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

I’ll get the white pizza with spinach and garlic,” I said, trying to avoid the Ping-Pong topic.
    We stopped into Harvey’s, which was right on our way. I got a slice of the white pizza with a 7UP, and Papa Pete got pepperoni with a root beer. We walked the three blocks up to 81st Street in silence, just enjoying our pizza and sipping our drinks.
    Papa Pete waited until I had finished my slice before he spoke again. “I’m waiting,” he said.
    â€œI know you are, Papa Pete,” I answered. “This Ping-Pong thing has gotten pretty complicated all of a sudden. Nick McKelty thinks only old people and subhuman nerds play Ping-Pong.”
    â€œWhich is why you wanted your dentist to keep it a secret.”
    Boy, Papa Pete is good at figuring things out. He’d put the whole thing together just like that.
    â€œI get teased enough,” I said. “I don’t need more.”
    â€œNo one needs to be teased,” Papa Pete said. “But you can’t keep what you do a secret. Especially if you enjoy it.”
    â€œYeah, and there’s something else, too,” I said. “I feel kind of bad saying this.”
    â€œBetter out than in,” Papa Pete said. “Let it rip.”
    â€œI haven’t even told Frankie or Ashley that I’m playing Ping-Pong,” I said. “I was going to, but now I don’t want to.”
    â€œBecause you’re ashamed?”
    â€œWell, I kind of hinted around to Frankie that I was thinking of taking it up.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd he compared it to his aunt Eleanor playing shuffleboard.”
    â€œFrankie’s your friend, Hankie. He’ll learn to respect what you choose to do.”
    â€œThere’s something else. I keep thinking that if I tell Ashley and Frankie, then they’ll want to play, too.”
    â€œAnd that wouldn’t be fun?”
    â€œIt’s just that they’re both such good athletes. They’d pick up a paddle and be great and leave me in the dust. I’d like something that I’m good at all by myself.”
    Papa Pete nodded but didn’t say anything.
    â€œDoes it make me a terrible person for thinking these things?”
    â€œNo, it just makes you a person.”
    â€œSo would it be all right to keep my secret Ping-Pong life a secret for a while?”
    â€œThat’s up to you, Hankie. My lips are sealed.”
    By then, we had reached the Ping-Pong Emporium. Papa Pete held the door open for me. As I went inside, I was hit by a chorus of “Hi, Hank.” There they all were: Winston Chin, Sammy Chin, Maurice, and Niko, the guy in the wheelchair. They’d all remembered my name.
    And not only that, they were asking if I wanted to play. They weren’t telling me to take a knee and put on my game face and sit on the bench or wait my turn or set up the cones. They were just asking me to play.
    I waved to them all, got out my paddle, and joined a rally going on at one of the tables.
    Wow, suddenly I knew why everybody loves to play sports.
    It’s fun.

CHAPTER 21
    FOR THE NEXT WEEK AND A HALF, Papa Pete picked me up every day after school and we raced directly to the Ping-Pong Emporium. Okay, the truth is, we didn’t race directly there, we stopped first at Harvey’s to get a slice of pizza. But understand, this wasn’t just your regular social slice of pizza. We were fueling up for a workout. When you play Ping-Pong, you need energy and focus and reflexes. It just so happens that pizza gives you all those things. And it tastes great, too.
    As each day passed, I got better and better. I didn’t notice it at first. I was just trying to hit the ball back and forth and feel like one of the guys. I played with Papa Pete and Sammy Chin. They were both so patient when I kept hitting the ball off the table. Everyone taught me something different. Mr. Chin, who said I could call him Winston, showed me footwork so I didn’t keep