Athlete vs. Mathlete: Double Dribble (12 page)

Come on
.

“Russ, I—”

“I'll see you on the bus,” he said, walking toward the stairs.

My brother's words stuck with me for the whole afternoon.

At first I thought he was out of his mind and tried to forget the whole conversation, but then I realized that Russ was right.

I couldn't predict what was going to happen when the ref blew his whistle.

And if I started on the bench, that didn't mean I'd stay there for the whole game. I'd have my chance at Dante Powers and it was up to me to make it count, no matter how many minutes I had on the court.

After all, ESPN highlights were only a few seconds apiece, max.

And that meant that any time I had on the court could be enough to make something awesome happen.

I finally made it through the afternoon, and the next thing I knew, the Pioneers and I were on a yellow bus, heading for Hogarth Middle School.

It was time to attack the mighty Huskies and hope we didn't get bitten.

It was time to take on Dante Powers.

“We're going to make history,” I told Russ and the rest of the guys. It felt good to have my “Pioneer spirit” back.

“Or we're going to
be
history,” one of the guys said.

“Come on,” I said. “We can totally do this. We've won four games in a row.”

“And they've won six,” Nate said.

“Seven, actually,” Russ said, taking his nose out of his sci-fi novel.

I don't know how he did it. If I read in a moving car, I'd puke for sure.

Mitch and Marcus turned around at the exact same time.

“What's so great about … what's his name again?” one of them asked.

“Dante Powers,” we all said at once.

“The kid might as well be in high school,” Nicky Chu said.

“More like college,” I corrected. “He holds the record for most points scored in a single game for the whole state.”

“What's the record?” one of them asked.

“I just told you. Most points scored in a single—”

“No.” He sighed. “I meant how many points.”

“Over thirty,” I said, then waited for their jaws to drop.

But they didn't.

“How many, exactly?” one asked.

“Thirty-one,” I announced.

They looked at each other and shrugged. “We've scored more than that.”

I practically choked. “What?”

“How many?” Russ asked, forgetting all about his book.

“Thirty-five.”

“Get out of here,” Nicky Chu said, waving his hand like they were kidding and he was onto them.

“He's thirty-five,” one of the twins said, pointing at the other. “I'm thirty-seven.”

“In a single game?” Paul gasped.

“Yeah.” The twin shrugged. “Not the
same
game, but yeah, in single games.”

“That's unbelievable,” Nate whispered.

“Believe it,” the Twinvaders said, killing the conversation for the rest of the trip.

When we got to Hogarth, I wasn't nearly as excited as I'd hoped to be.

I couldn't stop thinking about those high scores and wondering how long it would be before the Matthews brothers made over thirty-five points in a Pioneers game. Sure, Coach was all about sharing court time, but if they racked up points, Russ and I would be doomed to the bench forever.

I followed the rest of the guys into the school, my bag of gear feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“What's wrong now?” Russ asked, as we walked past a wall of lockers.

“Thirty-seven points.”

Russ cleared his throat, which he always did when he was nervous. “That was only one time. And the other one only scored thirty-five.”

Was he kidding?

“Russ, what's the highest number of points
you've
scored in a game?”

“Nineteen,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“Exactly.”

“But you've scored twenty-five.”

“Twenty,” I corrected.

“That's still good, you know.”

“It's almost half of theirs, Russ.”

We walked past the Huskies' trophy case, which was filled with pictures, newspaper stories, and trophies.

Lots of them.

And that's when I started to get really nervous. We were going up against the team with the best record in the county, so there was no guarantee we'd win or even come close.

There was also no guarantee that either Mitch or Marcus wouldn't break his own record.

What if one of them scored over thirty points against Dante Powers?

Now
that
would be making history.

And what if I had to watch it happen from my new home on the bench?

The thought made me want to puke up my Pioneer spirit.

“Owen?”

“Yeah?” I turned toward the gym.

“You look kind of pale.”

