Read Online Athlete vs. Mathlete: Double Dribble by W. C. Mack - Free Book Online Page B

then we
both
looked like losers.
    Great.
    The ref blew his whistle and one of the Pioneers passed me the ball. I hauled down the court, dodging red jerseys all the way. I could hear the handful of our fans who’d made the trip cheering for me, and that got me pumped.
    I had my chance at a basket and was just about to shoot when a Warrior reached over my back and shoved the ball to the side.
    â€œYou’ve gotta move faster, Owen!” Coach Baxter shouted from the bench.
    I gritted my teeth and took off running so I could get the ball back. But I was too late.
    Two points for the Warriors.
    Ugh.
    When I had my next chance at a shot, I choked and threw a total brick.
    â€œTake your time, Owen,” Coach called to me.
    What did he want me to do? Speed up or slow down?
    If I hadn’t spent so much time on the bench, my playing wouldn’t be so rusty. I just knew it.
    Russ did okay, though. He made a couple of sweet jump shots, and I was totally proud of him.
    By the time Coach pulled us out, the Pioneers were eight points ahead, thanks to nine points from Russ and four from me.
    I reminded myself that four was better than none as I walked back to the bench.
    But “better than none” didn’t do much for me at the end of the game. We won, forty-eight to thirty-nine, but only six of the points were mine.
    The Matthews twins walked out of there with thirty points between them.

    When I got home that night, I grabbed my ball out of the garage so I could take some practice shots. I tried a few from the free throw line I’d marked on the concrete, and made most of them. I took a few more from the corner by the mailbox but didn’t have as much luck.
    I thought about some of the moves Mitch and Marcus had been showing off at practices and at the game.
    I bounced the ball through my legs, like they had, slowly walking toward the street and passing it through on each step.
    Not bad.
    Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to push myself, I tried to do the same thing while walking backward up the driveway.
    It was way harder, and I lost control of the ball almost as many times as I banged it against the backs of my knees.
    â€œYou look just like M&M,” Russ said, from behind me.
    The ball bounced against my ankle and rolled onto the grass. “I wasn’t trying to,” I lied.
    â€œIt was a compliment,” Russ said with a shrug. “They’re really good.”
    â€œYeah, well they aren’t the first people on the planet to dribble like that.”
    â€œI didn’t say they were.”
    â€œLots of people do it.”
    â€œFine,” he said, shrugging again.
    â€œFine,” I repeated, then picked up the ball and carried it into the garage.
    I really didn’t feel like practicing anymore.
    â€œYou know, I think one of them was going to high-five you at the game,” Russ called after me.
    â€œOne of who? The Twinvaders?” I shook my head. “Nah, they both ignored me.”
    â€œI don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it was Marcus who moved toward you, then Mitch kind of blocked him.”
    I couldn’t help snorting. “You’re seeing things, Russ. Mitch might be the bigger jerk, but they’re
both
jerks.”
    â€œI’m not so sure,” he said.
    â€œYeah, well I am,” I told him, starting toward the door.
    â€œI’m just saying that Marcus might be okay.”
    That was the last thing I needed to hear. “It’s official,” Imuttered, as I walked back inside. “The whole team’s been brainwashed.”

    Just before dinner that night, I was washing my hands in the bathroom sink when I glanced at myself in the mirror. I turned off the faucet and let the water drip off my fingers as I studied my reflection.
    Curious, I lifted one hand up to the top of my head and started to push the hair to one side.
    It wouldn’t stay, so I ran the faucet again and dipped one of Dad’s little black combs