Athlete vs. Mathlete: Double Dribble (15 page)

He was a much better person than I was.

“The aerodynamics were awful,” he said.

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“You would have been better off leaving it in the cup with the lid off.”

“But I—”

“Throwing that bag was like trying to aim a jellyfish
when you could have been firing … I don't know, a shark.” He nodded once, like that made perfect sense. “Yeah, what you needed was a shark.”

I was totally stunned.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I could tell he was on my side.

And that was enough.

When I sat down to watch the Blazers game with Dad that night, I was still ticked off at the Twinvaders.

All week, I'd been trying to come up with ideas for how to take them out of the basketball equation, and I still didn't know what to do.

I'd brainstormed ways to get them kicked off the team, and finding a way to turn the rest of the guys against them, but it was really hard. I knew exactly what result I wanted, but I couldn't come up with any real
plans
to make it happen.

“Popcorn?” Dad asked, handing me the bowl.

The hot, buttery goodness was almost enough to turn my attitude around. Almost. I took a handful and shoved it into my mouth.

“The Blazers take on Memphis,” Dad said. “This could be a tough game.”

I nodded, still chewing.

My favorite team was on the ball from the second the ref tossed it.

DeShawn Williams passed to Jenkins, who booked it down the court faster than anyone in the Western Conference. Then he slipped past Jim Masters and floated through the air for a solid dunk.

Yes!

The Grizzlies' guard dribbled to the center line, but the second he crossed it, Carl Walters came out of nowhere and stole the ball.

Yes, again!

“Nice move,” Dad said, reaching for the popcorn.

In fact, it was
so
nice, I forgot about the twins.

That is, until Russ joined us on the couch.

He watched for a few minutes, catching up on what he'd missed.

“Where's Antoine Marchand?” he asked, squinting at the screen.

“On the bench,” Dad said. “Torn ACL.”

That had to be the worst injury on the planet. No one ever knew how long guys would be out when it happened to them.

Wait a second
.

I leaned back in my seat as the plan of all plans dropped right into my lap and I smiled.

After the game, I spent an hour hunched over a notebook in my room, drawing all kinds of awesome diagrams.

I came up with a bunch of different ideas for taking out at least one Twinvader, and soon my notebook was filled with all kinds of possible accidents.

When it was time for bed, I made a pit stop in Russ's room before I brushed my teeth.

“I have an idea,” I told him, clutching the notebook to my chest.

“An idea about what?”

“The Matthews twins.”

His eyebrows rose, as if he was interested, and I liked seeing that. Some of my plans would take the strength of at least two people. I looked at Russ's toothpick arms. Well, one and a half would work.

I opened the notebook and started slowly flipping through the pages so he could see my diagrams.

“I'm thinking one of them could tear his ACL.”

“What?” Russ gasped.

“That would split them up, so they couldn't dominate the team.”

Russ checked out the drawing I'd done of a catapult. It was old-school, but I knew it would work.

He turned to the next page, which showed one of the brothers with his foot twisted in a big hole he'd stepped into while trying to outrun a vicious dog.

Russ's eyes bugged out. “Are you insane?”

“I know we don't have a dog, but—”

He frowned. “That's not the problem here.”

“Okay, I also don't know exactly how to build the catapult, but there are probably instructions online and—”

“Really? What about this piano, dropping off a cliff?” he asked.

“We could use a pulley and—”

“Are you trying to kill the Road Runner, Owen?” He shook his head. “And just so you know, dropping a piano on someone would do more than tear his ACL.”

“We don't have to use that idea. I have tons more.”

He shook his head. “And they're
all
insane.”

“Okay, okay,” I reasoned. “What if we tried for something a little less serious, like maybe a sprain or something?”

“We?”

“Well, yeah.”

Russ frowned. “You really want to hurt the twins, don't you?”

“No, just
one
of them. And it isn't about
hurting
him as much as
benching
him.” I saw the way he was staring at me, like I was some kind of a monster. “What?”

“I can't believe you'd hurt someone to get more time on the court.”

“I didn't say we
had
to hurt him, Russ.”

He turned the page to a drawing of a Twinvader in a full body cast. “Really?”

