Free Game Changer by Margaret Peterson Haddix

COMPETITION .
    Math? KT thought. Math?
    She slammed the trophy back onto the shelf, pounding it down so hard that the whole shelf shook. She grabbed the next trophy over, which was topped with another golden calculator. The plaque on this one read FIRST PLACE, FEASEL MATH INVITATIONAL, MAXWELL CHARLES SUTTON.
    Max? KT thought. Max has math trophies? How could that be?
    She began pulling trophies off the shelf at random. They were topped with more calculators, with pencils, with desks, with bronzed versions of the symbol for pi. She dropped them and kept grabbing the next trophies back.
    Calculator, calculator, pencil. Calculator, desk, piece of paper . . .
    Every single one of them was Max’s.
    What had happened toall of KT’s trophies?



Chαpt e r Ni n e
    “Kaitlin Therese!”
    KT was still frantically pulling trophies off the shelf when she heard her mother scream behind her. She’d apparently just gotten home—KT could hear the garage door jerking shut behind her.
    “Just what do you think you’re doing ?” Mom shrieked, in a tone KT had never heard her use before.
    “My trophies—where are my trophies?” KT wailed. “Why did you have to replace them all with Max’s?”
    “Oh, for crying out loud,” Mom said. She crossed the family room in three angry strides, and dived toward the lowest, most out-of-the-way shelf. “They’re right here, right where they’ve always been.”
    She held up a three-inch-tall figure on a wooden base—not really big enough for KT to consider it a trophy. But she squinted at the cheap-looking plaque at the bottom:
    KT SUTTON
    SEVENTH-GRADE
    HONOR ROLL
    “Here’s the other one,” Mom said, holding up a twin of the first, except that this one said SIXTH-GRADE HONOR ROLL . “Before that, back in elementary school, they just gave out certificates. They’re here too.”
    She rifled through a stack of papers.
    “That’s not what I meant!” KT protested.
    The anger in Mom’s face softened slightly.
    “KT, you know your father and I are very proud of you and Max,” she said. “It’s just, you have different talents, and your particular talents don’t happen to lead to lots and lots of trophies. But—”
    “Yes, they do!” KT shrieked. “Where did you put them? Why did you take all mine away and bring in these, these bogus trophies for Max?”
    He’d never been on any math team. Not that KT knew of, anyway, and wouldn’t she know something like that if he’d won all these trophies? The only trophy Max should have in the shrine was his one PARTICIPATION trophy from kindergarten, the one year he did T-ball before quitting sports altogether.
    She swung her hand at a row of calculator- and pencil-topped trophies, toppling them like so many bowling pins.
    “He doesn’t deserve any of this!” KT screamed.
    All the sympathy and concern in Mom’s expression vanished. Her face hardened into a mask of fury.
    “That,” she snarled, “was completely uncalled for. I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know how hard Maxworks! You do not build yourself up by tearing down your brother! I won’t allow it!”
    She grabbed KT by the shoulders and gave her a rough shake.
    “But—,” KT protested.
    “You have five minutes,” Mom said, shoving KT away. “Put every single one of these trophies back where they belong. Then get changed. We will be walking out that door to go watch Max at precisely four thirty.”
    “Watch Max?” KT wailed. “What? Mom, no. I’ve got to get back to practice.”
    She said this even though she didn’t know where practice was, even though the gym and the softball field had vanished. It was something to hold on to, something to wish for.
    She longed for softball practice.
    Even as KT spoke, Mom had started to stomp away. But now she whirled back around and glared.
    “And now you’re lying to me?” Mom asked incredulously. “KT, I know your schedule. It’s easy to keep track of. You don’t have anything after school today!