SuperFan (2 page)

Sanford leaned toward Shawn. “Look at Sheamus. He can't believe Rey even got up!”

Angry that he hadn't been able to finish off Rey, Sheamus tried to hoist Rey, but Rey slipped away and bounded to the top ropes of the corner. The crowd cheered, which got Sheamus even angrier. “Show me what you've got, little man!” he bellowed.

Sanford leaned over to Shawn. “Last October I saw Rey in this amazing match against Alberto Del Rio. It was the night that
SmackDown
moved over to the Syfy network,” Sanford related as Rey and Sheamus crisscrossed off the ropes. “He pulled that one out. Maybe he can do it again.”

“Never heard of Del Rio,” Shawn admitted. “The only Superstar I kinda know is Shawn Michaels, and that's because you guys named me for him. You told me he retired.”

“Why didn't you name me for a Superstar, too?” Peter asked.

“Because your mom wanted to name you for a saint,” Sanford responded.

Peter got the last word in, as usual. “She goofed.”

“Come on down, you runt!” Sheamus taunted Rey loudly enough for Shawn to hear.

Rey came on down. He did a flying forward flip and snapped his legs closed around Sheamus's head. Momentum flipped Sheamus. A millisecond later, the Celtic Warrior's shoulders were pinned to the mat.

“One, two, three!” the crowd chanted as the referee slapped the count on the canvas.

The match was over. The arena went crazy.

If a guy like Rey can beat a huge guy like Sheamus, then maybe there's hope for a little guy like me,
Shawn thought. So many times in his life, especially on the ball field, he'd been made fun of.

Sheamus bounded to his feet, astonished and angry that he had lost. The audience booed again. Shawn assumed they were booing Sheamus, and Rey must have assumed that, too. Neither saw a heavily tattooed Superstar sneak toward the ring holding a red gym bag.

Peter saw him first. “That's CM Punk,” he shouted. “He hates Rey!”

“Rey hates him, too. They've been feuding for years,” Sanford explained to Shawn.

The crowd tried to get Rey to pay attention, but he was too distracted by Sheamus. Punk approached Rey unnoticed. Suddenly, Punk swung the gym bag with all his might, catching Rey on his right ankle. Clearly, there was more in the bag than just workout gear, since Rey crumpled, clutching at his ankle.

The crowd screamed at Punk. He smiled and shook hands with Sheamus to even more boos. Then the two Superstars walked together to the exit.

Silence fell over the arena. Rey slowly tried to stand.

As Shawn watched in dismay, Rey fell back onto the canvas, pounding it in frustration.

“That's so wrong!” Shawn exclaimed to his father.

“You care?” Sanford asked.

“Of course I care!”

“If you care, you're on your way to being part of the WWE Universe,” Sanford declared.

Right then as he looked worriedly at Rey still sprawled on the ring's canvas, Shawn didn't know if his father was right. What he did know was that he hated CM Punk for what he'd just done to a Superstar who'd done nothing to him.

Ten minutes later, Rey was helped from the ring.

“He'll find a way to get back at Punk,” Sanford told Shawn.

“Not if he can't wrestle!” Shawn shot back.

Sanford pointed. In the ring was a huge, dark-haired man in a suit and tie. “Look. That's Vince McMahon with the microphone. He's the head of the whole WWE. Maybe he'll do something.”

Mr. McMahon raised his hand for silence. “What you just witnessed, ladies and gentlemen, was one of the most disgusting acts by a so-called
Superstar
in the storied history of the WWE. CM Punk! You're a punk!”

The crowd roared, then booed as Punk appeared on the huge screen via a feed from the locker room. Shawn wondered what he could possibly say. Would he apologize?

No way.

“Mr. McMahon—Mysterio's been ducking me for months. He deserved it!”

Even Shawn found himself booing until Mr. McMahon quieted the crowd again. “Actually, CM Punk, the joke is on you. Forget WrestleMania. You're not wrestling again until Rey Mysterio says you can. How about that?”

