Double Team by Amar'e Stoudemire Read Free Book Online

he said, smiling.
    I wasn’t sure I could. I’d been raised on sirs and ma’ams , misters and misses .
    â€œSorry about the, well, the score,” I said.
    â€œYou did your part,” he said.
    â€œThanks, that’s what people keep saying.”
    â€œDoesn’t sound like you believe ’em.”
    I thought about that for a second. “I guess I just don’t like to lose,” I said.
    â€œNeither did I,” he said.
    That made me feel a little better.
    â€œListen,” he said, “I have a tournament of my own every year. It’s invitation-only, and this is the part where I invite you.”
    He handed me a postcard. It had a sweet photo ofOvertime, back in his prime, soaring through the air for a monster jam. Underneath it said: Fifth Annual Overtime Invitational: Florida’s Best, Put to the Test!
    Wow , I thought. Actually, I might have said it out loud.
    â€œYou interested?” said Overtime.
    â€œOf course,” I said, still looking at the slick-looking card. I turned it over and there was an address in Polk County and some other information. “Absolutely!”
    I turned the card back over and looked at his picture one more time. Then I flipped it back again. “Oh, wait,” I said, reading a little more. “What about my team?”
    â€œWell, like I said, it’s invitation-only,” he said. “But one of the guys I invited has already asked about you.”
    â€œReally?” I said. “Who?”
    He pointed back out to the court. Jammer was still standing next to the table. He wasn’t holding a trophy over his head like the last time I saw him. He had something else in his hand: the same postcard I had in mine.
    â€œWhoa,” I said.
    Overtime gave a little laugh. “All right, I’ll see you there, Amar’e,” he said. “It was real nice to meet you.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Yes, sir. And thanks!”
    My smile was so wide as he walked away that I felt it pushing my ears higher on my head. If I was going to be on the same court as Jammer again, I was glad it would be as his teammate. And it was cool to know he felt the same way.
    Then I finished reading the card, and my ears fell right back to where they started. When I heard sneakers slapping the ground behind me, I slipped the card in my pocket and turned around.
    â€œWhat did he say?” said Deuce.
    â€œYeah, what?” said Mike.
    â€œHe said, uh, it was nice to meet me,” I said.
    â€œReally?” said Deuce. “Wow.”
    â€œCool,” said Mike.
    And it was true: He did say that. It wasn’t all he said, of course, but I wasn’t sure how to tell them about that part yet. I wasn’t even sure what I was going to do about it. I just kept picturing the last line on the back of the card. It was the date of the invitational: Join us on the 14th.

I was home by four o’clock, sitting at the kitchen table with a big sandwich I’d just made, a glass of milk, and the postcard on the table in front of me. I just kind of stared at it as I ate, like I was expecting the little picture of Overtime to jump right out of the card and onto the table.
    I wished it would. At least then I’d have someone to talk to about this. I had big news and no one to share it with. Dad was still at work. As busy as he was right now, he’d probably work until it got dark out. Junior had dropped me off on his way back to his own job. He was working a night shift for the guy who covered his day shift. Normally with news this big, I’d talk to Deuce or Mike. Not this time. Obviously.
    I finished my sandwich, finished my milk, and looked at the card. There was someone I could talk to. I walked over and picked up the phone. I didn’t have to look up the number. I knew it by heart. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Then someone picked up. It was my half brother.
    â€œHello?” he said.
    â€œHey,