Athlete vs. Mathlete by W. C. Mack

stupid
shoes
!
    â€œAre you kidding me?” I practically choked.
    â€œWhat?”
    I glared at him. “Never mind.”
    â€œDon’t tell Dad I made it, okay?” he asked. “I want to do it.”
    I nodded. Yeah, Russ. You
just do it
.
    You and your freakin’ magical Nikes.

    For the first time ever, I didn’t want to talk about basketball when I got home.
    â€œHow did it go?” Dad asked, the second we walked through the door.
    My brother made a big show of shaking his head and looking sad.
    All I saw was more sneakiness.
    â€œRuss?” Dad asked.
    He shrugged. “I was the slowest guy at running lines.”
    â€œOh no.” Dad reached over to pat his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
    My twin tried to hold back a laugh. “Sorry that I was slow, or sorry that I made the team, anyway?”
    Suddenly he was a comedian, too? Jump shots? Punch lines? Mr. Hidden Talents rides again.
    Dad stared at him. “What?”
    â€œHe made the team,” Mom said, jumping up and down. Her eyes were shiny, like she might cry.
    â€œ
You
made the team,” Dad said, slowly, still in shock. Then he grinned.
“You made the team!”
    He lifted his hand to give Russ a high five.
    As usual, Russ missed.
    â€œThis is incredible,” Dad said, pulling Russ into a hug. “We’ve got to celebrate. Let’s go out for dinner.”
    â€œI was going to make spaghetti,” Mom said, then smiled as she watched them. “Never mind. What about the Jade Palace?”
    Great. Chinese food at my favorite restaurant, and I wasn’t even hungry.
    â€œSeriously?” Russ asked.
    â€œOf course,” Dad said, finally letting go of him. “You made the team, Russ. This is a night for celebration.”
    â€œI made the team, too,” I said, but no one heard me. Was I invisible? In my own stinking house? “I made the team, too,” I said, this time a lot louder. I sounded kind of mad actually, which made sense.
    I
was
mad.
    Everyone stopped to look at me, surprised.
    â€œOf course you did,” Dad said, slapping me on the back. “We knew you would. But this guy …” He turned back to Russ and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “This guy just made my day.”

Common Denominator
    After so many years of being divided into brains and brawn, Owen and I had both been fine with our roles. But when Coach Baxter called my name, I realized that I’d only been fine with being the brains because I never imagined I could be
both
things—a mathlete and an … athlete.
    Oh, I liked the sound of that!
    I lifted the white tablecloth at Jade Palace, smiling at the sight of my Nikes.
    They really were magical. And even more magical?
    Dad was proud of me
.
    I didn’t think I’d ever stop smiling, especially when I thought about those jump shots.
    The truth was, I’d barely heard the guys cheering asI made each one. When I’d thrown the ball, I hadn’t been thinking about Owen, or making the Pioneers, or anything to do with basketball.
    I’d been thinking about an egg.
    Or, more specifically, a Masters of the Mind egg, thrown at just the right angle, with a built-in net for brakes.
    I’d run through the list of challenge ingredients as I shot the ball again and again, trying to think of what we could use for our net.

    Later that night, when we were back at the house, I got the call from Sara.
    â€œHow was the meeting?” I asked.
    There was a short pause at the other end, before she said, “He’s in.”
    â€œArthur?” I asked, feeling an ounce or two of happiness leave my body. “He wants to join?”
    â€œYes,” she sighed. “And he had a few ideas.”
    â€œFor the fund-raiser?”
    â€œYes, but he also had a lot of ideas about how the meetings should be run and … that kind of thing.”
    â€œHe’s probably just trying to impress us,” I told