, right now!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Right here,” Spike repeated. “Right now. Loser leaves town. One fall. You in, Weenie?”
Shawn took a quick look around, hoping that someone—anyone!—would come to his rescue. There was no one. He knew that even if he didn’t agree to Spike’s ridiculous suggestion that they wrestle “right here, right now. Loser leaves town,” Spike could hurt him in a way that would render the finals meaningless.
How had the WWE let this guy into the competition, anyway?
“You in, Weenie? Right here, right now? Loser leaves town?”
“I think you need to have someone else write your lines,” Shawn fired back courageously. “You keep repeating yourself.”
Maybe it was the wrong approach, making Spike mad, but Shawn was glad that he was finally standing up for himself. Then he thought about what he had seen that morning, with Spike being chewed out by his own father. How much of Spike was Spike, and how much was a reaction to a father who would treat him that way?
Shawn decided to find out. Gently.
“You know, Spike. I think you’re a great competitor.”
“I’m the great competitor. You’re the weenie.”
Spike was obviously not flattered. Shawn pressed on, though. “You’re in the finals. You must be under a lot of . . . a lot of pressure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I saw you with your father. He really wants you to win. I don’t know if that makes it easier or harder.”
“Well,” Spike mimicked, “it’s a lot more than I can say for your dad. He didn’t even bother to come!”
Shawn exploded with fury. No one busted on his dad and got away with it. “That’s because he’s over in Afghanistan!”
Spike was silent. Thoughtful even. “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know?” Shawn asked, marginally less angry. “Come on. You had to know! It was all over my video.”
“My dad wouldn’t let me watch. He wanted me to be focused and promote myself.” Shawn rubbed his chin. “Your dad’s in Afghanistan, huh? That’s gotta be rough.”
It was almost like Spike was being human. Almost. Then his opponent hardened.
“Well, Weenie, it’s been nice chatting and all that. But my dad’s gonna lose his cookies if I don’t win, and I don’t wanna be around for that. Ready to go, right now? Let’s do it!”
Spike made a quick move toward Shawn, and Shawn put up his hands. He couldn’t fight Spike off, but maybe he could buy some time. Just as Shawn felt Spike’s fingers lock on his shoulders, a deep adult voice boomed.
“Spike Murcer! What are you doing?”
It was Rey.
Spike whirled, all innocence. “I was just wishing Shawn good luck.”
In five quick strides, Rey joined them. He wore a wrestling outfit in the same colors as Shawn’s competition clothes, plus a mask. “Spike Murcer, I don’t believe it for a minute. Get your sorry self out of my face. Go!”
There was no hesitation. Spike turned and ran out of the locker room.
“What was that about?” Rey demanded.
“He wanted to wrestle me right here for the title.”
Rey shook his head sadly. “It’s because of that loco father of his.”
“You saw them this morning?”
“Everyone saw. And heard. I feel for the kid, I really do.” Then Rey smiled. “But not so much that I don’t want you to win. How do you feel?”
Shawn stepped out from between the mirrors. “Scared.”
“Scared?” Rey scoffed. “Of Spike? Spike should be scared of you!”
“There are all those kids out there! And people are watching on television!” Shawn slumped on one of the locker room benches.
Rey nodded knowingly. “Ah. I got it. Stage fright. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t want you to think I was a weenie.” Shawn could barely look at Rey.
“Come on.” Rey helped Shawn up. “And no, I haven’t forgotten about your mask.”
Together, they left the locker room and took an escalator to the main level of the arena. The closer they came to the Superstars’ entrance, the easier it was to hear the buzz of the crowd.
“That sound make you nervous?” Rey asked.
“Um . . . yes. Why are you doing this? It makes me want to barf!” If Spike had shown up right then and asked him to wrestle for the SuperFan title, Shawn would have thrown himself down and tapped out.
“That’s the idea.” Rey’s voice was grim. “Feel sick.”
What? Feel sick? Why does Rey want me to feel sick?
