CHAPTER 4
The next morning, Andrew sat at the table eating cereal. He took a sip of orange juice.
“Hey, little brother,” Marcus said, walking into the room. Andrew smiled, then ate another bite of cereal.
“So,” Marcus said, “have you thought about what I said yesterday, before supper?” He grabbed his sneakers from the closet and slipped them on.
“I guess,” Andrew said. “But it didn’t make any sense. Your legs take you down the field. Duh. And mine take me down the field too, only way more slowly.”
Marcus got down on one knee to tie his sneaker. “That’s true,” he said. Then he switched knees to tie the other sneaker.
“What does that have to do with Coach French?” Andrew asked. He pushed his bowl of cereal away from him and finished the juice. “He still won’t let us run speed drills, so I won’t be getting any faster.”
“Nope,” Marcus said, “not just by going to practice. You’re probably right.”
Marcus stood up and grabbed his backpack from the front closet. He dug around and found his headphones.
“So what’s your advice?” Andrew asked.
“Look at it this way,” Marcus said. He pulled open the door and looked back at his brother. “How are you getting to school today?”
Andrew shrugged. “Same as always,” he said. “The bus. Why?”
Marcus smirked and raised his eyebrows. Then he slipped on his earphones and jogged out the door and down the sidewalk.
Andrew smiled. I get it, he thought.