Mr. Fahrenheit Read Free Page A

captain muttered.
    â€œYou’ll want to watch that mouth, kid!” CR growled. The captain visibly recoiled. It was not CR’s normal voice: It was his Quarterback Voice. Talk about magic , Benji thought.
    â€œSir, I sure don’t want to tell you how to ref,” CR said, normal-voiced, “but I think our crowd’s kinda ticked about that little prank on the speakers. Am I saying that maybe, just maybe, somebody in your press box let those Newporte players in? Nope! That, I am not doing! But how about we let these fine young Americans stay here for the coin toss, just to call it even?”
    The ref paused, tallying the calculus of pros and cons. “Well . . .” he said, “let’s not make a habit of this.”
    â€œGreat, thanks a ton!” Then CR turned to the sidelines again and shouted, “Eleanor, come get a close-up!”
    The ref looked like he wanted to object as Ellie walked toward them with her camera in tow and a rueful smile on herface. But she stopped about fifteen feet away, which was apparently an acceptable distance, and the ref seemed to decide it was time to rip the Band-Aid off.
    He flipped the coin, the floating disc twirling and flashing in the field lights. He caught it and slapped it onto his wrist. “Call it, Bedford Falls.”
    â€œHeads,” CR replied.
    The ref took his hand off the coin. Tails. “We choose to receive the kickoff,” the other captain said.
    Benji looked at CR, wondering if he might be upset by this not-so-awesome turn of events. CR just stage-whispered, “Benji, turn your mic on.”
    As Benji did so, CR did something strange: He slammed his fist on the chest of his filthy jersey, which he’d refused to wash since their victory the week before. (The Bedford Falls football field, he said, was the place in the world that most felt like his home.)
    A thin trickle of dirt tumbled off the jersey. CR caught it in his hand and said, “We’re gonna need more. Zeek, Banjo, put your hands out.”
    Confused, they held their open hands palms up in front of him.
    CR proceeded to beat his chest like Donkey Kong until their palms were sprinkled with dirt.
    He nodded, satisfied.
    CR (to the captain, but amplified for the rest of the stadium): “Do you know what that is?”
    The captain: “Dirt . . . ?”
    CR: “That’s our field. That’s Bedford Falls.”
    CR nodded to Benji and Zeeko, who suddenly understood. They tipped their hands, letting the earth tumble to the field, like they were baptizing it.
    â€œSo now this is our field,” CR said, and then shouted directly into the mic, so his Quarterback Voice boomed through the universe like something vast and ancient. “You’re in our house, fellas!”
    Following the call of his performer’s instinct, Benji snapped his fingers, the pyrotechnic sheets momentarily flaring the moment with magical light as CR finished:
    â€œYou are IN. OUR. HOUSE! ”
    And the Bedford Falls fans surged to their feet, their roar cracking like a joyous lightning electrifying every atom of the night. Benji, CR, and Zeeko turned from the stupefied captain and referee, Ellie following with the camera capturing everything: four friends who had become the unlikely center of the universe striding together toward their sideline. It was just a game night, that was all, but amid that happy mayhem, nothing in all the world could have felt more enchanted.
    Nothing else on planet Earth.

2
    T he Bedford Falls victory was as spectacular as it was assured. Final score: 59 to 3, and their opponents only got on the scoreboard because CR let his second-string quarterback (a wide-eyed junior nicknamed Charlie Brown) take over near the end.
    A post-game party was assured, too, but its location wound up surprising Benji. And when he looked back on this night later, he wondered if “surprising” was the wrong word. “Inevitable” was better,