SuperFan by Jeff Gottesfeld Read Free Book Online Page A

they pick you? I know! Because they wanted two boys and two girls!” Jeff pranced around the outfield like a fashion model. “Spike Murcer’s going to smush you!”
    Shawn stewed. He didn’t even like to think about Spike Murcer, who’d recently posted a whole series of videos about himself and his greatness on the WWE website. When was Mr. Marotta gonna pitch? As usual, Shawn had been the last one picked when sides were chosen. Wouldn’t it feel great to smash one way over Jeff Harrison’s annoying head? Maybe he could pretend that Jeff was Spike.
    Could he do it? After all these workouts, he was stronger. But feeling stronger and smacking one past the pitcher’s mound were two different things.
    As if to highlight that fact, Jeff danced in from left field until he stood with the shortstop. “Weenie Boy SuperFraud can’t kick it over an anthill!”
    More mean laughter. Meanwhile, Shawn’s teammates were silent. Apparently they didn’t have much confidence in Shawn, either.
    Finally, Mr. Marotta came to the mound. “Ready, Shawn?”
    â€œBring it,” Shawn told him. “And no slow balls.”
    Shawn knew that even with his training, if he were going to send one into the outfield, the pitch would have to come with pace. Mr. Marotta fired a speedy roll along the ground. Shawn zeroed in on it and kicked as hard as he could.
    He missed. Just like in Jeff’s obnoxious nurseryrhyme chant, he promptly fell down. Jeff’s team howled with laughter, and Jeff did a dead-on imitation of Shawn’s wipeout.
    â€œ Ashes, ashes, Shawnie falled-ed down ! ” Jeff chortled.
    â€œOne more strike, Shawn,” Mr. Marotta reminded him as the catcher threw the ball back.
    â€œSame thing.” Shawn was grim.
    â€œIf you say so.” Mr. Marotta rolled the ball toward Shawn again, maybe even faster.
    Shawn glanced at Jeff Harrison, who was right behind the shortstop, pretending to be asleep. Man! How good it would feel if . . .
    With three running steps, Shawn swung with his right foot, trying to angle his kick toward left field.
    Boom!
    All those stadium steps paid off. The rubber ball exploded off his foot, heading toward left field like a red rocket. By the time Jeff Harrison figured out what was going on, the ball was heading for the fence. He turned and gave chase as Shawn’s teammates screamed at him, “Run, Shawn, run!”
    Shawn was in such shock that he hadn’t budged from the batter’s box. With a start, he bolted toward first base.
    â€œRun, Shawn!” his teammates urged. As Shawn rounded first and headed toward second, he could see that Jeff was only now approaching the ball. “Run!”
    Shawn bore in on third. Jeff fired the ball to the third baseman. Safe! Shawn came in standing up as his teammates shouted with glee.
    It was amazing. He’d never made so much as a single before. If he’d run the moment he’d kicked it, he would have had a home run. If only Alex were in his gym class and could have seen this. Well he’d have to tell him all about it.
    Mr. Marotta called out approvingly, “Nice shot, Shawn!”
    â€œThanks!” Shawn called back, still a little dazed.
    â€œTotal luck! He couldn’t do it again in a million years!” Jeff scoffed and kicked at the dirt.
    Shawn didn’t know whether what Jeff said was true or not, but it didn’t matter. He’d done it once, right here, right now. It felt great. If this was what SuperFan was doing for him, he was loving it.

    â€œShow of hands—how many of you have finished your book for your book report? Oral reports begin next Friday! Has anyone finished yet?” Mrs. Wolfenbarger stared at her class.
    Shawn looked around the English 7-A classroom. He was on his fourth reading of Tom Sawyer, but if no one else was going to raise their hand, he sure wouldn’t.
    Not a hand went up.
    â€œNo one?” Mrs.