“I know what you’re feeling. You’ve got all these hopes riding on you. You feel sure you can’t be as good as people want you to be. You get stage fright? Fine, Shawn. Feel it! It’s not gonna kill you! Feel it!!” Rey was practically shouting now.
“I am feeling it!” Shawn yelled.
“Feel it more!”
“I can’t feel it more!”
“It’s not gonna kill you,” Rey pressed. “Feel it more!”
“I can’t!”
“Good,” Rey said softly. “Now feel it less.”
It was the strangest thing. Shawn had heard all kinds of things about stage fright. How he should picture his audience in their underwear. How he should go to a happy place in his mind. How he should pretend he was dreaming. None of it worked. None of it, that is, until Rey Mysterio told him not to fight it, but to feel it.
Rey looked at him closely. “How you doing?”
“I’m . . . better.” Shawn looked up at his mentor with thanks in his eyes.
“Good. Then put this on. Wait. Let me do it.” Rey found Shawn’s mask in his pocket and positioned it on Shawn’s head. “You look awesome, my man. I can’t wait for them to see you.”
He was straightening his mask when Spike and Punk reached them.
“Nice mask, Weenie. Too ugly to be seen in public?” Spike was his usual charming self.
Shawn smiled. He was not going to get psyched out.
“Boys and girls of Atlanta: Are you ready for the Ultimate SuperFan Challenge?”
The crowd cheered the public address by the announcer.
Finally, the moment had come. Shawn didn’t know whether he’d win or lose, but he knew he’d do the very best he could. Without cheating. And hopefully without stage fright.
Would that be enough to take him to victory? He’d find out very, very soon.
CHAPTER NINENTEEN
As soon as the crowd saw Shawn in the mask that Rey had given him, they started chanting. “Shawn, Shawn, Shawn, Shawn!”
“Show them you hear ’em,” Rey advised. “They want your love.”
Shawn waved to the crowd all the way to the ring. He saw his family and Alex sitting with Jayden and DeJuan and their families. All were on their feet cheering. Peter was standing on his chair.
Just before Shawn climbed in the ring, he thought of Taylor and the other kids at the hospital watching on streaming video. He turned to the nearest TV camera, mouthed “Hi, Taylor!” and gave a little wave.
In the ring, Rey and Shawn were directed to one corner. Spike and CM Punk went to the other. Spike’s father was already shouting rude instructions at his son from ringside.
Mr. McMahon himself handled the announcing duties for the finale. “Welcome to the Ultimate SuperFan Challenge! We have two worthy competitors on hand. One will be our winner. The other, the runner-up, who will step into the role of SuperFan if the winner should be unable to continue for any reason. And now, let’s welcome a very special guest!”
The Superstars’ ent
rance lit up and the audience roared as “The Time Is Now” played. Then John Cena, wearing street clothes but carrying the championship and a mic, ran through the smoke and planted himself in the entryway. After a prolonged ovation, he climbed in the ring.
“I’ll keep this short and sweet,” Cena announced. “Just like I’m going to do to Sheamus tomorrow!”
The crowd erupted again. The rivalry between Sheamus and Cena had all the intensity of the feud between Rey and CM Punk.
“One of these two young men will be your SuperFan. He will earn a college scholarship. He will represent the future of the WWE Universe. And he will carry in my championship!”
Shawn stood with his hands on the ropes and swallowed hard. He felt the familiar clutch of fright at the notion that he might enter this Dome tomorrow with Cena.
“Feel it,” he muttered to himself. “Feel it.”
Cena stepped away so Mr. McMahon could explain the rules for the final event. The first part would be a test of strength—a tug-of-war. Then would come a test of endurance, where each contestant would stand on a narrow platform wide enough for just one foot. The first contestant to fall would lose. The third part would be a test about Tom Sawyer. The tiebreaker, if needed, would be a quiz about WWE knowledge.
Shawn hoped it wouldn’t get that far.
“Would the finalists and their mentors come to the center, please?”
