Slam Munk!

Chapter 1 - Surprising Talent

It was a typical sunny afternoon at the Seville household. Alvin and Simon were outside, though with vastly different agendas. While Alvin was determinedly attempting (and failing) to make baskets on the basketball hoop he'd hung from the side of the house, Simon was sitting nearby, immersed in his latest school report on his laptop.

Alvin dribbled the ball, jumping up for another shot—and missed. Again. The basketball hit the rim with a hollow clang and rolled off into the grass. Simon glanced up from his screen, amusement flickering across his face as he tried to stifle a chuckle.

"You know, for someone who's supposedly the 'athletic one' in the family," Simon teased, "you're... surprisingly bad at basketball."

Alvin, breathless and growing increasingly frustrated, glared at his brother. "Hey! I don't need to be good at basketball. This is just to keep my legs sharp for football. It's all about foot coordination. You wouldn't understand, nerd."

To prove his point, Alvin dribbled the ball with exaggerated focus before launching it toward the hoop again. The ball soared—way over the backboard, disappearing into the bushes with a soft thud.

"Uh-huh," Simon said, raising an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Your foot coordination might be fine, but your shooting? You might as well be aiming for outer space."

Alvin scowled as he jogged to retrieve the ball. He couldn't let Simon get away with mocking him, especially when it came to sports. "Oh yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants?" Alvin shot back, dribbling the ball as he returned to his spot under the hoop. "Why don't you show me what you've got? You can finally put that height to good use—besides hunching over your nerd projects like that guy who lived in the tower in Paris."

Simon didn't even look up from his laptop. "You mean the Hunchback of Notre Dame?" he said dryly.

"Yeah, him," Alvin waved dismissively, missing yet another shot.

Just then, Dave's voice rang out from inside the house. "Alvin! Simon! Can one of you come help me and Theodore with something?"

Alvin and Simon exchanged a glance. It was clear neither of them was particularly eager to leave what they were doing. With a resigned sigh, Alvin held up his hand for rock-paper-scissors. Three rounds later, Simon grinned as Alvin lost—rock beat scissors.

"Fine, fine, I'll go help," Alvin muttered, tossing the ball aside as he trudged inside.

Left alone, Simon turned his attention back to his report. He tried to focus, but Alvin's basketball lay abandoned a few feet away, almost taunting him.

Simon rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Newton's Third Law... for every action..." he muttered as he tried to refocus. But the temptation to test his own skills tugged at him.

He glanced at the ball, then back at his laptop. Then, with a resigned sigh, he closed his laptop, stood up, and wandered over to the basketball.

"It's not like I've got anything to prove," Simon murmured to himself, picking up the ball. "But... maybe just one shot."

Mimicking one of Alvin's dramatic shooting stances, Simon lined up a shot and, with little effort, threw the ball toward the hoop.

Swish.

The ball had gone in perfectly.

"Easy," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as if someone might have seen.

Encouraged, Simon picked up the ball again. His self-narration resumed, more confident now. "Newton's Law of Motion... the trajectory of the parabola," he muttered, lining up another shot. The ball soared through the air—and swished cleanly through the hoop again.

Simon grinned, a feeling of unexpected excitement bubbling up. "Alright, not bad."

He picked up the ball once more, and before long, Simon was shooting with increasing confidence, making shot after shot. Layups, three-pointers—everything felt natural. His coordination, his height, and even his knowledge of geometry and physics seemed to come together in perfect harmony on the court.

Simon was, without a doubt, shockingly good at basketball.

As he sank another three-pointer, he paused for a moment, spinning the ball in his hands, smiling slightly to himself. "This... actually feels nice."

Without even realizing it, Simon was having fun. The ball bounced back to him after each shot, and he kept going, his mind on autopilot. He shot another from the three-point line, then missed one—but instead of stopping, he sprinted to catch the ball as it ricocheted off the rim, and in one smooth motion, he dunked it.

Simon froze, holding the rim for a moment, arms raised in triumph as if he were imagining a roaring crowd.

Then he noticed Alvin standing in the doorway, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Wha—?" Simon blurted, immediately dropping the ball and stepping back, his face turning red. He hadn't realized he had an audience.

Alvin's jaw hung open in disbelief, still processing what he had just witnessed. He'd never seen Simon—his nerdy brother—move like that before.

"You—did you just... dunk?" Alvin stammered, still in shock.

