Athlete vs. Mathlete Read Online Free

wall.
    â€œYeah, in North Carolina. Big deal.”
    â€œHello?
Michael Jordan
is from North Carolina.”
    Chris suddenly looked all excited. “Baxter coached Jordan?”
    I didn’t really say that, but if Coach taught there and Jordan went to school there, it was possible.
    Wasn’t it?
    I just smiled.
    â€œNo way,” Paul whispered. “That’s awesome.”
    â€œMichael Jordan?” Nicky asked. “
The
Michael Jordan?”
    I nodded.
    â€œMaybe tryouts will be worth it,” Paul said. “I mean, if he coached Jordan, the guy’s gotta know what he’s doing.”
    â€œYeah,” Nicky said, nodding slowly. “He might be tough, but that’s how you make champions, right?”
    â€œThat’s right,” I told the guys. “And we came pretty close to being champions last year. Maybe Coach Baxter will take us over the top.”
    â€œEither him or Russell,” Chris said, chuckling.
    â€œWhat?” Paul turned to stare at me. “Russell’s trying out?”
    Here we go
.
    â€œWait,” Nicky said, “you mean your
brother
, Russell?”
    I nodded, hoping they’d drop it.
    Yeah, right.
    â€œCan he play?” Nate asked.
    â€œNo,” Chris said, shaking his head. “Not at all.”
    â€œHey,” I growled, getting ticked off. “He’s only trying out because Coach is making him.”
    â€œBecause he’s
tall
,” Chris explained.
    â€œBut he has no coordination,” Paul said, laughing. “I saw the kid almost kill himself with a yo-yo in fourth grade.”
    The rest of the guys cracked up, and my hands slowly balled into fists.
    There was no way I’d let Russ make a fool of me … I mean
himself
, on Wednesday.
    No way.

    After dinner on Friday night, Dad put on his Bellows jersey, even though the guy retired like a hundred years ago. I grabbed my old Tim Camden T-shirt, from before he got traded, and put it on while I ran downstairs.
    With or without my favorite player, it was game night in Portland! I couldn’t wait to see the Blazers rock the Rose Garden.
    I got the drinks while Dad made a big bowl of popcorn that was so buttery it looked wet.
    â€œThis is gonna be our year,” he said, handing me a napkin.
    â€œWorld championship, here we come!” I practically shouted.
    If we made it to the playoffs, anyway.
    The truth is, I wasn’t totally sure about some of the newplayers the Blazers had signed. “I just can’t believe they traded Camden,” I told Dad, for probably the hundredth time since it happened. “Do you think—”
    â€œRuss!” Dad interrupted, when my brother walked by the doorway. “Come and join us.”
    What?
    Russell didn’t watch basketball. He studied, read in his room, or watched weird sci-fi movies in the basement.
    My brother froze, like he didn’t know what to do.
    â€œUh, I was just going to start my new Franz Helsen book,” he said, holding it up so we could see it. The cover had a bunch of wizards and something that looked way too much like a unicorn on it.
    â€œFranz who?” Dad asked.
    â€œHelsen,” Russ said, like we should have heard of him. “It’s the seventh book in the series.” He started talking faster, so I knew he was excited. “I’ve been waiting for it since school started.”
    â€œYou can still read it,” Dad said, patting the seat next to him. “Just hang out with us and watch the game for a minute or two first.”
    I looked at my brother and thought about how the guys in the locker room had laughed when they heard he was trying out for the team.
    Hmm
.
    Even though basketball was my thing with Dad, Russellshould probably learn about the game before tryouts. And knowing something about positions and rules would help when we practiced on the weekend, too.
    I moved over so he could sit down, even though it would wreck my view of