“Okay, I get your point. It doesn't have to be superserious.
We could set up some kind of really small accident, with no major damage. You know all kinds of physics stuff, so I'm sure we could come up with a good plan together.”

Russ shook his head. “Why don't we just push one of them down the stairs?”

I grinned. “Yes! Now you're talking! Simple, quick and—”

“I'm
kidding
!” Russ snapped. “No, ‘kidding' is the wrong word because this isn't funny.”

“Geez. Relax, Russ.”

“No, I won't. I don't like this whole sabotage idea at all. Why can't you and I just practice together more, so we'll play like they do?”

I shook my head. “Do you know how long that would take?”

“I don't care how long, Owen. That isn't the point.”

Wasn't Masters of the Mind supposed to be all about thinking outside the box?

“Look. I'm just trying to fix this mess and get more court time for you and me.”

He frowned even more. “That doesn't make it right, Owen.” He paused for a second, then gave me a serious look. “Remember the Nikes.”

“I remember,” I muttered as I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

While the toothpaste foamed up and dripped out of my mouth, I thought about how Russ had looked when he found out I'd dumped his beloved shoes in the school Dumpster.

I spat out the toothpaste and rinsed my mouth before walking to my bedroom.

All the basketball stuff on the walls looked awesome, but the posters, ticket stubs, books, and photos only made me feel worse.

Maybe I
was
some kind of a monster.

But I couldn't help it that basketball was my life and that all I'd wanted to do for as long as I could remember was to be out there. Winning.

And it seemed like everything was working against me.

But, as I lay on my bed, I realized that Russ was right. My plans would work only in cartoons, and maybe not even then.

I'd just have to buck up, work even harder, and practice more.

As tempting as it was, I couldn't hurt Mitch or Marcus.

As it turned out, though, I didn't have to.

I was so busy thinking about the math test I'd be taking in last period and the fact that Owen had turned into a maniac, I didn't really notice the buzz of conversation in the hallway when I arrived at school.

I also didn't notice it during recess, when Nitu and I ran through some practice problems.

But at lunch, there was only one topic on the table, and it wasn't airborne meat.

“It's his collarbone, I think,” Chris said, sounding like he was announcing the death of a beloved pet.

“I heard it was his elbow,” Nate said through the crunch of a Rice Krispies Treat.

“Come on, how do you break an elbow?” Paul scoffed.

“What are you guys talking about?” I asked, pulling my sandwich out of its bag. Peanut butter again.

But before anyone could answer me, I saw exactly who they were talking about.

M&M walked into the cafeteria together, and one of them was wearing a bright-orange cast on his arm.

I'm sure my eyes widened to twice their usual size while I did my best not to look at Owen.

I cleared my throat. “Uh, which one is it?” I asked the table.

“Does it matter?” Nate asked.

“Well, it's—”

“Whichever one it is, we've lost half of the most awesome basketball duo in Lewis and Clark history.”

“That might be a bit of an exaggeration,” I said, glancing at Owen.

My brother didn't say a word. He just shrugged.

It didn't escape my attention that within twelve hours of Owen planning to harm Mitch or Marcus, one of them was most definitely hurt.

I raised an eyebrow at my twin, like a silent question. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer, but it didn't matter because Owen wasn't looking at me anymore.

Was he responsible?

Four-letter elements: gold, iron, zinc, lead
… I glanced at the bright-orange cast. And
neon
.

I wanted to believe that Owen was past all the jealousy
over basketball, but after our conversation last night, I wasn't sure anymore.

I closed my eyes.

Five-letter elements: argon, radon, xenon …

“How did you do it?” a voice asked.

My eyes popped open, sure that someone at the table was onto Owen and his plan. But what I saw was the orange cast at the edge of the table.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mitch and I were playing HORSE last night,” the twin said, so I knew for sure he was Marcus. “Things got a little rough, and—”

“He broke your arm?” Chris asked.

Marcus shrugged. “Not exactly. I tripped over a garden hose and fell on a rock. Then,
crack
.”

We all winced at the same time.

“Can you play?” Chris asked.

Marcus stared at him like it was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. “Uh, not right now.”

“Bummer,” Chris said with a sigh.

“I'll still be out there,” Mitch said.

The guys all nodded, but I could tell they were wondering the same thing I was: How could one of them possibly pose as much of a threat as two?