Free Miracle on 49th Street by Mike Lupica

her, the day she finally admitted that the other dad was made up.
    â€œSometimes I would tell myself,” her mom wrote, “that Josh couldn’t help loving you if he got to know you, even if he’s always thought all the love in the world should be directed at him.”

    She was watching a taped interview with Josh Cameron when the real thing walked back into the room.
    It occurred to her that the Josh she was watching on television was the one she had hoped to meet yesterday, and the one she was still hoping to meet today, even knowing what her mom had told her about him.
    It was the Josh Cameron everyone wanted to know and every kid wanted to be.
    Then, Molly thought, you actually did get to know him.
    He had the unfolded pages of the letter in his hand. He used them to point at the television screen.
    â€œTurn me off,” he said. “Please.”
    â€œOnly because you said please.”
    â€œSarcasm again?”
    Molly said, “I’m trying to quit.”
    â€œI’m actually a good guy,” he said.
    Molly remembered a line Sam liked to use. “Well, you play one on television.”
    â€œI give people the Josh Cameron they want, is all,” he said. “And it’s close enough to the real me.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œAre you going to turn the TV off?”
    Molly did.
    He went and sat down in the big chair across from the sofa, one that had a UConn blue blanket draped over the back of it. Gave her the big smile from the TV Josh, as if Molly were interviewing him.
    â€œI’ve got to hand it to you, kid… Molly ,” he said. “You’re good.”
    â€œYou’ve got to hand what to me?”
    â€œHey, I’m paying you a compliment. You really are good.”
    Molly knew this was most definitely not good.
    Josh said, “This thing sounds just like her. And you obviously remember everything she ever told you about me.”
    Molly looked down and saw she still had the TV remote in her hand. She wanted to point it at him now.
    Get the real Josh to stop talking.
    Instead she said, “You think I wrote the letter.”
    Not even bothering to make it into a question.
    â€œWe both know you did.” He nodded. “You took what she told you and then you came up with this version of things you want to be and voilà ! A Dear Josh letter. Though I don’t come off too dear in all of it.”
    â€œMy mom wrote that letter!”
    Molly was yelling at him and didn’t care.
    â€œRight.”
    â€œShe did!”
    â€œYou say in here that she used to say that the hardest thing for me was being honest with myself,” he said. “Okay. I’ll buy that. Maybe your mom was right about that. But how honest are you being, kiddo?”
    Kiddo now.
    Molly felt both her hands squeezing her knees now, as hard as they could. It was like he wanted her to cry. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
    â€œJerk,” she said.
    â€œNah,” he said. “I’m just keeping it real. One of us has to.”
    â€œWhat’s real is that I’m your daughter,” she said, yelling again. “Why don’t you get that?”
    â€œBecause that’s not real,” he said. “No harm, no foul. You took a shot. I’ve actually got to hand it to you. Not many kids your age would have had the guts to do what you’ve done the last couple of days.”
    Molly didn’t know whether it was because he was making her this mad or because she felt so helpless all of a sudden. Helpless, probably. She’d had a lot of helpless in her life lately. Whatever it was—she couldn’t help herself now—she felt the tears starting to come.
    Even though she only ever cried when she was alone.
    She wanted to say something else, but she couldn’t, feeling like a jerk herself now, barely able to catch her breath, crying like a big baby.
    Josh Cameron stood up. “I’ll call