by W. C. Mack
“You spelled ‘fraternal’ wrong,” he said half a second after he started reading.
“Geez. Don’t correct it; read it.”
Luckily, it only took him a minute or so.
When he was done, his face was pink and he was smiling. “Thank you, Owen.”
“You like it?” I asked nervously.
“Definitely.” He nodded, then asked, “You really feel that way about me?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Wow,” he whispered. “So, does this mean you’re not jealous of me anymore?” He sounded kind of disappointed.
“Maybe a little bit, but I’ll get over it. And I already know how.”
“How?”
That was easy.
I had a brand-new plan, and it was better than being the go-to guy. It was better than being selfish about scoring or greedy about gear. And it was definitely better than getting smoked by thirty-two points.
My brand-new plan was all about teamwork.
“Look, you’ve got skills and I’ve got skills. Separately, we’re good, but together, along with the rest of the Pioneers … we’re dangerous.”
“But when you and I played together before—”
“That was before,” I told him. “From now on, two Evans brothers on the court at the same time is going to be …” I searched for the right word and it only took me a second to find it. “Magical.”
“You think so?” Russ asked doubtfully.
“Totally.”
He didn’t say anything right away and I hoped what I’d said was sinking in. I didn’t know what else I could do to convince him.
Finally, he nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“Awesome!”
“I said I’ll think about it.”
“I know,” I told him. “I’m cool with that.”
I couldn’t believe how happy I was that we were talking again. For the first time ever, I actually felt like my brother was my friend. It was amazing.
I hung out in Russ’s room for a little while after that, and we talked about stuff we’d never gone over before.
One of those things was this twerp on his Masters of the Mind team named Arthur Richardson the Third. It turned out the kid had been kind of pushing my brother around and trying to take over.
And I’d had no idea.
Russell told me all about it, and when he was done, I had only one thing to say.
“Give him peanuts.”
“What?” Russ asked, blinking hard.
“You said he told you guys that peanuts are like grenades to him, so—”
“Owen,” Russell interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t want to kill him.”
Geez. Did he want my help or not? “Okay, what if you fed him something and just told him there were peanuts in it?” I suggested.
Russ looked at me like I was crazy. “What would that do?”
“Freak him out for a few minutes, which would be awesome to watch.”
Russell shook his head again. “I don’t think we’re attacking this from the right angle. Just forget the peanuts for now, okay?”
I nodded, and we were both quiet while we thought of a way to get rid of him.
“What’s the college he wants to go to?” I asked.
“Harvard.”
I was pretty sure I’d heard of it before. “Where’s that?”
Russ stared at me like I’d just asked him what my own name was. “Are you joking?”
“No.” Was it that dumb a question?
He looked like he wanted to say something, but he cleared his throat instead. Finally, he told me, “It’s in Massachusetts.”
“Okay. Do they have any big teams or anything?”
“Are we talking about sports?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re the Crimson, Owen. They have teams for everything, but I think they’re known for rowing.”
“That works. And what about these college applications Arthur talks about? Do they want kids to be total brains and that’s it?”
He thought for a second. “I’ve never looked at one, but I’ve always heard it’s important to be well-rounded.”
“Like, fat?”
“What?” He looked confused for a second, then sighed. “Well-rounded means interested in more than one thing.”
“Like playing basketball and baseball?”
“No.” He sighed again, and I could tell this Arthur kid had really gotten on his nerves. “Like basketball and … let’s say singing.”
“A singing basketball player?” I asked. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Okay, a singing basketball player who’s also part of a science or book club.”
“Gotcha,” I said, nodding as an idea came to me. “So, if you let Arthur know that being a brainiac isn’t going to guarantee he gets into Havard—”
“Harvard,” Russ corrected.
“Right, Harvard. Anyway, if he starts to think that one more nerdy club won’t mean as much as playing a sport—”
“Or volunteering somewhere,” Russ said, and I could tell by his smile that he was getting it.
“Yeah,” I told him. “Put enough pressure on being ‘well-rounded’ and he’ll quit on his own.”
“You really think so?” Russ asked.
I rolled my eyes. “Why did you ask me to help?”
“Because I thought you were …” He stopped, looking uncomfortable.
“You can say it.”
“Because I thought you were evil.”
“Evil?” I choked. “Okay, I was thinking of something more like crafty, but I guess ‘evil’ fits.”
“Not every day or anything,” he rushed to say. “Just sometimes.”
“Gotcha,” I said. “Anyway, you’ve got to trust me. The only way you’re going to get rid of this kid is by peanuts—”
“Owen …,” he warned me.
“Or by outsmarting him.” I smiled. “And Russ, you’re not just smart, you’re a freaking genius.”
Bonding Energy
On the day before our district challenge, I rounded up the rest of the Masters of the Mind team and explained Owen’s plan.
“You really think it will work?” Sara asked doubtfully.