“I'm fine, Russ.”

“But you're—”

“I'm fine,” I snapped.

But I wasn't.

Instead of letting us use the girls' locker room, like most schools did, Hogarth made us get changed for the game in the boys' bathroom.

“This is lame.” Paul pulled on his jersey and banged his elbow on a paper towel dispenser.

“They're just trying to psych us out,” Nicky Chu told him. “They want to go into the game feeling like they've got the edge.”

“They
do
have the edge,” Nate said. “They've got Dante freakin' Powers.”

“He's just a kid,” Russ said quietly, “like us.”

“A kid who's already been on TV,” Paul said.

“We were on TSPN,” a voice said from behind me.

“What?” Nate choked, turning to face the Matthews twins. “How did a couple of twelve-year-olds make it onto the biggest sports channel in the country?”

“No,” a twin said. “TSPN.”

“Hold the phone.” I lifted a hand to stop him. “What the heck is TSPN?”

“A Twin Cities sports show,” the brothers said together. “Hosted by Matt Larson.”

I checked the rest of the guys' faces and they looked as clueless as I was.

“Matt Larson,” one of them said again, like repeating the name would make a difference.

“Never mind.” His brother sighed. “Let's go warm up, Mitch.”

Aha! I was back on track. I knew which one was which.

But that lasted for only about ten seconds. As soon as they left the bathroom, fully geared up, I had them mixed up again.

Great.

When I and the rest of the Pioneers walked into the gym, the bleachers were totally packed with fans wearing black and gray, waving signs, and shouting their support for their team.

Their undefeated team
.

I wondered if the sinking feeling in my stomach was the same thing visitors felt when they came to play at Lewis and Clark.

I watched the Huskies warming up and looked for Dante Powers. But I didn't see him anywhere.

I couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed.

“What if Powers isn't playing?” I said out loud.

“We win,” Chris said with a shrug.

I knew he was right, but would it still feel like a historic victory if we beat the Huskies in their own house
without
their star player?

Probably not.

But would I take it?

Definitely.

I watched Mitch and Marcus pass the ball back and forth to each other, under the net.

The truth was, if we
did
end up losing the game, I kind of wanted to see the two of them go down in flames against Dante Powers.

“There he is,” Chris whispered, pointing to the locker room door.

“Yup.” I sighed.

He wasn't a tall kid, or loaded with muscles. He didn't have a wild haircut or wear flashier shoes than anybody else. He was the kind of guy you'd never notice.

Until he played.

Dante pulled off his team hoodie and lifted one hand in the air. Within about half a second, one of his teammates threw him a ball. He bounced it a couple of times, then passed it around his back a bunch of times, really fast.

“What a show-off,” I said, more jealous than I'd ever been.

“It's for the cameras,” Paul said, pointing to the far side of the gym.

I followed his finger and there they were. Two news cameras, both focused on Dante.

“No way,” I whispered.

What if Hogarth beat us with cameras rolling?

We had to win
.

Just like I expected, Russ and I shared our new spot on the bench for the first few minutes of the game while the Twinvaders lit up the scoreboard.

Instead of going down in flames, they were on fire, right from the tip-off.

I watched them race up and down the court, never looking tired or out of breath. I watched them pass the ball without looking or probably even thinking about it.

“Here we go,” I said with a sigh.

After one of the twins scored again, the Huskies' coach put Powers in.

The whole crowd went quiet, like they knew they were about to see the best show of their lives.

I held my breath as he dribbled down the court, looking totally cool and calm. He dodged around Chris, no problem,
then paused to bounce the ball between his legs, backward and forward, like Mitch and Marcus did.

I glanced at the cameras, which were glued to him.

Then he dribbled forward again, keeping an eye on the basket.

I wondered if he would go for the three-pointer, knowing he would sink the ball. Or would he work his way through the Pioneers, spinning, pivoting, and dribbling like a pro?

It turned out he didn't have a chance to do either.