Athlete vs. Mathlete (2 page)

“Did you get your practice schedule yet?” Dad asked me at the dinner table that night.

“Nope,” I said, shaking my head. “We have to make the team before we can practice.”

“Make the team?” Mom asked. “You're already—”

“The new coach is making us try out.”

“Wow,” Dad said, passing me the chicken. “That's different.”

“Yeah, different and stupid.”

“Hmm.”
Dad raised his eyebrows. “That might be the only time I've ever heard you use the word ‘stupid' to describe basketball.”

“Because it's totally stupid. I was already on the team!”

“Maybe your new coach wants to shake things up a little,” Dad said.

Coach Baxter wasn't just “shaking things up a little.” He
was causing a freakin' earthquake. “Yeah, right. He wants
Russell
to try out.”

Dad was reaching for the rice but he froze. He looked at my twin. “Is that true?”

“I guess,” Russ said, through a mouthful of green beans that would probably be stuck in his braces for the next four days.

“Well, that's great news,” Dad said, slapping him on the back.

Russ almost choked. “I won't make it,” he said.

“Who told you that?” Dad asked.

Russell looked at me and I shrugged.

“Owen?” Mom said, all disappointed. “That's not very nice.”

“I wasn't trying to be mean,” I told her. “He won't, and he's cool with that. Right, Russ?”

Both of my parents looked at my brother, waiting for an answer.

“I don't care,” he told them. “Making the basketball team isn't exactly a goal of mine.”

“I'm lost,” Mom said.

“Coach Baxter is forcing him to try out,” I explained. “He says he needs Russ's height at center.”

“I can see that,” Dad said, nodding slowly.

“Wait a second,” Mom said. “The coach is
forcing
him to try out?”

“I think it's a great idea,” Dad said, taking a bite of his chicken. “Are you ready for it, Russ?”

“Owen's going to practice with me.”

Dad smiled at me. “I can help you guys out. We can run some drills on Saturday, then get a pickup game going in the park on Sunday.”

“What?” I gulped.

“Uh, I have a Masters of the Mind meeting on Saturday,” Russ said.

“Masters of the Mind,” Dad mumbled, probably trying to remember what that was. “Can't you cancel?”

Russ's eyes bulged open, like he had a chicken bone jammed in his throat.

“What?” Dad asked, shrugging. “Basketball tryouts are once a year.”

“So is the Masters of the Mind district competition,” Russ told him. “It's only three weeks away.”

“And his team is depending on him,” Mom said, shooting Dad the kind of look none of us wanted to get.

“Exactly,” Russ said. “This could be our year, if we find the right replacement for Chao. Of course, we've got an excellent team already. Nitu is a math wizard and—”

“More wizards?” I laughed. “What was that wizard book you wouldn't put down a couple of weeks ago?”

“
Gruden's Path
.” Russ grinned. “It's about a third-circle wizard who wants to become a Golden—”

“Okay, okay,” Dad said, holding up a hand to stop him before all our heads exploded. “Go to your meeting on Saturday, and we'll practice on Sunday.” He nodded, like it was settled, then winked at Russ. “This is going to be a lot of fun.”

I wasn't so sure.

The Undiscovered Element

I didn't even mention basketball tryouts to my Masters of the Mind team because we had bigger issues to deal with. Our most artistic member, Chao Liu, had recently moved to Cincinnati, and I could practically smell the panic at our afternoon meeting.

“We're doomed,” Jason Schmidt said, chewing on his thumbnail.

Of course, Jason thought he was doomed when the lunch ladies sprinkled cheese on his chili.

“At least we're still close to him alphabetically,” Sara said hopefully. “You know, Ohio and Oregon.”

I wasn't sure how that would help, but I appreciated her effort.

Jason groaned. “We're
doomed
.”

“We're not doomed,” I told him. “We'll figure this out. After all, we're brainstorming experts.”

“Please don't tell me to put my thinking cap on, Russell,” Jason said, and sighed. “I can't take it. I mean, this is serious.”

“I know it's serious.” I looked each of my three teammates in the eye. “But all we really need to do is find someone else.”

“Yeah, and convince ‘someone else' that Masters of the Mind is cool,” Nitu said.

“It
is
cool,” I reminded her.

“
We
know that,” Sara said, “but everybody else thinks it's a geek convention.”

“No, they don't,” I told her.

“Actually, they do, Russell,” Nitu said, shrugging as she played with the tip of her long black braid. “But I don't care. I love this team.”

“So do I.” I nodded. “And so will our new member.”

“I feel weird about this,” Sara said, quietly. “Chao was our friend.”

“And we'll make another friend,” I promised. “You have to trust me.” And they did, too. I was team leader. “I'm sure there are tons of Lewis and Clark students who'll jump at the chance to compete.”

“You really think so?” Jason asked doubtfully.

“We did,” I reminded him.

“That's true.” Nitu nodded. “I was dying to join Masters of the Mind as soon as I saw the booth on Club Day.”

“My brother was on the team for three years,” Sara said. “I used to watch his competitions and daydream about my turn.”

I thought of the basketball team, whose members only cared about throwing a ball through a hoop, and shook my head. “So, should we get started with a warm-up?”

We agreed on a rhyming animal drill and Nitu began with, “Would a gray dog disappear in the fog?”

“Not bad,” Sara said, smiling. “Does an arctic fox need winter socks?”

“Do healthy parrots eat peas and carrots?” I asked.

We waited for Jason, but he was silent.

“Your turn,” Nitu said.

He frowned. “I'm trying to think of something that rhymes with squirrel.”

“Seriously?” Nitu groaned. “There's a whole animal kingdom out there, Jason.”

