by W. C. Mack
I wished I’d figured it all out sooner.
But I still had one more night and the tournament to make it right.
I checked my watch and saw that there were only a couple of minutes left before my final basketball session started. I jogged the rest of the way back, ready to make some changes.
“Where were you?” Jackson asked when I met up with him on the court.
“Just doing some thinking.”
“Coach wants us to split into teams for a scrimmage.”
“Then let’s pull some guys together,” I said, scanning the group.
None of them would look at me.
I took a deep breath, knowing that was my own fault.
“Jackson?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you convince anyone to play with me?”
It was a pretty embarrassing thing to have to ask, but I’d put myself in that position.
“Definitely,” he said, sounding way more sure of it than I was.
It took a few minutes (which felt like hours while I stood by myself and felt like a loser), but Jackson managed to talk Big Mike, Danny, and T. J. into joining us.
“Hey,” I said, to the group, but all I got back was one nod from Danny.
At least it was a start.
We got into position and even though I wanted to be a forward, I let the other guys have the prime positions and moved to guard.
Be less aggressive.
When Coach blew his whistle, the other guys won the tip-off and started dribbling down the court toward me.
I got into a crouch and kept my eyes on the ball.
When it got close enough, I made my move and with one lightning-fast strike, I had it.
I knew that if I’d had possession just a day earlier, I would have gone for the basket.
Don’t be a ball hog.
I looked left, then right, getting a feel for where my teammates were. I thought back to Pioneer practice with Coach Baxter and how he’d wanted us to make five passes before a shot.
That felt like ten million years ago.
I couldn’t see past the waving arms, so I called out, “Who’s open?”
There was stunned silence for a few seconds, then I heard Big Mike shout, “Over here!”
I passed him the ball and jogged down the court, concentrating not only on it, but on where my teammates were.
Big Mike took a shot that bounced off the rim, but T. J. caught the rebound.
“I’m open!” I shouted.
He hesitated, then threw me the ball. I bounced it a couple of times. All I wanted to do was find a clear shot, but I ignored the basket and found a clear pass instead.
I tossed the ball to Danny, who looked totally shocked for a second, then nodded once and went for the hoop.
The ball bounced off the backboard and dropped right through the net.
“Nice one!” I called out to him, clapping a couple of times as I ran back down the court.
The next time we had the ball, I let Jackson take the shot, then Danny. I passed every time I had the chance and didn’t go for the points once.
“What’s going on?” Big Mike asked when we took a five-minute break.
“We’re winning,” I told him, with a shrug.
“No, what’s going on with you?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m trying to be a better teammate.”
“Cool,” he said. “You know, you’re a pretty awesome player when you’re not showboating.”
I guess I knew who’d made that comment.
The word still stung a bit, but I knew it was true.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Danny said. “You keep this up and we’re golden tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” I told them. “I’ll keep it up.”
“Awesome,” Danny said, giving me a high five.
And it was.
On Friday morning, I woke up feeling kind of bummed that it was the last day of camp. Then I lay in bed for a few minutes, thinking about the awesome prank we’d pulled the night before.
Plastic wrap on the doors. I swear, my brother was a genius.
I showered and got dressed, then stopped by Jackson’s room so we could hit the cafeteria together.
“Are you okay?” I asked when I saw his face.
He had huge bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept at all.
“Yeah. I’m just nervous about playing in front of my dad.”
“Really?” I couldn’t imagine feeling that way about my own dad.
“He’ll tell me I did a great job, like he always does. But this time I want it to be true.”
“Hey, you played awesome yesterday.”
“You think so?” he asked, like he didn’t believe me.
“Definitely. The five of us make a good team.”
He was quiet for a minute. “You know, he’ll be pretty happy that I made some friends this time. Like, real friends, you know?”
I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.
After a short session in the morning, all of the campers had to go back to the dorm to pack up their stuff so we’d be ready to leave after the tournament.
I had to get three guys to sit on my suitcase, just so I could zip it up. I hadn’t even worn half the stuff I brought!
Around ten o’clock, the parents started to show up.
After Mom and Dad gave me and Russ some huge hugs (I would have been embarrassed, but all of the other parents were doing the exact same thing), Dad headed over to the gym with me while Mom and Russ left for his Olympic thing.
“Did you have a good time?” Dad asked, while we were crossing the courtyard.
“Definitely,” I told him. “I learned a lot.”
How weird that I wasn’t talking about basketball.
I helped Dad find a spot in the bleachers and was about to head down to the court, when he said, “Whoa! Is that Roberto Farina?”
“Yeah,” I said, taking a peek at Jackson’s dad. The guy was huge! “His son was here for camp.”
When I met up with my teammates down on the floor, we only had a couple of minutes until the tip-off for the first game.
“Are we ready to do this?” I asked the guys.
“Totally,” Danny said, while the others nodded.
I noticed that Jackson still looked totally freaked out.
We made it through the first game like it was nothing. Our communication was awesome, the ball handling was sweet, and the points just kept coming.
I concentrated really hard on passing the ball to whoever had the best shot.
“You need to shoot, too, Owen,” T. J. said when we took a break.
“Yeah,” Danny said. “You’ve gotta go for it.”
I listened to what they said and when we got back to the game, I took the shots I was sure of, but passed when I wasn’t.
Game two was a snap as well, and when it came down to the final showdown between us and the remaining team, I felt like the tournament was ours.
