Athlete vs. Mathlete: Double Dribble (4 page)

“You know, I haven't even
seen
these guys yet. Are they in any of your classes?” I asked both of them.

“Not so far,” Chris said.

Russ shook his head. “I doubt they'll pop up in any of my advanced classes.”

He was probably right about that. Russ was the only mathlete I'd ever heard of, so the chances of the Minnesota
twins being star players
and
geniuses were zero to none, as Dad would say.

When we got to school, Chris and I walked to our lockers, which were right next to each other, while Russ headed upstairs.

While I was pulling out my books, I kept checking the hallway for a sign of the new twins. It was like looking for Waldo in one of those books I used to love. And just like Waldo, I couldn't find them anywhere.

I went to English class, hoping at least one of the new guys would be in there so I could check him out, but I was surrounded by the same old kids who'd been there all year. And four of them asked me if I was either upset or had been crying.

As far as spotting the twins went, social studies was a dead end, and so was math.

Between each class, I looked at the swarm of students packing the hallway and searched for unfamiliar faces, but I came up empty (except for some girl who handed me a tissue, thinking I'd been crying).

That was getting old.

When I met up with the Pioneers at lunch, it turned out that both twins were in Nicky Chu's art class, and they both sat at Nate's table in English.

“They're in classes
together
?” I asked.

My less-than-stellar grades and the fact that Russ was a total brainiac meant that we were separated at school. Mom was happy about that because she didn't think it was “healthy” for us to be together 24-7.

“I guess.” Nate shrugged. “And they're dressed the same again.”

“The letterman jackets?” I asked. “Kind of a show-off move, huh?”

“I don't know,” Paul said, spraying cracker crumbs all over the table as he spoke. “If I had a letterman jacket, I'd wear it all the time.”

So would I, but I didn't want to admit it.

“It's not just the jackets, anyway,” Nate said. “They've got the same shoes, jeans, and everything. They even have the same haircut.”

That was too weird for me. I never would have dressed like Russ, and not just because he had no style. I liked having my own look.

Once I knew that the twins were dressed the same again, I figured they'd be twice as easy to spot in the cafeteria, but I couldn't see them anywhere.

Those kids were like freakin' ghosts.

I made it through my afternoon classes and raced down to the locker room as soon as the final bell rang. I was excited
about practice because any time on the court was a good time, but at least half of my speed was about finally seeing our new team members.

All my practice gear was crammed into my bag, which slammed into my leg every time I took a step. I even nailed a sixth grader in the stomach when I rounded the final corner way too fast.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I gasped for breath.

He nodded, and I took off again, taking the stairs down to the locker room two at a time.

“Hey, O,” Russ said as he finished pulling up his socks.

“Hey,” I said, but barely looked at him. I saw Nicky Chu, Nate, Paul, and four other guys from the team getting ready, but no new guys. “Have you seen them yet?”

“Who?” my brother asked.

“The
twins
.”

“No,” he said. “Maybe they're already out there.”

I changed into my shorts and shirt as fast as I could and told Russ I'd catch him in the gym.

It barely took half a second for me to spot the Minnesota twins. They were supertall, with blond hair combed to one side and glued in place with some kind of hair goo.

Even though I knew what to expect, it was still weird to see two people who really did look exactly the same.

And I mean
exactly
.

They were wearing matching Timberwolves T-shirts, which would have to change, now that they were in Blazer
territory. And along with their dark-blue shorts and blue Adidas, they both wore black rubber watches or bracelets on their wrists. Even the swooshes on their stinkin' Nike socks lined up with each other.

They were taking turns practicing shots and my stomach got all twisted.

The first twin make a textbook layup, then passed the ball to his brother. Twin number two made the exact same move, just as smoothly, and I felt like I was watching an instant replay instead of two totally different (but exactly the same) kids.

It almost made me dizzy.

Russ had been right to be worried.

These guys were definitely going to throw off the team's balance.

“When Chris said identical, he meant it,” Russ whispered.

I'd been so focused, I hadn't even heard him sneak up behind me.

“No doubt,” I said, nodding.

The twins didn't say anything or even look at each other, but one caught a pass there's no way he saw coming.

Like magic.

“How did he do that?” Russ whispered.

“I have no idea,” I said.

And how did they manage to hit every single basket, too?

They were freaks of nature.

When I got tired of watching total perfection, I decided to introduce myself.

“Come on,” I told Russ, and led the way across the court.

The twins had each made another basket by the time we got to them.

“Hey,” I said.

