SuperFan (12 page)

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.

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?”

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.

“Do you know the answer, Shawn?” Matt asked sharply. “Or is Spike our winner?”

Shawn waited longer, making Spike and Matt believe that he was stuck.

“Three seconds, Shawn,” Matt warned as the Dome fell silent.

“Oh. Oh my gosh. I'm not sure.” Shawn made himself sound lost and defeated.

One more peek at Spike. His opponent could practically taste victory.

“Guess,” Matt urged.

Shawn made his voice small as if anticipating defeat. “Okay. I'll take a guess. It ended with a chapter called ‘Conclusion,' where Mr. Twain told the readers that he would save more of the story for later.”

Striker paused and swallowed loudly into the mic. The crowd held their breaths. “Shawn Reynolds . . . that is correct!”

Shawn took another look at Spike, who was slumping on his stool, angry that Shawn had known the answer. But Shawn could detect something else there, too—was there a little respect in Spike's eyes?

“The competition is not over!” Matt reminded the cheering crowd. “Since both SuperFan finalists are such experts on
Tom Sawyer
, we now move to a tiebreaking question about WWE history. Mr. McMahon?”

Mr. McMahon took the microphone. “I am going to ask both boys one question. The first to answer it correctly shall be our SuperFan. Shawn? Spike?”

Spike was ready. Shawn was ready. The crowd was ready.

“Spike and Shawn, everyone knows that
SmackDown
moved to the Syfy network last October. That first night on Syfy, your mentors, Rey Mysterio and CM Punk, each competed. Spike, who did Punk fight? Shawn, who did Rey fight? And what was the result?”

Shawn racked his brains. He hadn't been a WWE fan last October. In fact, he barely knew what
SmackDown
was last October. What kind of question is that? It hadn't been in his briefing notebook. How could he possibly—

Spike's hand flashed in the air.

“That first broadcast on Syfy? It took place on October 1, 2010. Punk and Rey fought each other!” Spike's voice was triumphant.

“And who won?” Mr. McMahon prompted with a big smile on his face.

“CM Punk! Of course!”

The crowd was silent. Stunned even. After all the rooting for Shawn, it seemed like Spike had just nailed down the SuperFan crown.

Mr. McMahon smiled even more broadly. “Spike Murcer. Your answer is . . . incorrect!”

“What!? NO!!!” everyone heard Spike's father exclaim angrily. Even Mr. McMahon. He turned to the audience, found Mr. Murcer, and scowled.

“There's enough pressure on these boys! Have a little respect. Thank you.”

The crowd applauded loudly.

The moment gave Shawn a chance to think. Punk and Rey hadn't fought each other. Who could Rey have fought, then? Jack Swagger? Kane? Edge? He closed his eyes. He had the thinnest memory of someone saying something to him once about that first night on Syfy. Who? Rey? His father?

His father! Yes! Way back at the
Raw
show in St. Louis!

Last October I watched Rey in this amazing match against Alberto Del Rio on the night that
SmackDown
moved over to the Syfy network. He pulled that one out. Maybe he can do it again.

“Shawn? Any ideas?” Mr. McMahon prompted.

“I think . . . I think that Rey fought Alberto Del Rio. And he beat him.”

Again, Mr. McMahon hesitated. Then . . .

“Shawn? . . . That's correct! You're our SuperFan!”

Mr. McMahon got no further. The place went wild. Fireworks, smoke, music.

Shawn had won. He had actually won!

Dear Dad,

I won! I still can't believe it. I am thinking about you every minute. Mom says that when you come home to America, we will have a big party at the house and watch all the SuperFan videos from start to finish. I want to say thank you for finding those tickets to
Raw
for Peter's birthday. If it weren't for that, I would never have entered.

There are only two things that would make this more perfect than it is. One would be if I could get my friend Taylor in the hospital a ticket to WrestleMania tomorrow. He doesn't know yet, but I'm working on that.

The other would be if you could be here, too.

Love,

Shawn

Shawn pressed send. He hoped his dad could read the e-mail soon.

“Shawn, I know you sort of met the champ yesterday, but you weren't SuperFan yesterday. Shawn, meet the champ, John Cena. Cena? Meet the first SuperFan, Shawn Reynolds. And Cena? Be glad you're not meeting me today in the ring!”

It was the next afternoon, the Sunday afternoon of WrestleMania. Shawn, Rey—mostly recovered from Punk's surprise attack from the day before, but still walking with a bit of a limp—and John Cena were together in the champions' locker room, while three floors above, Kid Rock was warming up the sold-out crowd.

As Shawn watched, Cena pulled on his famous purple jersey and tugged on his baseball cap. Later, he'd tangle with Sheamus in a special Casket Match, where victory could only come when one Superstar closed the other Superstar inside a ringside coffin. Shawn would accompany Cena to the ring and carry in his championship.

Cena shook hands with Shawn. “I couldn't say this yesterday, but I was really hoping you would win.”

“Thank you.” Shawn suddenly felt shy. “I . . . I hope you win, too.”

Rey puffed up his chest. “Cena and Sheamus are both just lucky my ankle is bum. I'd take them both on.”

“A two-on-one handicap match?” Cena looked at Rey cockeyed. “You're good, Mysterio. But you wouldn't have a chance against me, Sheamus or no Sheamus. Right, Shawn?”

Yikes. Shawn loved John Cena. But he loved Rey even more.

Shawn waggled his head. “It depends on whether there's a quiz about
Tom Sawyer
.”

The two Superstars were silent for a moment. Then they both burst out laughing.

“Nice dodge, Shawn-a-reeno,” Cena sputtered. “Nice dodge.”

There was loud knocking at the door.

“Come on in,” Cena called.

It was Rodrigo, dressed in his black suit with his WWE credential dangling from his neck. “Hey, John and Rey. Do you have time to meet three very important friends of the SuperFan?”

The Superstars said sure—Shawn had cleared this visit beforehand—and Rodrigo opened the door wide. A moment later, an awestruck Taylor rolled into the locker room with his dad pushing the wheelchair. They were accompanied by the goateed nurse, Clarence.

“Welcome, Taylor. Welcome!” Rey and John met the visitors halfway. “I'm Rey Mysterio. This is John Cena. We're so glad you're here.”

“I'm so glad I'm here, too!” Taylor exclaimed.

Shawn was psyched. The night before he'd talked by phone with Taylor's doctors. At first, they were adamant that Taylor not leave the hospital.

“How about if a nurse came with him?” Shawn asked. “To keep him safe?”

When the doctors had said that might be acceptable, Shawn called Rey. Rey phoned WWE headquarters, and three complimentary tickets and transport to the Dome were arranged. When he brought Taylor up to speed on his plan, his younger friend had nearly fainted.