Before Simon could respond, his usual composure returning, he ran inside, flustered and embarrassed. The basketball bounced in place, the only sound in the stunned silence left in Alvin's wake.

Chapter 2 - Hidden Potential

Alvin couldn't stop talking about Simon's unexpected basketball skills. He was amazed—no, astonished—that Simon, the academic, the brains of the family, had hidden this kind of talent all along. And the more Alvin thought about it, the more determined he became to get Simon to embrace it.

The two brothers walked home from school the next day, Alvin practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. A basketball thudded rhythmically against the pavement as Alvin dribbled, keeping time with his fast-paced chatter.

"I'm telling you, Si, you're a natural!," Alvin said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "You've got the height, the brains, and you've got that mean shot. What's stopping you?"

Simon, however, was much more hesitant. He adjusted his glasses, keeping his focus on the sidewalk ahead. "Alvin, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but basketball isn't exactly my thing," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I made a few lucky shots, that's all. Playing in our driveway is very different from playing on a team."

Alvin stopped dribbling and turned to face him, completely unconvinced. "C'mon, Simon. Lucky shots? Don't be modest. You've got something special here! With your brain and height, you're like... the perfect basketball machine! Seriously, what's holding you back?"

Simon sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn't really want to revisit old memories, but he could tell Alvin wouldn't let this go unless he gave him an answer. After a moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.

"You really want to know?" Simon asked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Duh! You don't see me getting younger!" Alvin shot back, spinning the basketball on one finger as he waited for Simon's response.

Simon glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, before he finally admitted, "Alright. Remember that summer when you were sent to summer school for the first time?"

Alvin nodded, intrigued. "Yeah... you mean the summer I had to spend making up for all those 'missed opportunities' in class?"

Simon smirked a little but quickly got serious again. "Well, while you were in there, I decided to try something different. I signed up for a summer basketball league. I thought it'd be a good way to keep active, and honestly, I kinda liked the game."

Alvin's eyes widened. "You did?"

"Yeah," Simon continued, "but it didn't exactly go well. My shooting was fine, but my dribbling? Not so much. I struggled to move around the court without stumbling, and every time I tried to make a move, my glasses would slip off." He shrugged. "Eventually, I got frustrated and stopped playing."

Alvin tilted his head, trying to picture it. "Wait, so you were good at shooting but bad at handling the ball? Dude, that's nothing! I can help with that! All you need is some practice on your footwork, and I'm your guy!"

Simon raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "I don't know, Alvin. I'm not sure if basketball is really for me. I'd rather focus on my academics, or, you know, literally anything else that doesn't involve... sports."

"Come on, Si," Alvin said, throwing an arm around Simon's shoulder. "With me as your coach, what could go wrong?"

Simon gave him a sideways glance. "You really want me to answer that?"

Alvin grinned. "Think about it! I've got the moves, you've got the brains. We're unstoppable!"

Simon sighed. "Fine. Let's say, hypothetically, I did give basketball another shot. What would be your genius plan for improving my skills?"

Alvin clapped his hands together in excitement. "Trust me, Simon. By the time I'm done with you, the basketball team will be begging you to join."

Simon wasn't convinced, but a small part of him was curious. Maybe it was worth giving basketball another try—with Alvin's help this time. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 3 - The Training Begins

After some convincing (and a lot of Alvin's persistence), Simon finally agreed to let Alvin train him. For the next few days, Alvin transformed into Simon's personal coach, much to Simon's distress. Alvin was determined to get Simon into shape, and he took his new coaching role very seriously—perhaps too seriously.

"Alright, Simon! Knees up, elbows in! This is all about coordination. Light feet, sharp mind!" Alvin barked as they practiced in the backyard. Simon focused but slightly irritated, jogged back and forth, trying to keep up with Alvin's intense energy.

Alvin had incorporated his usual football drills into their training. Simon, who excelled at academics but had always been skeptical of athletics, struggled at first. Alvin had him run cone drills, do shuttle runs, and work on quick pivots. Alvin insisted this would improve his foot coordination, which was key in both football and basketball.

The two brothers spent hours on the court, with Alvin shouting encouragements and offering his usual over-the-top advice. "You've got to be quick, Si! Just like when you're solving equations in your head—think fast, move faster!"

Simon panted, wiping sweat from his brow as he took a quick break. "I don't recall solving equations while running cones during a math exam," he muttered, out of breath.

