Sasquatch in the Paint by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar Page A

were crowded around. “Who was that? It was awesome. Is it on iTunes?”
    Theo shook his head. “No. Just a home recording by my cousin.”
    They shrugged and left.
    â€œThat was Gavin?” Brian asked in shock.
    â€œYeah,” Theo admitted. He didn’t want to discuss it anymore. He hated that everyone liked it so much. It was bad enough he had to see Gavin in L.A. He didn’t want Gavin’s presence spilling into his life here.
    â€œThe dude has talent,” Tunes said. He held up his phone and started replaying the song. “I should post this on Facebook, see how many Likes he gets.”
    â€œNo!” Theo said, trying to snatch the phone. “Come on, man. Don’t. He’d kill me.”
    Daryl laughed. “Relax, dude. I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t do that to you. We’re a team, right? The Unstoppable Brain Train.” He deleted the song. “See?”
    â€œRight,” Theo said. “Thanks.”
    But he was thinking that they didn’t feel like a team. Not like when he was playing basketball. In basketball, there was all this silent movement, relying on the others to go where they were supposed to, to run out and help you when you were trapped. To feed you the ball when you were open. The Brain Train was five overachievers who didn’t play well with others, answering questions as if they were by themselves at home in their rooms. How was that a team?
    Just then, Mr. J appeared in the doorway holding a grocery bag. He grinned. “Now that music appreciation is over, who’s ready for sudden death?”

EVERYONE scrambled to set up their chessboards, arranging the pieces as they had been left the last time they’d all played “sudden death.” As Theo carefully placed the queen and rooks, he felt especially confident about his chances of finally beating Mr. J.
    No one ever had. Yet.
    â€œTunes!” Mr. J suddenly barked, pointing at him. He then sang, “‘I went to Kansas City on a Friday.’ What’s the next lyric? Go!”
    â€œâ€˜By Saturday I learned a thang or two.’ Title: ‘Everything’s Up to Date in Kansas City.’ From the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical Oklahoma! ”
    â€œVery good. Now move.”
    Sudden death involved playing Mr. J in a game of chess while he shouted out questions from each kid’s special area of knowledge. His theory was that if they could answer questions while concentrating on chess, they wouldn’t feel as pressured in the real competition. It seemed to work. In their first Aca-lympic match of the season, two weeks ago against Fullerton, they’d won. Not just won, but crushed them into oblivion, 145–23. However, Fullerton was always a bottom-feeder team that rarely made the regional tournament, so he’d warned them not to get cocky.
    Mr. J stood in front of Daryl’s chessboard. Daryl finally moved his queen. Mr. J studied the pieces for three seconds, and then moved his knight. “Checkmate in six moves,” he said, slapping the clock. Daryl frowned in disbelief as if he’d just been told he had an extra ear growing out of his neck.
    â€œHow? I’ve got your rook and both bishops and I’m closing in on your other rook.”
    Mr. J said, “Where does the word ‘algebra’ come from?”
    Daryl looked up, confused.
    Mr. J snapped his fingers. “Come on, come on, Daryl. This game is lost anyway. Focus on what you still can win.”
    â€œYou’re bluffing. Trying to rattle me because I’m about to beat you.” He slid his queen across the board and knocked over Mr. J’s rook. He looked up at Mr. J with a delighted grin. “Warned ya.” He slapped the clock.
    Mr. J instantly hopped his knight over Daryl’s pawn. “Check. Next you’re going to go here, since it’s your only move.” He tapped the square with his