Free A Brand-New Me! by Henry Winkler Page A

my dad owns fifty bowling alleys around the world. In fact, he’s in Antarctica right now, buying two more igloo bowling alleys for penguins.”
    A tall, blond kid named Anderson Negley, who I knew from my old Little League team, was bowling on the lane next to us. He stopped mid-throw and looked over at McKelty.
    â€œYou expect any of us to believe that?” he said. “Everyone knows your dad owns one bowling alley and this is it. Besides, moron, have you ever seen a penguin bowl?”
    â€œHave you ever seen one NOT bowl?” McKelty shot back.
    â€œThat makes so little sense, I can’t even answer it,” Anderson said. Then he turned to me. “Your name is Hank, right?”
    â€œYeah. I’ve seen you in Dr. Berger’s office.”
    â€œRight. I think you had the appointment after mine. Listen, man, you being the ball was funny stuff. Cracked me up.”
    â€œHank’s rehearsing for an audition tomorrow,” Ashley said. Then she gave him a really deluxe smile.
    Where did that smile come from? I’d never seen it before. Wait a minute. Ashley was flirting with this guy. Whoa. I guess that’s what girls do. But I never thought of Ashweena as a girl before.
    â€œAn audition?” McKelty snorted. “The only thing Zipperhead would get into is the city zoo. And that’s already a stretch.”
    â€œMcKelty, you’re going to have to eat those words after Hank gets into the Professional Performing Arts School,” Frankie said.
    â€œThat school?” McKelty said. “I wouldn’t go to that loser school if you paid me.”
    â€œListen, dude,” Anderson chimed in. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. No one is paying you to go anywhere.”
    â€œI’m paying him,” came a voice from behind us. It was Nick’s dad, delivering the three root beer floats that Papa Pete had ordered. “Nick, I thought I asked you to spray the shoes with disinfectant. That’s what I’m paying you for, not to stand around and disturb the customers.”
    â€œBut . . . Dad,” McKelty tried to answer.
    â€œNo buts,” his dad said sternly. “Just spray.”
    McKelty shuffled his big butt back to the shoe counter. As I watched him pick up the can of disinfectant and begin to spray the inside of a bunch of stinky shoes, I thought sometimes people get exactly what they deserve.
    I really hoped that the next day, I would get just what I deserved, too . . . a place at Professional Performing Arts.

CHAPTER 19
    After bowling, Papa Pete walked us home. It was one of those New York spring evenings that are just perfect, the kind that say winter is over and summer is on the way. As we walked down Amsterdam Avenue, passing the dry cleaners, the library, and the pet store where I bought Rosa, my pet tarantula, I kept taking deep breaths to calm myself down. The places we were passing, usually so familiar to me, were all a blur to me now. I realized that the audition was getting closer and closer, with every step we took. That’s all I could think about.
    When we got to our building, we rode up in the elevator and stopped at Frankie’s floor first. Before he got out, he turned to me and looked me square in the eye.
    â€œI’d wish you good luck tomorrow, Zip, but you don’t need it. You’ll knock ’em dead.”
    Then we bumped our fists, our elbows, and our butts. Nothing more needed to be said.
    Next we stopped at Ashley’s floor to let her off. She just threw her arms around me and gave me a gigantoid hug.
    â€œI demand that you call me the minute you’re out of the audition,” she said. “I’m going to go to sleep tonight with my fingers crossed.”
    â€œOw,” I said. “That sounds painful.”
    She laughed and gave me one more hug before leaving the elevator.
    Papa Pete and I got out on the tenth floor without saying a word. In our apartment, my dad