Fantasy League by Mike Lupica

Author:Mike Lupica
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-08-18T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty

AFTER SUPPER, CHARLIE’S MOM DROPPED him off in town; Anna’s mom did the same with her.

They tried to make things seem the way they always were on a night like this, first going to Cold Stone and then taking their ice cream to the park, crowded on this night, their usual bench taken, having to walk around for a little bit before they found an empty one.

Both of them knowing that things were definitely not the same as they’d always been, probably weren’t going to be anytime soon.

Not exactly the football season I expected, Charlie kept thinking.

Anna said, “I thought I came off very well today, if we’re focusing on the positives.”

“No kidding. Your uncle made it sound as if you practically had to take me by the hand to your grandfather so I could tell him what I thought about Tom Pinkett.”

“Got a problem?” Anna said.

Then she said, “You gonna finish your ice cream?”

Charlie said, “Is that ever a serious question with you?”

She reached over for his cup and spoon and finished what he hadn’t eaten of Oreo Overload. Somehow Anna Bretton seemed to be able to eat all day long and stay skinny. One more mystery about her. Sometimes Charlie thought that what he knew about her wasn’t nearly as interesting as what he didn’t.

“You know what might be the most amazing part of the whole day?” Anna said after she’d tossed Charlie’s cup into a trash bin. “That your mom even let you go to the press conference!”

“That one is on your gramps, totally,” Charlie said. “He can be pretty persuasive, I guess, when he wants to be.”

“My mom says he wants people to think his head is full of the sky half the time; that’s the way she puts it. And I know he can look like a total frail. But the old guy can still get it done.”

On the phone with Charlie’s mom after Charlie had gotten the text from Tom Pinkett, Joe Warren told her that the genie was officially out of the bottle—his words—and that the media wasn’t going away, they knew they had a good thing with the story of the old owner and the seventh grader, and they were going to be like dogs with bones.

He told her that the only way to deal with it was to deal with it head-on, have Charlie make a surprise appearance at the press conference.

Mr. Warren said they might as well just go ahead and put Charlie’s face on the whole thing, so people could stop speculating; the media fed on speculation almost as much as it did on gossip.

“My son will help us set it up” was the way Mr. Warren put it to her. “Then we’ll bring out yours for the big finish.”

Then he spelled out for her what he already had for Charlie, just in different words.

“Why can’t we have some fun with this?” he’d said on the phone. “Can’t a geezer like me do that?”

Then, according to Charlie’s mom, he

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