“What?” Punk was livid. “That's not—”

“Bye-bye, Punkie Pie!” Mr. McMahon waved at the irate Punk, and the crowd went wild. Shawn was thrilled. Punk had gotten what he deserved.

Then Mr. McMahon welcomed two more Superstars to the ring.

“The big guy in the purple shirt is John Cena. He holds the WWE Championship,” Sanford explained as the crowd roared. “The other guy is Kofi Kingston. He's really fun to watch.”

Cena took the mic. “There are a lot of young people here tonight. Hello to the next generation of the WWE Universe!”

Cena handed the mic to Kingston, who swept his hand around. “Parents, thanks for bringing your sons and daughters!”

More cheers. Shawn looked at his brother. Peter was beaming. It made Shawn feel great that he'd helped make this evening happen. He wasn't having such a bad time himself, either.

An aide handed Mr. McMahon the WWE Championship. “This is the WWE Championship,” he declared. “Normally, the champ carries this himself. At this WrestleMania, we're doing it differently. It will be carried in by a young person who earns the title of WWE SuperFan. Our first SuperFan will be strong, determined, and dedicated. He—or she!—will represent the young WWE Universe at events in the year to come. He or she will earn a full college scholarship to be placed in a trust until the SuperFan is ready to start school. For more information, visit
WWE.com
, the official website of the WWE!”

Shawn saw that Peter was so excited about the contest that he was practically climbing on their dad. “Can I enter? Please? I'll be the most soporific SuperFan ever!”

Shawn grinned. He knew that
soporific
meant “causing sleep,” not “super-duper,” like his brother intended.

“It depends,” Sanford said gently.

“On what? It depends on what?”

“It depends on the rules.”

Peter thought for a moment. “Yeah. That's right. But if I can, will you let me?”

Sanford gave the all-time parent non-answer answer. “We'll see.” Then he turned to Shawn. “How about you, Shawn? You want to enter?”

Shawn shook his head. “Peter and Alex for sure. But me? Not so much.”

Sanford looked disappointed. “You seem to be having fun tonight.”

It is true,
Shawn thought.
I am having fun. But I am no SuperFan. Not even close.

“Well, you're allowed to change your mind,” Sanford told him.

Shawn nodded. “Got it, Dad.”

If Peter or Alex entered, he'd do everything he could to help them. But tonight was a onetime thing. No way was he joining the WWE Universe.

No way.

The morning after the
Raw
show, Shawn slept until nine. Peter was still asleep when Shawn woke up, got dressed, and quietly left their room.

The Reynolds family lived in a small, white-frame ranch house with just two bedrooms, a living room, dining room, and kitchen. Compared to other kids he knew, the house wasn't much, and Sanford did all the work on it himself. In fact, the day before
Raw,
Shawn had helped his dad repair his bedroom's drop ceiling. Between Carla's librarian job and Sanford's work for the city recreation department, they couldn't exactly afford a contractor.

When he came into the kitchen, Shawn wasn't surprised to see his mom. She had Tuesdays off; it was the day she generally read a few of the new teen books that publishers sent by mail even before the books went on the library shelves. She always said that parents and librarians needed to read everything that their kids were reading.

Today, though, his dad was at the table, too. Weird. Usually Sanford had to be at work by nine. Was he sick? Shawn's folks were just sitting there, cups of coffee and cell phones in front of them.

Shawn suddenly got a terrible feeling. The last time he'd walked into a scene like this, his grandfather in Chicago had passed away overnight. “Is everything okay?”

His father shifted, his eyes weary. “Everyone's healthy. That's the most important thing.”

That was another parent-type non-answer, and Shawn knew it. “Just tell me,” Shawn pleaded. “Tell me what happened!”

His father frowned; his mom put a comforting hand on his arm. “Go ahead, Sanford. It's who you are,” she told him in the Southern drawl she'd never lost since her childhood in North Carolina.

“Okay, Shawn,” his dad agreed. “Then I want you to try to enjoy your vacation.” He pointed toward his cell phone. “You know how even though I'm not a full-time soldier anymore, I'm still part of the army?”

Shawn nodded, though he was starting to get a hollow feeling in his stomach. “That's why you train for a weekend every month. It's called the reserve, right?”

