Athlete vs. Mathlete: Double Dribble by W. C. Mack Read Free Book Online

thought.
    Especially when they jumped up in the air and bumped their chests together.
    I tried to imagine Russ and me pulling a move like that, but all I could picture was Russ wiping out.
    Once Coach let us break huddle, I went straight to the basket to take a few practice shots of my own. When he put me in, I was going to have to seriously shine.
    And I did during the warm-up.
    I made a couple of layups, nice and easy, trying to concentrate on the good stuff. Like the sound of everybody’s shoes squeaking against the floor, and hearing how excited my teammates were about the game.
    I took a deep breath.
    I loved basketball and I wasn’t going to let a short ride on the bench change that.
    After a couple of minutes of dribbling and shooting, I noticed that the Matthews brothers were dribbling, too. But they were bouncing the balls under their legs andaround their backs, like they were the freakin’ Harlem Globetrotters.
    I mean,
come on
.
    Before I could even try to copy some of their moves, the ref blew his whistle. I took another deep breath and started walking toward the bench.
    When I passed my new teammates, they high-fived each other, which was something me and my uncoordinated brother could never do, and shouted, “Twin it to win it!”
    I looked at Russ, who shook his head.
    As the players lined up for the tip-off, the two of us sat together, our eyes glued to our teammates.
    When the ref tossed the ball, Paul easily tapped it over to a Twinvader, and I could see why Coach wanted three big guys up there. The twin passed to his brother, over the heads and waving hands of the West Slope players.
    I watched Mitch and Marcus weave through the other players, taking huge strides the shorter kids needed two or three steps to match.
    One of the twins spun around and whipped a bounce pass to his brother, who dribbled a couple of times, then fired the ball back with another no-look pass, perfectly on target.
    The first twin went for the basket and scored the first two points of the game, like it was nothing.
    As I watched them play, I saw how they moved together and how each brother always seemed to know exactly wherethe other one was on the court. I didn’t think they could read each other’s minds, like my sci-fi-loving brother did, but he was right about them being “in tune” with each other.
    Too bad I didn’t like the song.
    I watched one of the twins throw the ball toward the basket, and I knew we were in for
another
alley-oop. The second one jumped into the air at just the right moment and scored. It was like they’d planned out the whole game six months ago and practiced each move, over and over again, so they’d look like pros.
    It was spooky.
    But even I had to admit it was awesome. Ugh.
    â€œYou’re up, Evans,” Coach said, near the end of the first quarter.
    I looked at Russ, who shrugged.
    â€œThat was Evans, plural. Both of you get out there,” Coach said.
    He didn’t have to tell me twice. (Well, actually, I guess he did.)
    I can’t even describe how happy I was to be bumping Mitch and Marcus back to the bench, even if it was only for a few minutes.
    They’d done a ton of damage while they’d been playing, racking up seventeen points between them. Sure, that damage had also put us in the lead.
    But still.
    I ran toward the twins, shouting, “Subbing for Matthews” because I wasn’t totally sure which one I was replacing.
    I felt like a hero coming home, even though the bench was only a few feet away from the game. I could almost hear the crowd breathe a sigh of relief as they watched me jog across the hardwood.
    The Matthews boys were good, but they were still strangers.
    Everybody knew they could count on the Evans twins.
    Russ was right beside me, and it felt awesome, knowing that my brother and me were about to be back in business.
    I heard a girl scream, “Let’s see that Russell Hustle!”
    I’d gotten