They both stopped and turned to face me. Their faces were blank, like they hadn't decided how to feel about me yet.

Right back at you
, I thought.

“Hey,” they said at the exact same time. It was like surround-sound TV. No joke.

“Uh, I'm Owen, and this is my brother, Russ.”

They both looked us over. “I'm Mitch, and he's Marcus,” one finally said.

“They call us M&M,” the other added.

“Peanut or chocolate?” I asked, chuckling.

They didn't even crack a smile.

“Or the Twofer,” Marcus added, then explained, “We're twins.”

Like they needed to explain
that
.

“So are we,” Russell piped up. “Fraternal twins, I mean.”

“Yup,” I said, smiling at both of them.

“Did you just wink at me?” Mitch asked, looking surprised.

“What? No.”

“He had trouble in the shower this morning,” my brother explained.

Trouble in the shower?
Come on, Russ
.

“I got some shampoo in my eye, okay?” I muttered.

“
Okay
,” Mitch said, giving his twin a look like I was speaking another language.

“So, what do you guys play?” I asked. “I mean, what positions?”

“Forward,” Marcus said, starting to dribble the ball slowly.

“Both of you?”

“Uh,
yeah
,” Mitch said, bouncing his own ball as they shared another look.

“And you're from Minnesota?”

“Twin Cities,” they said together and nodded.

“Very funny,” I snorted, and they shared another look.

“Minneapolis and Saint Paul,” Russ said quietly. “They're called the Twin Cities, O.”

The conversation wasn't going quite the way I'd planned, and thanks to their moving around while they dribbled, I'd already mixed up which twin was which.

Was Marcus on the right?

“So,” I said, pointing to their shirts, “you guys like the Timberwolves, huh?”

“Wolves,” one of them said.

“Yeah,” the other one said. “Just the Wolves.”

I tried again. “I guess you'll be swapping those out for Blazer gear pretty soon.”

“Yeah, right,” one said.

“Why bother? The Pioneers are already wearing Wolves colors,” the other one said, laughing.

“No, they're—” I started to say, but he was right. Blue and white, all the way.

Why didn't we wear red, black, and white like our NBA team?

“So are you guys—” I began to ask, but the twins cut me off.

“We should be warming up,” they said, in stereo again.

They gave each other another one of their stupid looks.

I didn't want them to know it bugged me. “Cool,” I said with a nod.

Russ and I watched them walk away.

“I don't like this,” he said quietly.

“Neither do I.”

I should have felt better about the Matthews twins once I'd met them and all the mystery was gone.

But the reality that was left where the mystery used to be was worse.

It was strange to see two people look so alike, and after admiring their precisely parted hair, I couldn't help reaching up to touch the uncontrollable mop on the top of my own head.

I glanced at Owen, who is stocky and several inches shorter than I am. He always describes us as looking like a pencil and an eraser.

What if we had been born identical?

I glanced back at M&M, still amazed by how similar they were.

But even more interesting than their appearance was that they were confident, expert players with a closer connection than any brothers or sisters I'd ever seen.

They were
in tune
with each other.

And wouldn't Coach Baxter rather have two players who were in tune with each other out on the court than two who weren't?

I looked at Owen again. Never mind the tune. We weren't even listening to the same kind of music.

Why would Coach give us game time instead of the Matthews twins?

The answer was simple: he wouldn't.

I felt a shiver scurry up my spine.

Basketball had become very important to me, very quickly, and I'd never thought about losing it all so easily.

What if there wasn't room for me on the team anymore?

I was enjoying my role as the school's athlete so much, I wasn't sure how I would handle going back to being
just
the brains.

I could feel the stress building up inside me, so I started thinking about the periodic table, which usually calmed me down.

Elements that begin with “A”: actinium, aluminum, americium …

“Okay, Pioneers,” Coach Baxter shouted, then blew his whistle to call us to center court.

“Here we go,” Owen muttered.

I followed the rest of the guys over to the huddle, already missing them. They'd become my friends as well as my teammates.

I shook my head, knowing I was being unreasonable. After all, the Matthews twins hadn't replaced me.

Yet.

“I want you to meet your new teammates, Mitch and Marcus.” Coach pointed to each of the brothers. Judging by the looks on their faces, he hadn't matched the right names with the faces. “They're new transfers, from Saint Paul, Minnesota.”

The rest of the Pioneers nodded but didn't say anything.

“So,” Coach continued, “I know there's been some grumbling about tryouts, but I don't want to punish these guys because they moved here midseason.”