Meanwhile, Theodore was on the other side of the court, attempting to shoot hoops as a way to pass the time. But his attempts at basketball were... laughably bad, to say the least. He tossed the ball wildly, missing the hoop by a mile more times than not, often hitting the fence or the garage instead.

At one point, Theodore managed to hit the backboard, and the ball bounced off, ricocheting straight into Alvin's face as he was mid-coach speech. Alvin's whistle got caught in his throat, and Simon doubled over laughing as Alvin started coughing, violently.

"Nice shot, Theo!" Simon called out, grinning despite his exhaustion.

Despite the chaos, Simon was getting better. His footwork was improving, and he was starting to feel more comfortable moving on the court. He even managed to start weaving through cones with ease and making accurate passes when Alvin wasn't watching too closely.

Eventually, Simon couldn't help but feel a bit smug about his progress. "I still don't get how this is supposed to prepare me for basketball tryouts," he said, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip of water.

Alvin smirked, giving Simon a playful nudge. "Woah, woah, woah. I never said anything about you joining the basketball team, unless that's something you want to do, of course." Alvin raised an eyebrow teasingly.

Simon paused for a moment. "Well... maybe I've thought about it a few times," he admitted, looking off toward the hoop. "Now that I've improved, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot."

Alvin grinned, feeling a surge of pride in his brother. "Look at you! Taking risks, stepping out of your comfort zone. You're starting to sound like me now!"

Simon rolled his eyes. "Let's not get carried away, Alvin."

"Yeah, yeah," Alvin said with a smirk. "But seriously, we're doing these drills because foot coordination is key. You've gotta be light on your feet, just like in football. Trust me, once you've got this down, you'll be flying across the court."

As they continued their training, Simon started to feel more confident with every session. His footwork was improving, and he was able to move more fluidly across the court. Alvin, for all his dramatic coaching methods, was actually helping.

At one point, after a particularly grueling round of shuttle runs, Simon paused and looked up at the hoop. He lined up a shot, took a deep breath, and launched the ball toward the basket. The ball sailed through the air and landed perfectly in the net with a clean swish.

Alvin whistled, impressed. "Nice shot, Si!"

Simon, trying to hide his growing sense of pride, shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, I suppose I'm getting the hang of it."

Musical Interlude - Getting into the Game
*Song: Alvin & The Chipmunks - We Are Warriors*

The sun is shining, and Alvin stands confidently on the outdoor court, whistle in hand, ready to turn Simon into an athlete. Simon, on the other hand, stands there looking less enthusiastic, adjusting his glasses and holding a basketball with uncertainty. But Alvin, as usual, is brimming with over-the-top confidence.

The Chipmunks:
Na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na
Na, na, na, na, na
Na, na, na

Simon awkwardly runs through cone drills. He stumbles a bit, his long legs looking slightly uncoordinated as Alvin yells from the sidelines like a drill sergeant, "Come on, Simon! Faster! Light on your feet, like you're dodging math problems!"

Simon rolls his eyes but pushes himself to run quicker. He nearly trips over a cone, but catches himself, barely managing to keep his balance. Alvin grins like a proud coach, though he's clearly enjoying Simon's struggle a little too much.

The Chipmunks:
Hello world, welcome to me
Time to catch up, time to take names

Simon is now doing shuttle runs. Sweat drips down his forehead as he darts back and forth, still a little clumsy. Alvin, standing with his arms crossed and sunglasses on, shouts encouragingly, "You've got this, Si! Remember, it's all about footwork—think of it like moving your chess pieces on a board!"

Simon glared at him in exhaustion. "That analogy... makes no sense!" he pants.

Meanwhile, Theodore is in the background, attempting to shoot some hoops but missing every single time. One shot ricochets off the backboard and nearly hits Alvin, who dodges just in time. Theodore grins sheepishly, shrugging.

The Chipmunks:
May not be a beauty queen
But I make it look so pretty

Na, na, an

Alvin has Simon doing push-ups and other strength exercises, claiming that it's all about building endurance. Simon struggles at first but gradually starts to handle it better, his arms no longer trembling as much by the end of the set.

Alvin, however, begins showing off by doing push-ups with one hand with his cocky attitude on full display, while Simon glares at him from the ground, clearly exhausted.

The Chipmunks:
So I'm gonna take it (na, na, na, an)
Yeah, I'm gonna make it (na, na, na, an)
If I gotta unbreak it (na, na, na, an)
I say look at us, we are warriors

Simon begins to improve. He's moving through the cone drills faster, with more agility, and his footwork is becoming sharper. Alvin continues to bark orders and encouragements, but Simon is now focused, his movements more fluid. The camera zooms in on his determined face as he pivots quickly around the cones, impressing even Alvin.

