The Intersection of Sets

When I met the Masters team during afternoon break, I was in bad shape. Any ideas I’d had about surviving tryouts had been destroyed by Owen.

And, more importantly, my confidence in my Masters skills had been seriously damaged during the practice session with Beaumont. I’d been useless.

But then I found out I had even more to worry about.

“We have a problem,” Sara said.

“Another one?” I asked. “Maybe our fund-raiser should be selling ‘We have a problem’ T-shirts.”

“Very funny,” Nitu said. “But we do need to talk about the fund-raiser.”

“Okay, let’s meet tomorrow, at our usual—”

“It’s my dad’s birthday tomorrow,” Nitu interrupted. “Remember? We rescheduled our regular meeting for today.”

“Yeah, and we have to figure out the fund-raising today,” Jason said, nodding. “We talked to Mr. Wills this morning, and if we’re going to set up any kind of a booth at school, we need to give forty-eight hours’ notice.”

Forty-eight hours? That was a problem. The registration had to be paid by Monday!

“But they didn’t give us any notice that they wouldn’t pay the whole fee,” I reasoned.

“Russell,” our math whiz said, resting a hand on my arm. “They don’t care.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to think of an alternative. “Let’s not have the fund-raiser at school.”

“Where else are we going to do it?” Nitu asked, hands on her hips.

It was my turn to shrug. “We don’t even know what ‘it’ is, yet.”

“Which is why we all need to meet after school today,” Jason said. “We have to get this figured out.”

“You guys know I have basketball tryouts.”

Jason took another look at my Nikes, and this time he didn’t look impressed at all.

“Russell,” Nitu said, shaking her head. “Don’t you see how important this is?”

“Of course I do,” I told her. “Obviously, it’s more important to me than the tryouts, but there’s nothing I can do. I was told to be there.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Sara asked.

“Have the meeting without me,” I told them. “Just like we planned.”

“Without you, but with Arthur?” Nitu asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Has he told anyone whether he’s joining the team?” I asked, dreading the answer.

They all shook their heads.

“Well, if he wants to, we can’t leave him out of the meetings.” Which was too bad. “And who knows? He might have come up with some great ideas.”

“Like having his father pay off the principal so he won’t demand forty-eight hours’ notice?” Jason asked, rolling his eyes.

“Very funny,” I said. “Look, Arthur was probably just being difficult about the money yesterday because the team is new to him and he doesn’t know where he’s going to fit in with us.”

“If he commits to joining,” Nitu said, offering another eye roll.

“Yes, if he commits.” I sighed, half hoping he wouldn’t. Things were complicated enough without him. “And if he does, we welcome a new brain. Agreed?” I looked at each of them in turn, and they all quietly nodded.

The bell rang and we said our good-byes.

“Sara, can you call me tonight and fill me in on the meeting?” I asked, just as she was leaving. She was the most likely to give me a fair update.

“I will.” She nodded. “And Russell?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck at tryouts,” she said with a shy smile.

“Thank you.”

I couldn’t concentrate in any of my classes. There was way too much going on in every part of my life, and tryouts were the least of it. I’d lost my Masters of the Mind confidence, I had no idea how to keep Arthur off the team, how to raise the money for our registration, or how to drop an egg from two stories without breaking it.

What kind of a leader was I?

A well-dressed one, apparently. I’d been complimented all day on my new shoes, and I couldn’t believe how much impact a bit of rubber and nylon had on my popularity. Of course, it was an incredibly cool blend of rubber and nylon, but still. Those shoes got me more attention than my honor roll appearances or my perfect score on the sixth-grade math exam.

Suddenly, I had a new understanding of why some girls spent so much time fixing their hair and comparing outfits, and some boys cared so much about wearing the right jeans.

When the final bell rang, I took a deep breath and gathered my new sports gear from my locker. It was a shame to think it would only be worn once, but there was nothing I could do about that.

As I walked down the hallway, I hoped the Masters would have a good meeting without me. And “good” meant no Arthur.

If he was out of the way, I was fairly sure I could get back on track. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that the distractions of Arthur and tryouts were what had thrown me off my Masters game. I wasn’t losing my skills, I was just … sidetracked.

When I walked into the boys’ locker room, the buzz of conversation I’d heard from the hallway suddenly stopped.

I froze, unsure of what to do.

A week ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed I’d be standing in a locker room about to try out for the basketball team. A week ago, all I’d been worried about was Chao moving to Cincinnati and whether we’d make it through a single competition without him.

Life had been so much easier when all I had to think about were Masters of the Mind and Math Club. But I’d wasted study time practicing for the basketball court and classroom time worrying about whether I’d be good enough.

Of course I wouldn’t.

And everyone knew it.

Even when I’d been excited about what it would feel like to be a Pioneer, I’d known it would never happen.

Owen was the jock. I was the brains. And that was how it was supposed to be.

I cleared my throat and looked at the guys.

The room was dead silent, and everyone was staring at me like I didn’t belong.

And they were right. I didn’t.

I belonged at a table with my Masters of the Mind friends, not standing alone while a crowd of jocks I barely knew looked me over from head to toe, wondering what I was doing there.

What was I doing there?

Every cell in my body told me that I was making a big mistake. That I was about to humiliate myself in front of a live audience.

The nitrogen group: nitrogen, phosphorus, arsenic, antimony, and bismuth.

“Seriously?” Paul asked, staring at me from his spot on the bench. “You’re seriously trying out?”

“Yes,” I said, quietly.

Owen’s friends kept staring at me. I waited for someone, anyone, to say something, but nobody did.

I couldn’t think of a time when I’d felt more out of place. More wrong.

I took a deep breath, realizing that talking about trying out and actually doing it were two very different things. These jocks would be watching every move I made, then laughing about it for weeks.

I glanced at my Nikes.

What had I been thinking?

A pair of shoes wouldn’t save me.

I needed to just turn around and walk away. I’d be better off going to the Masters meeting and helping my team than embarrassing myself because a new coach came up with a terrible idea.

But just as I was about to leave, I heard Owen’s voice.