The “Shawn, Shawn!” chant began again as the competitors and their Superstar mentors joined Cena and Mr. McMahon in the ring. Cena looked right at Spike. “I’m watching you.”
“Maybe you need to watch me, instead,” Punk countered.
Without any warning, Punk leaped past Cena, grabbed Rey by the shoulders, and rolled him toward the far corner. Rey was stunned by the sudden attack but countered quickly with fast forearms to Punk’s chest and jaw. As Cena and Mr. McMahon ushered the boys to safety, Punk bodyslammed Rey to the mat.
Shawn felt sure that Cena and Mr. McMahon would break up the impromptu battle, but they had clearly decided to let the Superstars do their thing.
“Come on, Rey!” Shawn bellowed at his mentor. “Wrestle smart!”
Rey bounced up, climbed to the top rope, sprang off it, and came down squarely on Punk’s chest. He moved in for the pin, even though there was no referee. Instead, the crowd counted. “One! Two!”
Punk kicked out. Then he flipped Rey on his stomach, grabbed Rey’s ankles, and pulled. The stress on Rey’s back and tender ankle was tremendous. Shawn saw how Rey was struggling.
“Tap out!” Shawn screamed, not wanting Rey to get hurt again.
But Rey didn’t tap out. Not right away, anyway. He struggled to escape. But it was no use. Finally he tapped the mat, indicating that he was submitting.
Punk let go . . . and kicked Rey’s bad ankle.
Rey bellowed in agony. Punk strutted away after exchanging a high-five with Spike.
Shawn rushed to help Rey. But there was nothing he could do except watch as his mentor squirmed with pain on the canvas.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The paramedics insisted on taking Rey to the hospital. Mr. McMahon allowed Shawn to accompany him as far as the Superstars’ entrance.
“I know I can’t be here for you,” Rey told Shawn. “But my work is done. It’s in your hands now. Show them what you can do!”
Shawn couldn’t speak. The idea of competing without Rey in his corner was frightening.
John Cena had come down the Superstars’ entrance path near Shawn and Rey. “You ready, Shawn?”
“How can I do this without Rey?” Shawn managed.
“Because Spike’s going to have to do it without Punk,” Cena reported. “Mr. McMahon sent him back to the hotel.”
The “Shawn, Shawn!” chant started anew.
Rey smiled through his pain. “There are four thousand kids with you. Get out there, Shawn.”
Knowing Punk was gone made it easier. Shawn and Cena returned to the ring, where Spike waited with Mr. McMahon. Two WWE aides had painted a line down the middle of the ring and brought in the tug-of-war rope. Mr. McMahon explained that the first boy to pull the other over the line would win this part of the competition.
Shawn and Spike were directed to opposite sides. Shawn wrapped the rope around his waist. Spike did the same.
CLANG! The bell rang, starting the tug-of-war. Shawn felt a mighty pull as Spike leaned into the rope.
It was the moment that Shawn had been waiting for. He let go of the rope. With no resistance, Spike tumbled clumsily backward and landed on his butt. The crowd laughed uproariously.
“You win!” Shawn stepped over the center line with satisfaction. No way he could have beaten Spike Murcer in a tug-of-war, so he’d saved his strength for the next round.
Shawn heard Peter. “Smart, Shawn! Now, dust him!”
Mr. McMahon took the mic as two workers carried the narrow platforms for the next part of the competition into the ring and placed them five feet apart. “Winner of the first round, Spike Murcer! If Spike wins this next round, he will become our SuperFan! If Shawn wins, we move to round three. Contestants, ascend your platforms!”
Shawn climbed the two-foot-high platform easily and balanced on his left foot. Spike did the same.
“Spike, ready?” Mr. McMahon asked.
Spike nodded. “Ready for the Masked Weenie to lose!”
“Shawn, ready?”
Shawn readjusted his mask. “Let’s go.”
CLANG! The second challenge was underway. In typical WWE fashion, it wasn’t nearly as simple as it seemed.
