Free Game Changer by Margaret Peterson Haddix Page B

spirit . . . for now, let’s just focus on Max, shall we?”
    Since when does Dad use terms like “shall we”? KT wondered.
    Maybe it was just the aftereffect of all that running, but shefelt chilled suddenly. It was all she could do to stumble out of the car.
    Dad slammed the door shut behind her.
    “Don’t try anything,” he warned her through gritted teeth. “Don’t upset your mother.”
    What does he think I’m going to try? KT wondered.
    They joined a huge crowd walking into the school, buzzing with excitement. Someone—cheerleaders, probably—had lined the hallways with posters: GO B-NORTH! BEAT WINCHESTER! And EVERYBODY KNOWS WE’RE SMARTER! And DO THE MATH! BRECKSVILLE NORTH ALWAYS COMES OUT #1!
    KT had been toying with the notion that any competitive event Max played would have to have something to do with video games. Maybe all those gold lumps on his trophies were actually remote controls, not calculators?
    But this was definitely a math event they were walking toward. Someone had written out pi to thirty decimal places in huge numerals down the main hallway. Most of the kids KT saw were wearing shirts with numbers and mathematical symbols all over them. Some of the grown-ups were even wearing math T-shirts or sweatshirts or polos. And—KT noticed for the first time—Dad’s tie was covered with mathematical notations. Had he come home from work and changed into those clothes?
    KT silently trailed Mom and Dad into what should have been the gym. Now it looked more like the library.
    A library with rows and rows of tall bleachers overshadowing the bookshelves.
    And, facing the bleachers, ten velvet chairsclustered in two groups.
    And, above the chairs, huge screens—gigantic SMART boards, maybe?
    “Max is bound to get the most playing time of any of the sixth graders,” Dad told Mom quietly as they sat down near the front of the bleachers. “If he doesn’t, I think we should complain to the coach.”
    KT glanced around quickly, hoping nobody would see her going to a math competition or—even worse—sitting with her parents. But it looked like practically every kid in the school was there.
    Somehow KT couldn’t find the courage to go over and sit with any of her friends.
    Not after what had happened with Molly and Lex at lunch.
    And not when her friends all seemed to be carefully looking away from her.
    KT turned around and faced the velvet chairs and pretended she hadn’t seen any of her friends, either.
    Another couple came in and sat in front of KT’s parents. They looked vaguely familiar.
    “Eugenia! Morris!” Mom greeted them, pasting on a too-wide smile. “Look, honey, the Bashkovs are here!”
    Oh, yeah, KT thought. Ben’s parents.
    Ben Bashkov had been Max’s best friend since kindergarten. He was a scrawny little kid who always asked goofy questions like “What if a ghost and a werewolf got into a fight? Who do you think would win?” And “Which do you think has more bacteria in it? Spit or blood?”
    Dad clapped Mr. Bashkov on the shoulder and said, “Who’s going to be the high scorer on the team today—your son or ours?”
    “It does not matter. They are on the sameteam,” Mr. Bashkov said in his slightly accented English. KT could never be bothered to remember where the Bashkovs had come from—Russia, maybe?
    Dad punched Mr. Bashkov on the arm.
    “Yeah, I want my son to be the best too!” he said and laughed.
    Geez, Dad, KT thought. Are you this obnoxious at my softball games too?
    Just thinking the word “softball”made KT’s heart ache. She half rose, thinking that at least she could look out a window and see if her team was anywhere in sight. But Mom clamped her hand on KT’s leg.
    “Sit,” she hissed.
    “You are still doing so well in all your classes, no?” Mrs. Bashkov asked KT. Her tone reminded KT of something. Oh, yeah: Vanessa’s mom trying to talk to Max at softball games. The tone said, I know you’re a pathetic loser, but I’m a nice