The Chipmunks:
I'ma school it (na, na, na, na)
Then I'm gonna rule it (na, na, na, na)
No I'm not gonna cool it (na, na, na, na)
I say look at us, she's a warrior

Simon's now running up and down the court, practicing fast breaks and layups. He's sweating but moving with confidence and grace. Alvin throws him a pass, and Simon catches it effortlessly, weaving past an imaginary defender before making a clean layup.

Simon, now looking much more confident and athletic, dribbled the ball smoothly across the court.

Alvin cheers, giving Simon a high five.

The Chipmunks:
Yeah, I'ma take it (na, na, na, an)
Then I'm gonna make it (na, na, na, an)
If I gotta unbreak it (na, na, na, an)
I say look at us, we are warriors

Chapter 5 - Game Time Prep

As the days passed, Simon's progress was nothing short of impressive. His dribbling had become more precise, his shooting more accurate, and his confidence—something that had wavered at first—was now rock solid. Alvin, ever the enthusiastic coach, watched with pride as Simon transformed before his eyes.

On the final day of their training, the brothers found themselves back on the outdoor court during lunch. Theodore was there too, still trying (and still hilariously failing) to make a basket. Every time the ball ricocheted off the rim, Theodore would just shrug and keep trying. It had become part of the routine now, and even Simon couldn't help but smile at their younger brother's persistence.

After another round of drills, Simon wiped the sweat from his brow. "Alright, I think I'm as ready as I'll ever be," he said, catching his breath. He was confident, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in his voice. After all, tryouts were right around the corner, and he had to be at his best.

Alvin, never one to shy away from theatrics, threw his arm around Simon's shoulder. "Listen, Si," he said with a grin. "You've got the skills now, but there's one last thing you need to know."

Simon raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"

Alvin's grin widened, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Style. You've got the skills, but now you need to bring the flair. You can't just be good—you've gotta stand out and make an impact. The crowd loves a little showmanship and sometimes, you gotta throw a little pizzazz into the mix to get noticed. Look, let me show you. Once you make a shot on someone, hit them with one of these"

He then proceeded to do a crotch chop, grinning as though he'd just unveiled the secret to success.

Simon blinked, completely unfazed. "Wouldn't something like that get me benched—Or, you know, completely disqualified from ever playing again?" he asked flatly.

Alvin shrugged with his signature grin. "Not if you do it behind the ref" He then leaned in and added, "Besides, when you're hyped, does it really matter?"

Simon remained unfazed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Before the conversation could go any further, the loud, authoritative voice of Coach Harris, the school's basketball coach, boomed across the court. "Alright, boys! Tryouts are about to begin!" The coach's words sent a ripple of anticipation through the air, and Simon straightened up, feeling his nerves start to tingle. This was it—his chance to prove himself.

Simon took a deep breath, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in his stomach. This was it—the moment he'd been preparing for. Alvin gave him a supportive pat on the back. "You're ready, Si. Show them what you're made of."

Just before they headed toward the gym, Alvin reached into his bag and pulled out a small box. "Wait, before you go..." He handed it to Simon. "I had these made for you."

Simon opened the box to reveal a pair of sleek, prescription protective eye-guards—designed specifically for sports. He stared at them, speechless for a moment. "Wow... Alvin, these are... incredible. Thank you."

Alvin waved it off, though it was clear he was proud of the gesture. "No problem. Just remember," he added with a playful grin, "anybody can be an athlete."

Simon raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Anybody?"

As if on cue, Theodore—who had been struggling all afternoon—suddenly launched a ball from half-court. They all watched, mouths slightly open, as the ball sailed through the air in an impossibly perfect arc... and sank cleanly through the hoop with a swish.

Theodore gasped in disbelief, then exploded into a celebratory dance, running in circles around the court like he had just won the championship. "I did it! I DID IT!" he yelled, completely overjoyed.

"Did you see that?! Did you see that?!" he shouted excitedly, stopping briefly to give both of his Alvin and Simon double crotch chops before continuing his celebratory lap.

Alvin watched, shaking his head with an amused grin. "...Anybody," he chuckled.

