Read Online Athlete vs. Mathlete by W. C. Mack - Free Book Online

I pointed toward my pack.
    â€œCool. I’m wearing my lucky underwear.”
    If it was the same underwear he’d worn all the way through last year’s semifinals, they weren’t lucky.
    In fact, I felt sorry for them.
    â€œI’ve been working on my jump shot,” he said when we were about halfway to school.
    What?
    â€œYou have a jump shot?” The jumping beans in my stomach started moving.
    I didn’t have a jump shot!
    â€œI haven’t mastered it yet,” Chris said. “But my brother said seventh grade is when coaches want to see what youcan do from the field.” He shrugged. “You know, three-pointers.”
    What? No one told me that!
    â€œBut last year was free throws and layups,” I reminded him. “And staying close to the hoop.”
    â€œThat was last year.” Chris shrugged again. “My brother said the school record is thirteen three-pointers in seventh grade.”
    â€œAre you kidding me?”
    I’d never scored a three-pointer in my whole life! Sure, I’d been close, but like my grandpa always said, close only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades, whatever that meant.
    Would Coach Baxter really be expecting us to make jump shots?
    Would I be able to do one under pressure?
    Could I do one
at all
?
    I doubted it.

    I made it through my morning classes, and during lunch me, Chris, Nate, Paul, and Nicky sat together to trade snacks and talk about what was going to happen that afternoon.
    â€œDid you say jump shot?” Nicky asked Chris.
    â€œUh-huh.” Chris grunted, biting into Paul’s apple.
    â€œNo one said anything to me about jump shots,” Nicky muttered.
    â€œTell me about it.” I groaned, glad I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t do them.
    â€œI can only make maybe two out of five,” Nicky said, and sighed.
    â€œWhat?” I practically choked. Maybe I
was
the only one, after all.
    â€œI can only hit a three-pointer in about one out of
ten
shots,” Paul said.
    That made me feel a little better.
    But only until Nate said, “Dude, this is tryout day! You’ve gotta do better than that.”
    I tried to drown my jumping beans with a juice box, but they seemed to know how to swim.
    After lunch, I was on my way to social studies and trying not to freak out when I overheard Russ and some other kids in the hallway.
    â€œMan, those shoes are awesome!” Ryan McNichol told him.
    What?
    I forgot all about jump shots and three-pointers. Russ was wearing his brand-new shoes? To school? Sure, he’d worn them to practice at Sunset Park, but to
school
?
    He wasn’t saving them for the gym floor?
    I shook my head. Of course he wasn’t.
    I mean, saving them for what? He wasn’t going to make the team, so why not wear them every day? Why not mess up the most awesome shoes on the planet without even thinking about it? What difference did it make?
    â€œThanks,” Russ said. “My dad got them for me.”
    â€œI heard you’re trying out for basketball,” Jeff Billings said.
    I peeked around the corner. Russ looked way more comfortable than I would have expected, considering it was a conversation about sports, not space stations.
    â€œYeah. I know I won’t make it, but Coach Baxter wants me to try.”
    â€œYou never know,” Jeff said. “You’re pretty tall, and they could probably use a tall guy.”
    With skills
, I wanted to shout. Tall or not, a guy still had to be able to dribble! They made it sound like anyone could do it!
    â€œYou’re really trying out?” Maria asked. “That’s so cool. Good luck, Russell.”
    â€œThanks, I’ll need it,” he said, laughing.
    I walked over to his locker when the other kids left. “Want to take some practice shots at afternoon break?” I asked.
    â€œThanks, Owen, but I’m too busy,” he said.
    â€œTryouts are
today
,” I reminded him.