SuperFan by Jeff Gottesfeld Page A

this a day they’ll never forget!”
    His mother caught his eye with a look that Shawn read as, Do you want me to step in? Shawn shook his head no. His mother talking to the principal for him? Ugh. Way too humiliating. Then, before Shawn knew what was happening, Principal Kwan was beckoning him to his feet. Shawn’s reluctance looked more like modesty than fear, and it inspired more cheers.
    Slowly, he approached the podium. His legs felt like jelly.
    Don’t barf , he told himself.
    Luckily, Shawn didn’t barf. But as Principal Kwan positioned the microphone, he took a couple of deep breaths that quickly turned into gasps. Shawn was sure everyone in the auditorium could hear, and see, the trickles of sweat he felt beading on his forehead.
    His classmates were quiet now. The silence was overwhelming. The faces blurred.
    Form words, Shawn told himself. Remember what Rey told you to say to the media.
    What had Rey told him? He couldn’t remember.
    He heard nervous laughter.
    Say something!
    He tried to say, “Thank you for coming.”
    Nothing came out.
    CLANG-CLANG! CLANG-CLANG! CLANG-CLANG!
    A collective, disappointed “awww” rolled through the auditorium at the sound of the bells that announced the change of classes. Principal Kwan strode to the microphone and eased Shawn to one side. “Students, that’s the end of the assembly. Proceed to your second-period classes.”
    Shawn knew he had been saved by the bell. As his classmates filed out noisily, he also knew that he’d been exactly what Jeff Harrison had called him on the kickball field a few short weeks ago.
    Weenie.

    Undertaker’s entrance music, “The Ministry of Darkness,” blasted through huge speakers as seventy-five thousand WWE fans jammed into the Georgia Dome in Atlanta for WrestleMania. Undertaker was scheduled to wrestle his brother, Kane, in this main event, and Shawn knew it wasn’t going to be a typical match. Not only would the loser have to quit wrestling and never come back, but the loser agreed to be the winner’s towel boy, toilet clean-up dude, and sweat-mopper-upper for the rest of his life. It would be decades of utter humiliation, and the whole WWE Universe knew it.
    Shawn was in Undertaker’s locker room. As SuperFan, he’d get to carry in the championship for Undertaker. He’d been outfitted in a smaller version of Undertaker’s black costume. He loved how it looked on him, but he loved how easily he’d defeated DeJuan, Jayden, and Spike even more. His father was watching on television in Afghanistan. His family and Alex had front-row seats. Could anything be more exciting?
    CLANG-CLANG! Through a speaker hookup, Shawn heard the ring bell sound. Time for the match.
    â€œYou’re up, Shawn! Go get ’em, SuperFan!” People shouted encouragement. Someone pressed the championship into his hands. Shawn raised it over his head, loving the feel of the leather and admiring the glint of the lights off the engraved metal.
    â€œReady, Shawn? Lead me out there !” Undertaker called to him, looking like a human mountain in his robe. Then the lights were flashing, the fog machines were pumping out smoke, and the indoor fireworks were exploding in bursts of white and green.
    â€œMembers of the WWE Universe, please welcome to the Georgia Dome, representing Undertaker, our very first SuperFan, Shawn Reynolds!”
    As seventy-five thousand people rose as one, Shawn walked into the arena, his arms thrust skyward, the championship held high overhead.
    The cheers suddenly stopped. People started pointing. Shawn whirled, thinking that someone might be coming up behind him. Someone like Spike, to try to hurt him the way that CM Punk had hurt Rey Mysterio.
    Nothing. But the cheers had turned to laughter. Rolling waves of laughter rocked the arena. What was so funny? People were laughing so hard, they were pounding their hands and stomping their feet; Shawn