We played like a well-oiled machine, and it didn’t even matter whether I was the piece that scored or assisted.
It just felt awesome to be part of it.
But when it came down to the final seconds, we were tied.
T. J. dribbled down the court and passed to Big Mike, who spun around to lose a guard. He passed to Danny and I matched their pace. Once we got close to the basket, I realized that I was wide open.
I didn’t have to say anything, because Danny saw me and hurled the ball.
The game-winning shot would be the easiest one of the day.
I couldn’t believe it was mine to take!
And that’s when I saw Jackson.
Obviously, I’m all about winning. I’m into scoring baskets and making plays. But in that second, I realized that every now and then you have to take a time-out.
“Jackson!” I shouted, holding up the ball.
He blinked hard and stared at me until he realized what I was doing. Surprised, he lifted his hands
in the air.
I sent the ball flying over a sea of arms and straight to my target.
And in the final two seconds on the clock, he took the shot.
Swish.
He won the game for us.
We all started jumping around and whooping, but as loud as we were, I swear I heard Roberto Farina cheering over the rest of the crowd.
I stood next to Jackson while the awards for the week were handed out. And when Roberto Farina put the MVP medal around T. J’s neck, I didn’t even mind.
Well, of course I minded. I wanted it for myself. But the thing was, no one should get an award for one day of doing the right thing. An MVP got it right all the time—in practice, at game time, and even off the court.
T. J. was the right choice.
When it was all over, every camper was smiling, knowing what an awesome week it had been.
“Thank you, Owen,” Jackson said as I started to head toward the stairs to meet Dad.
“You’re the one who scored,” I reminded him.
“You know what I mean.”
And I did.
“Hey, can I get your phone number or e-mail or whatever?” I asked. “I want to stay in touch with the team.”
“Sure.”
We shared contact info with each other and the pranksters, all of us promising to try to come back next year.
“So,” Jackson said once we were alone in the crowd. He looked over at his dad, who was surrounded by people shaking his hand and asking for autographs. The NBA star kept moving toward Jackson, wearing a gigantic smile. “I guess you want to meet my dad.”
I thought about what it would be like to wonder if people only liked you because of who your dad was.
It would totally stink.
As much as I wanted to meet the legendary Roberto Farina, pose for a photo with him, and shake his hand, I let it go.
“Nah,” I said.
Jackson blinked hard. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” I told him. “Maybe I can meet him at camp next year or something.”
“For sure,” he said, grinning.
I said good-bye and watched Jackson cut through the crowd. I smiled when Roberto Farina, NBA superstar, lifted his kid off the ground in a huge hug.
It was pretty cool.
“Hey,” Dad said, from behind me.
I turned around and he gave me a high five, then a hug of my own.
When he let go, he said, “Mom just texted to say that Russ got the award for most improved athlete.”
“Cool,” I said, grinning. My brother, the athlete.
“So, are you ready to head out?”
“Yeah. No, wait! Do you have your camera?”
“I sure do,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket.
“Can you take a picture of me?” I glanced at the crowded court, then back at Dad. “And maybe catch Farina in the background?”
Putting Jackson’s feelings first didn’t mean I had to walk away empty-handed.
When Dad got the perfect shot, we walked toward the stairs.
“You know, you were pretty amazing out there, O,” he said, rubbing my head. “I’m really proud of you.”
“It’s just basketball,” I told him.
“Hey,” he said, looking me in the eye. “That last pass was a lot bigger than basketball.”
I turned to see Jackson grinning at his father and knew Dad was right.
Some things really were bigger than basketball.
Not a lot of things, but some.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my Kiwi agent, Sally Harding, for our twelve-year partnership and the eleven books she has guided to publication (so far!).
Huge thanks as well to the fine folks at the Cooke Agency for their kindness and diplomacy when dealing with fretful authors.
And finally, I’d like to give big shout-outs to Nicole Gastonguay, designer of three amazing covers for the Athlete vs. Mathlete series, and to Bloomsbury’s copyediting team for making sense of it all.
Note on the Author
W. C. Mack is the author of all the books in the Athlete vs. Mathlete series, including Athlete vs. Mathlete and Double Dribble, as well as numerous books for children. Raised in Vancouver, she now lives in Portland, Oregon.
www.wcmack.com
By the Same Author
Athlete vs. Mathlete
Double Dribble
Time-Out
Copyright © 2014 by Wendy C. Smith
All rights reserved.You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. For information, write to Bloomsbury Press, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York, 10018.
First published in the United States of America in July 2014
by Bloomsbury Children’s Books
www.bloomsbury.com
Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mack, W. C.
Athlete vs. mathlete : time-out / by W. C. Mack.
pages cm
Summary: Owen wins the last spot at the local basketball camp, leaving his twin, Russ, to join the Multisport Sampler camp, but while Russ is inspired to study various sports and make sense of them, Owen is frustrated by not being the star.
ISBN 978-1-61963-303-2 (e-book)
[1. Twins—Fiction. 2. Brothers—Fiction. 3. Sports camps—Fiction. 4. Competition (Psychology)—Fiction. 5. Basketball—Fiction. 6. Sports—Fiction.] I. Title. II. Title: Athlete versus mathlete, time-out. III. Title: Time-out.
PZ7.M18996Atm 2014 [Fic]—dc23 2013038577
Visit www.bloomsbury.com to find out more about our authors and their booksYou will find extracts, author interviews, author events and you can sign up for newsletters to be the first to hear about our latest releases and special offers