Nitu slowly nodded. “He won’t want to be part of the team if he thinks he’ll look better doing something else.”
“When are we going to do this?” Sara asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” I told her.
“What?” Sara gasped. “But the district challenge—”
“We’ve got to take care of this,” I told the group. “The sooner the better.” It was great to feel like a leader again. And I owed that feeling to my brother.
“I’m with Russell,” Nitu said.
“Me, too.” Jason smiled. “Maybe we’re not doomed, after all.”
The rest of the school day was, as Owen would say, awesome.
I scored 98 percent on my math test and got an A on my social studies report. Everything felt like it was back on track, and my focus was right where it should be.
But at the same time, I missed basketball. I missed the blast of Coach’s whistle, the roar of the crowd, and the feeling that we Pioneers were in it together. I missed the squeak of my Nikes against the floor and the sight of my twin racing down the court.
“So play,” Nitu said when I told her how I felt. “Owen practically begged you to go back to the team, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but there’s the practice schedule, games, my Masters commitments, homework, Math Club. Basketball takes a lot of time, and—”
“Russell,” she interrupted. “You’re a professional problem solver. Figure it out.”
So I did. I sat down during my lunch hour and made up a weekly schedule. Once I saw all the practices, games, and meetings in print, I also saw how much space there was around them. I did have time to do it all. I just needed to organize myself a little better.
I felt a smile appear on my face.
I would be a
Pioneer again.
The next morning, I woke up excited about the district competition. If everything went according to plan, in a couple of hours Arthur would be off the team and we’d be on our way to Regionals.
My bag was already packed for the trip to the community center, so I climbed into the van with everything I needed, including schematics and tons of notes.
“Move over,” Owen grunted, climbing in next to me.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“I’m coming.” He shrugged, buckling his seat belt.
“Coming where?” I asked.
“The meet,” Dad said, opening the front passenger door. “Masters of the Mind.”
“You’re coming?” I gasped.
“We want to see you in action,” Owen said, elbowing me.
I couldn’t believe it! No one but Mom had ever watched Masters before. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Owen said.
When we got to River Glen Community Center, I caught up with Sara at the front door.
“Nervous?” I asked, pulling it open for her.
“A little,” she whispered.
The gym had been divided into sections. There was a large space with tables and chairs for teams to be tested on word or math problems, and the rest was split into eight smaller areas, one for each competing school. Those areas each had a table and a cardboard box filled with all the ingredients on our challenge lists, checked and measured to make sure everything was fair. Teams weren’t allowed to bring anything but paperwork in there.
We would prepare for the egg drop at the table, closely watched by judges.
I glanced down at my schematic, wishing we’d had a little more time to test our design.
“There they are!” I heard Nitu call over the sound of the crowd. “Russ! Sara! We’re over here!”
We joined them under the Lewis and Clark Middle School sign that marked our territory.
“Ready?” I asked, looking from one face to the next.
“Yup,” Jason said, waving to his dad in the stands.
“Absolutely.” Nitu nodded. “My whole family is here.”
“Mine, too,” I said, grinning.
“Can we just get down to business?” Arthur asked.
I exchanged a look with Nitu. “Uh, sure.”
Jason and I left to register at the front desk while the others went over our plans.
“Arthur’s mad because his dad sent the donut guy to watch instead of coming himself.”
I stared at him. “He sent his personal assistant?”
When Jason nodded, I felt sorry for Arthur.
But that didn’t last for long.
“Because it’s stupid,” I heard him saying, when we returned to the team.
“What’s stupid?” I asked.
“Our design.” He sniffed. “Jason’s design. It will never work.”
“It worked at practice,” Nitu reminded him.
“Once,” he growled.
“Let’s focus on preparing for the word problems right now,” I said. “We’re up in fifteen minutes.”
The five of us sat on the floor in a circle, but only four of us knew what we were going to do.
“You know, Arthur, I was thinking about what you said about university applications the other day,” Nitu said, after the first two practice rounds. “It turns out that my mom’s friend can help me get into volunteering at the hospital.”
Before Arthur could say anything, Sara said, “That’s a really good idea. I’ve heard that universities love volunteer work.”
“Me, too,” I said, nodding.
“Art, too,” Sara continued. “I’m sure I’ll be mentioning my pottery and painting when the time comes.”
Right on cue, Jason joined in. “I’m too busy with this team and music to do much else.”
It was my turn again, according to the script we’d come up with. “But marching band will be great for your application.”
And just as we’d rehearsed, I put the nail in Arthur’s coffin.
“Don’t you think it’s unfair that we’re supposed to be so well-rounded?” I asked the group. “We spend so much time studying and working on academic stuff … I think academics should count for more.”
“But they don’t,” Jason said, then sighed.
“That’s why I think it’s so cool you’re playing basketball now, Russell,” Sara added. “You’re a double threat.”
“Double threat?” Arthur asked, looking worried.