“Right,” Sanford declared. “We reservists are here if the army needs us.” He hesitated. “Well, they decided they needed my unit. We're being deployed. To Afghanistan. I'm sorry.”

“When do you leave?”

“Friday.”

Oh no.
Shawn always knew this was possible, but it had never happened before.

“We'll talk more later,” Carla told Shawn. “I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”

His mother was right. Shawn had plenty of questions. “Will you have to write us letters by hand?”

His dad's laugh was genuine. “It's not like in old movies. I'll be able to e-mail at the base. Maybe even Skype. You'll get so much e-mail you'll be sick of me.”

“I think that's unlikely, Sanford,” his mother commented dryly as tears welled in her steel-gray eyes.

I can't cry. That's not what Dad needs now,
he told himself.

Normally when Shawn was feeling down, he liked to play his guitar. But he didn't want to wake Peter. So he told his folks that he was walking over to Alex's and fled.

Ten minutes later, Shawn was with Alex in the Garcias' lovely family room. Though Alex lived close by, his house was a lot bigger than Shawn's place. Alex's dad ran a printing business while his mom—an amazing cook—did party catering.

The Garcias were upset to learn that Sanford was being deployed. After promising to help Shawn's mom any way that she could, Mrs. Garcia suggested that the best thing for Shawn to do was to keep things as normal as possible for Peter.

“I can help, too!” Alex turned to his mom. “But can we use the computer now? To find out the rules for SuperFan?”

“You haven't looked them up?” Shawn was surprised.

“The Internet's been down since last night! It's the worst! I still can't believe you were there. It was the best
Raw
ever! Rey Mysterio's gonna mess up CM Punk when he comes back. Maybe if I'm the SuperFan, I'll be there for it!” Alex was his usual mass of enthusiasm.

Mrs. Garcia gave Alex permission to log on, so Alex went to the computer while she sat with her laptop on the couch.

“Oh yeah!” Alex exclaimed. “We're back online! Whoa! Check out the WWE website! It's all SuperFan, all the time!”

Shawn peered over Alex's shoulder. Alex wasn't kidding. The WWE home page featured a continuous video replay of Mr. McMahon's big announcement.

“What are the rules?” Shawn asked. “Can Peter enter?”

Alex clicked on a button and shook his head. “Nope. Gotta be between eleven and thirteen.”

Shawn frowned. Peter would be bummed. Well, maybe next year.

“There's an online application a parent needs to submit. They want you to upload a video explaining why you should be chosen. They're bringing four finalists to Atlanta for WrestleMania weekend in April.” Alex turned to Shawn. “It's a total piece of cake! I should definitely win!”

“Can I see that?” Shawn asked.

“Sure! You aren't thinking about entering, are you?”

Alex got up. Shawn leaned in toward the monitor to check out the rules. You needed to be strong, dedicated, and a person who cared about your community. If you were a finalist, you'd be assigned a mentor from WWE who would help you prepare for the finals.

“I'm
so
winning this,” Alex said confidently, not waiting for Shawn's answer.

Shawn barely heard his friend. The first germ of an idea was starting to form.

Nowhere did it say that the SuperFan had to be a lifelong WWE fan. In fact, nowhere did it say you had to be part of the WWE Universe to enter. That didn't mean you'd win, of course, but it didn't stop you from entering.

Huh.

Shawn thought about how his father would soon be in Afghanistan. He was going because it was the right thing to do for his country. Maybe there was something Shawn could do because it was the right thing to do, too. Not for himself. For his dad.

Alex tossed Shawn a white Flip video camera. “Film me. Keep an eye on the clock. This can't be longer than a minute. Not one second longer!”

Shawn nodded. He and Alex had fooled around with the camera a ton of times, so he knew how to use it. “Don't you want to write something out?”

“Nah. I'll wing it. What I miss in prep, I'll make up in enthusiasm. Check it out!” Shawn watched as Alex positioned himself on his bed directly in front of a Rey Mysterio poster—his whole room was a shrine to WWE. Then Alex gave Shawn a sign to start filming.