For the first few minutes, all both boys had to do was maintain their balance. That was no problem. Then the WWE upped the stakes. Workers brought in buckets of ice water and flung the water at the contestants. The first splash made Shawn sway badly. The crowd implored him to hold on. Ten minutes passed, with a fresh bucket of water every minute. Fifteen minutes, and five more buckets. What had been simple at the beginning turned very difficult.
Then it got worse. Giant fans were set up in the ring. When they switched on, Shawn and Spike were blasted with freezing gusts of wind. How much longer could Shawn hold out? A minute? Two?
“Thirty seconds,” he told himself. “Start with thirty seconds. One, two . . .”
But it didn’t take that long. What it took was a sneeze, caused by the wind in Spike’s face. The laws of physics were against him. First came the sneeze, then his scream of dismay, and then Spike fell from his platform.
The place went crazy.
“Shawn, Shawn, Shawn!” The chant started again.
As the boys were ushered into a private area to dry off and change, and the water was squeegeed off the canvas, Mr. McMahon talked to the crowd. “Boys and girls and WWE Universe at home,” Mr. McMahon announced. “Congratulations to Shawn Reynolds, winner of our second round! Congrats to these two great competitors!”
When Shawn and Spike reemerged, two stools were already in the ring. Shawn sat in the one to the left, facing his family.
Cena took over the announcing duties. “The WWE is committed to helping kids become great readers. That’s because readers are leaders. Each of our contestants was asked to read Mark Twain’s novel, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. For this last, deciding section of the competition, we’ll test their knowledge. And asking the questions? You know him from SmackDown and NXT. He’s a former Superstar, a former high school teacher, and one of our favorite broadcasters: Matt Striker!”
Shawn had seen Striker on SmackDown; the announcer climbed into the ring wearing a gray suit, white shirt, and maroon tie, all over a hugely muscular build. He took the mic, shook Mr. McMahon’s hand, and then spoke to the competitors with the authoritative voice of a former teacher.
“Shawn and Spike, the rules are simple. It’s sudden death. Get the question right? Go on. Get it wrong? Go home.”
Shawn felt ready. No way could Spike know Tom Sawyer better than he did.
Very quickly, Shawn found out that he was
wrong.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CLANG! The deciding part of the Ultimate SuperFan Challenge was underway.
Striker started with Spike. “Spike, first question. What is the name of Tom Sawyer’s younger brother?”
“Sid!”
“That is correct.” Striker stepped toward Shawn. “Shawn, when Tom and his friends run away from home to fake their own deaths, what is the name of the island where they hide?”
“Jackson’s Island!” Shawn answered immediately.
“That is correct. Spike, what does Tom do for the first time on that island that makes him sick to his stomach?”
“He smokes a pipe!” Spike punched the air, knowing he’d nailed it.
“Correct! Shawn, what is Tom’s excuse for trying to cut school at the beginning of the novel?”
Tougher question, but Shawn knew the answer. “He says his sore toe is mortified!”
“Meaning rotting. Exactly. Good job!”
The “Shawn, Shawn!” chant started again so loudly that Striker had to ask for quiet before he posed his next question. “Spike. When Tom tricks his friends into painting the fence, what color is the paint?”
“White!”
There was a smattering of applause, since Spike had obviously done his homework.
The questions kept coming. Why are Tom and Becky in the cave? As part of a birthday party. What kind of insect does Tom play with in school? A doodlebug. What do the boys find buried in the graveyard? Gold coins.
It was Spike’s turn.
“Spike, at the book’s end, what do Tom and Huck decide they will do together?”
“Give me something tough, Matt,” Spike said confidently. “At the end of the book, Tom and Huck decide to form a gang of robbers.”
Matt nodded his head appreciatively. “Great job!” He turned back to Shawn.
“Shawn. To stay alive in this competition: How does the book end?”
Spike? I owe you one. This is going to be fun.
Shawn knew the answer, but he hesitated and feigned panic. He glanced over at Spike, who half-grinned and half-sneered, praying for Shawn to fail.
SuperFan Page 8
