Read Online The Secret Life of a Ping-Pong Wizard by Henry Winkler - Free Book Online Page B

think much of it.
    â€œNo kidding, dude. Did you know that my aunt Eleanor is a five-time shuffleboard champion? Maybe we should fix them up.”
    Frankie, one. Ping-Pong, zero.
    â€œI’m serious, Frankie. He plays with the Ping-Pong champion of Jamaica.”
    â€œNo way!” Frankie laughed. “Jamaica has a Ping-Pong champion?”
    Frankie, two. Ping-Pong, still zero.
    â€œNerd alert! Did somebody just say Ping-Pong? I wouldn’t play that game if you paid me.”
    It was McKelty, who had just finished his turn at handball.
    â€œWhere did you come from, and who asked your opinion, anyway?” Ashley said. She loves to speak her mind to McKelty.
    â€œNo one has to ask me,” McKelty said. “It’s my opinion that Ping-Pong is for subhumans.”
    â€œThen you’re probably great at it,” Ashley said. Frankie cracked up.
    Ashweena, one. McKelty, zero.
    â€œIs that supposed to be funny?” McKelty said. That’s the thing about McKelty. He gets jokes about a year after they’re said.
    â€œPing-Pong doesn’t get much respect here,” Ashley said, “but my relatives back in China are really good at it.”
    â€œThis is New York City, not China,” McKelty said. “China is all the way just past England.”
    â€œMcKelty, don’t you know anything?” Ashley said.
    â€œI know one thing. The only people I’ve ever heard of who play Ping-Pong are senior citizens. And I don’t mean just grandparent-old. I mean old-old.”
    I decided then and there that McKelty would never find out that I played Ping-Pong. Thank goodness I had stashed my paddle in my backpack before I’d come out on the yard.
    â€œIn fact, did you know that Dr. Crumbworthy is a Ping-Pong nut? But when you have nine fingers, that’s all you can play,” McKelty continued.
    â€œI don’t think it’s nice to make fun of someone because he has a disability,” Ashley said. “I think it’s cool that he’s learned to handle all those sharp instruments when he’s missing a fingertip.”
    â€œDon’t remind me. I have to see him this afternoon after school,” McKelty said. “Got to keep the old choppers in shape.”
    How a guy can think that his choppers are in shape when they point in every direction on a compass is amazing to me.
    â€œHey, Hank,” a little voice called from behind us. We all turned around to see Sam Chin, all three feet of him, running toward me holding his Ping-Pong paddle.
    I tried to pretend I didn’t see him. I certainly didn’t want to tell McKelty that I was into Ping-Pong, and Frankie’s cool reaction to the topic was holding me back from telling him and Ashley, too. That was crazy, though. Everyone knows you can’t ignore a kindergartner who’s trying to get your attention.
    â€œYou want to practice playing Ping-Pong with me against the wall?”
    McKelty grinned at me, showing his snaggly tan teeth.
    â€œYou play Ping-Pong, Zip Butt?”
    â€œNo way,” I said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œSure you do, Hank,” Sam chimed in. “Remember last night!”
    â€œWhat’s the little dude talking about?” Frankie asked, giving me a funny look.
    â€œHey, Sam, I just happen to have a fresh, chocolate Ding Dong that I traded a granola bar for,” I said. “It’s got your name written all over it.”
    â€œIt does?”
    â€œYeah, come with me. I’ll show you.”
    I grabbed Sam’s hand and nearly pulled him right out of his shirt. I couldn’t get him away from that group fast enough. My heart was pounding. The last thing I wanted was for McKelty to discover my secret life as a Ping-Pong wizard. I’d hear about that for the rest of my life, and then some.
    â€œYou’ve gotta promise me, Sam, to never say that we play Ping-Pong together,” I whispered