“Fine.” He closed his eyes for a second, then asked, “Would a bath stop a monkey from smelling funky?”

We got on a roll from there.

“Do teenage rabbits have nasty habits?”

“Is a funny giraffe good for a laugh?”

“Do tired sheep have to stand while they sleep?”

“Would a hungry ape peel a grape?”

“Can a lonely dove fall in love?”

We kept our rhythm for several minutes until I asked, “Would a bear care to share his lair?”

Nitu gave me a sly smile. “Four at once, huh?”

“I can top that,” Jason said. “Would a big pig in a wig eat a fig?”

“Okay, that's still four.” Sara laughed. “Would mice find two lice twice as nice?”

“Four again.” Nitu thought for a second or two. “If a rat sat on a fat cat's mat, would the cat be okay with that, or find a bat to go after the brat?”

“Show off.” I groaned.

“She said ‘cat' twice,” Jason quickly pointed out.

“Remember the time Chao rhymed eleven words?” Sara asked, smiling.

Everyone was quiet, and I knew we were all missing him.

“He's not going to be easy to replace,” Nitu said.

“I asked Adam Johnson to join the team and he laughed in my face,” Jason said.

“Same with Becky Harper.” Sara sighed. “And I really thought she'd be into it.”

Jason moaned. “We're doomed.”

“Look,” I said, ready to move on. “I don't think we're going to find someone in Sara's living room in the next forty-five
minutes, so maybe we should work on something else. Like one of the older questions?”

When Sara found the right page in her binder, we listened as she read a question out loud.

“Hmm,”
Nitu said when she finished.
“When does one equal two?”

We were quiet for a few seconds. I could hear Sara's mom in the kitchen, which made me think of my own mom, and I came up with the first answer.

“Twins. One pregnancy equals two babies.”

“Nice one,” Sara said, grinning.

“How about yams and sweet potatoes?” Jason asked. “One vegetable, two names.”

“They aren't the same thing,” Sara told him, shaking her head. “Yams have more natural sugar in them, and more moisture.”

“Why do you know that?” Nitu asked, laughing.

Sara smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Why do you know the first twenty decimal places of pi?”

“Twenty-five,” our math whiz said, grinning. “And good point.”

“Okay.” Sara stared at the ceiling. “When does one equal two?”

“I know,” Jason said, snapping his fingers. “Basketball. One basket equals two points.”

“Hey,” I said, thinking of my strange experience at
school. “You won't believe this, but Coach Baxter is making
me
try out for the basketball team.”

Everyone froze.

“Why?” Jason finally asked.

“I'm tall.” I shrugged.

“Sure, but …,” Nitu said, then cringed.

“Tall is one thing,” Jason said, shaking his head, “but you don't
play
.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“What will you have to do?” he asked, looking worried. “Run?”

I shrugged. “Run, jump, and shoot, I guess.”

“Russ, can you do
any
of those things?” he asked, looking doubtful.

“Not very well,” I admitted.

“Me neither,” Nitu said. “And all three at once? Yeah, right.”

“So, tryouts will be over quickly. I'll try, fail, and be done with it.”

I didn't feel the slightest bit offended when everyone nodded.

“Okay, so Russell has shared
his
news,” Nitu said, with a smile. “Isn't anyone going to ask me about
mine
?”

“Okay,” Jason said, “what's your … oh, the district competition!”

“Yes.” Nitu pulled out a blue piece of paper and cleared
her throat. “This year's challenge is to drop an egg from a two-story window onto the pavement below, without a break or a crack.”

I could practically hear the pistol go off so our minds could start racing.

Nitu continued, “We get six rubber bands; a piece of Styrofoam; one roll each of aluminum foil, duct tape, and plastic wrap; ten feet of string; ten newspaper pages; four chopsticks—”

“What are we supposed to do with chopsticks?” Jason asked.

“Let her finish,” I whispered.

“Three cups of water,” Nitu continued, “a plastic margarine container, a pair of scissors, and two toilet-paper tubes.”

When she was done, we all sat back to think.

“What about wrapping the egg in the foil?” Jason suggested.

“And?” Nitu prompted.

“That's it. If it's wrapped thick enough.”

“This is Masters of the Mind,” Nitu reminded him. “The best and brightest.”

“And?” Jason asked.

“And you're seriously suggesting a ball of foil?”

“Remember, we have to use more than
five
of the items,” Sara added.

At that moment, Mrs. Phillips walked into the living
room with our snack. As the Masters of the Mind team worked our way through a dozen sugar cookies and two dozen ideas in the next forty-five minutes, I couldn't help wondering who was going to fill our fifth spot. The district competition was only three weeks away.

And that wasn't the only thing I was worried about.

Basketball tryouts were guaranteed to be a waste of time, and time wasn't something I had a lot of. I had a paper due for English class, a math quiz that week, and the school librarian told me I was next on the list to borrow Franz Helsen's new book. I'd have it on Friday, and I wanted to read it straight through the weekend.

Why did Coach have to choose me?

“I'd better head for home,” Nitu said, interrupting my thoughts.

“I should go, too,” Jason said, grabbing his big black case. “Tuba practice.”

I slipped the straps of my backpack onto my shoulders. “So, we'll meet on Saturday at your house, right?” I asked Nitu.

“Ten o'clock,” she said, nodding.

“And next Wednesday we're at your place, Russell?” Sara asked.

“No. I've got those basketball tryouts.”

“Wait, they're on
Wednesday
?” Jason gasped.

“Yes.”

“But we're meeting next Wednesday instead of our usual Thursday,” Nitu said. “Thursday's my dad's birthday. Remember?”