“You know, brains and brawn,” Nitu said, with a smile I knew was fake. “Like a Harvard medical student who’s also captain of the rugby team.”
“Good point,” Arthur said softly. “Brains and brawn.”
We carried on for a few more minutes, just for fun, and I watched Arthur look more and more uncomfortable.
And distracted.
“How about some more practice problems?” I asked.
Sara flipped through the pages until she found some new ones. “Okay, it’s a name game. Personal names that are linked to careers. The example is Rose Bush. She’s a gardener.”
“Puns,” Nitu said, with a smile.
We had one minute to brainstorm and two minutes to answer.
Finally, I could focus on the task at hand, instead of on Arthur Richardson the Third. It felt amazing.
“Time,” Sara said, holding up her stopwatch after sixty seconds.
“I’ve got one,” Nitu said. “Sue Neighbors. She’s a lawyer.”
“Ally Gator,” Sara said. “A veterinarian.”
“Nice one,” I said, smiling. “How about Cliff Hanger, mountain climber?”
Jason laughed. “I like it. Jack Hammer, construction worker.”
“Good!” Nitu said. “Bill Board. He’s in advertising, like my dad.”
“Clara Nett,” Sara piped up. “Professional musician.”
“Perfect,” I told her, loving all the ideas. “I’ve got one inspired by the Pioneers. Jim Floor. He’s a basketball coach.”
“Ha!” Nitu laughed, then glanced at Arthur, who had been totally silent. “What about you?”
Arthur stared at the notes in front of him.
“Arthur?” Jason asked. “Have you got anything?”
He blinked a couple of times, like he was waking up. “No.”
“Nothing?” I asked, surprised.
Arthur cleared his throat. “I must have missed the instructions.” He glanced at Sara. “Your voice is too quiet.”
Of course, her voice was fine. The truth was, we’d scared Arthur enough that he’d stopped listening.
“You’ve got something on your notepad,” Jason said, pointing.
“It’s nothing,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
“Just tell us,” Nitu said, with a shrug.
Arthur sighed with frustration. “Louis Zurcitti.”
“I don’t get it,” Jason said.
I didn’t either.
“He’s my father’s accountant.”
“I still don’t get it,” Nitu said, shaking her head.
Arthur’s face turned red. “It isn’t a pun. It’s just the name of a real person. I misunderstood, all right?”
In a couple of seconds, he’d packed up his things and told us he had somewhere he needed to be.
“But we’re about to compete,” I reminded him.
“Forget it,” he snapped, and walked away.
When he was gone, we quietly cheered, then Sara started giggling.
“What?” I asked.
“I shouldn’t say it. It’s not very nice.”
“Go for it,” Nitu urged her.
“The name he gave.” She started giggling again, pointing at the notepad Arthur had left behind. “I think it was Arthur’s destination.”
We all stared at her, confused.
“If you shorten Louis to Lou, it’s Lou Zurcitti.”
“Loser City,” Jason snorted.
The Masters of the Mind team cracked up.
> We’d rid ourselves of Arthur and soon it was time to do the rest.
Our brains were warmed up for the judges, and we raced through three problems like they were nothing.
“Nice work, guys!” I said as we left the testing area. “I have a good feeling about this.”
“Me, too,” Nitu said, grinning. “Right now, I have a good feeling about … everything!” She paused for a second to think. “No matter how the challenge ends, I’m happy to be here with friends.”
Glad we were back to rhyming, I chimed in with, “When they put us to the test, we can only do our best.”
And Sara added, “If we don’t win, have no fear, we’ll have another chance next year.”
We all looked to Jason, who smiled and shrugged as he told us. “I know that I’m supposed to grin, but honestly, I’d rather win.”
And we all cracked up again.
We checked the scoreboard an hour later and saw that we were tied with Beaumont for first place.
When it was time for the egg-drop challenge, we moved to our assigned area. The cardboard box filled with ingredients sat waiting for us.
We knew that two things had to happen for us to win the district competition:
1. Our egg had to land in perfect condition.
2. Beaumont’s had to crack or break.
Before I could think about it too much, the Beaumont team formed a huddle and started chanting something I could barely hear.
I glanced at my teammates, who looked worried.
I thought of the Pioneers and put one hand out between us. Jason looked confused until I signaled for him to put his hand in as well. The girls did the same.
“Okay,” I said. “Lewis and Clark on three.”
“On three what?” Nitu asked.
“When I say three,” I told her.
“Why are you saying three?” Sara asked.
I shook my head. “Just shout Lewis and Clark when you hear it,” I told her, then took a deep breath. “One, two … three.”
“Lewis and Clark!” we all shouted at once.
We were ready.
And so were the other teams, the judges, and our audience. So, when all the competitors were in their positions, we got started.
In practice, we’d tried my net idea, but it turned out to work much better in my head than it did in real life. It had only taken four broken eggs to convince me that we needed to try something new.
