Athlete vs. Mathlete: Double Dribble Read Online Free PDF Page A

court.
    The twins had each made another basket by the time we got to them.
    â€œHey,” 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.
    â€œHey,” they said at the exact same time. It was like surround-sound TV. No joke.
    â€œUh, I’m Owen, and this is my brother, Russ.”
    They both looked us over. “I’m Mitch, and he’s Marcus,” one finally said.
    â€œThey call us M&M,” the other added.
    â€œPeanut or chocolate?” I asked, chuckling.
    They didn’t even crack a smile.
    â€œOr the Twofer,” Marcus added, then explained, “We’re twins.”
    Like they needed to explain
that
.
    â€œSo are we,” Russell piped up. “Fraternal twins, I mean.”
    â€œYup,” I said, smiling at both of them.
    â€œDid you just wink at me?” Mitch asked, looking surprised.
    â€œWhat? No.”
    â€œHe had trouble in the shower this morning,” my brother explained.
    Trouble in the shower?
Come on, Russ
.
    â€œI got some shampoo in my eye, okay?” I muttered.
    â€œ
Okay
,” Mitch said, giving his twin a look like I was speaking another language.
    â€œSo, what do you guys play?” I asked. “I mean, what positions?”
    â€œForward,” Marcus said, starting to dribble the ball slowly.
    â€œBoth of you?”
    â€œUh,
yeah
,” Mitch said, bouncing his own ball as they shared another look.
    â€œAnd you’re from Minnesota?”
    â€œTwin Cities,” they said together and nodded.
    â€œVery funny,” I snorted, and they shared another look.
    â€œMinneapolis 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?
    â€œSo,” I said, pointing to their shirts, “you guys like the Timberwolves, huh?”
    â€œWolves,” one of them said.
    â€œYeah,” the other one said. “Just the Wolves.”
    I tried again. “I guess you’ll be swapping those out for Blazer gear pretty soon.”
    â€œYeah, right,” one said.
    â€œWhy bother? The Pioneers are already wearing Wolves colors,” the other one said, laughing.
    â€œNo, 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?
    â€œSo are you guys—” I began to ask, but the twins cut me off.
    â€œWe 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.
    â€œI don’t like this,” he said quietly.
    â€œNeither do I.”

Perfect Square
    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