With that, Simon took a deep breath, adjusted his new eye guards, and headed toward the gym with Alvin by his side. He was ready to give it his all. Tryouts were about to begin, and Simon wasn't going to hold anything back.

Chapter 6 - Center Court

Simon's first basketball tryout had gone better than anyone could have predicted. The coach was immediately impressed with his precision and calm under pressure, and by the end of tryouts, Simon had secured a spot on the team. What the team didn't know yet was that Simon would quickly become their secret weapon.

As Simon's first game approached, he was nervous, but Alvin's constant encouragement kept him grounded. Alvin had been there every step of the way, training him, guiding him, pushing him to be better. Simon appreciated it more than he let on, but as the game neared, the weight of performing in front of a crowd felt like a new challenge.

On game day, the stands were packed. Students, teachers, and parents filled the bleachers, buzzing with excitement. Alvin, Theodore, and Dave were in the front row, cheering on Simon. Alvin decked out in Chipmunk gear with a foam finger, was ready to give his brother the loudest support possible. Theodore sat beside him, munching on popcorn, while Dave looked proud, watching his boys thrive.

"Remember, Simon!" Alvin called out from the stands. "Just like we practiced!"

Simon, now dressed in his basketball jersey and protective eye guards, looked focused and determined as he stood on the court during warm-ups. His teammates, many of whom had initially underestimated him, now passed him the ball with confidence, knowing Simon had earned his spot.

As the game began, Simon quickly fell into rhythm. His newfound foot coordination and impeccable shooting made him a force to be reckoned with. He moved smoothly across the court, sinking shot after shot with ease, always keeping his cool.

The crowd's murmurs turned into excitement as Simon started racking up points.

"Another one for Seville!" the announcer shouted over the microphone.

As the game wore on, Simon became unstoppable. His opponents couldn't keep up with his quick thinking and precise movements. He played with a calm confidence that made it look effortless. And then something strange happened—the crowd started chanting.

"Simon! Simon! Simon!"

Alvin, who had been cheering louder than anyone else, suddenly went silent as he heard the chorus of voices calling out his brother's name. Simon was the one everyone was paying attention to. Alvin blinked in surprise, slowly lowering his foam finger.

Simon was the one under the spotlight, his name echoing through the gym.

Alvin had always been the center of attention—the bold, charismatic one. He was the leader, the one people chanted for. But now, here he was, sitting in the stands, watching as the crowd cheered for his brother instead. It was a strange feeling, one he wasn't entirely prepared for.

As the crowd roared with each point Simon made, Alvin began to feel a pang of jealousy gnawing at him. Simon's popularity was growing, and fast. With each shot Simon made, Alvin could feel his own spotlight dimming, if only by a little.

"Wow, Simon's really good!" Theodore said between bites of popcorn, his eyes glued to the game.

"Yeah..." Alvin muttered, trying to hide the feeling creeping over him. "He's... killing it out there."

For the rest of the game, Simon dominated. He was a one-chipmunk wrecking crew, scoring effortlessly, guiding his team, and keeping his cool under pressure. Every time Simon made a shot, the crowd went wild, chanting his name louder and louder. His teammates high-fived him after every play, and by the end of the game, it was clear that Simon had led them to a landslide victory.

As the final buzzer sounded, the team rushed to Simon, celebrating their win. Simon stood in the middle of the court, flushed with excitement but still maintaining that composed demeanor he was known for. The crowd continued chanting his name, praising him for the win.

From the stands, Alvin watched it all unfold, forcing a smile. He was happy for Simon—really, he was—but at the same time, there was an undeniable ache in his chest. The name "Simon" had replaced the "Alvin!" he was so used to hearing. For the first time in his life, Alvin wasn't the one being celebrated, and it stung in a way he hadn't expected.

"Hey, Alvin?" Theodore asked, noticing the shift in his brother's demeanor. "You okay?"

Alvin snapped out of his thoughts, quickly plastering on a grin. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine! Simon crushed it, huh?"

Theodore nodded eagerly. "Yeah! He was awesome!"

Alvin tried to shake off the feeling, but as he watched Simon be hoisted up on his teammates' shoulders, basking in the glow of his newfound fame, Alvin realized that things were changing. Simon was no longer just the "smart one"—he was now the popular one, too.

And for the first time, Alvin wasn't sure how to feel about sharing the spotlight.

Chapter 7 - The Shadow Of Seville

The next day at school, Simon's stellar basketball performance had set the entire campus buzzing with excitement. Everywhere Alvin turned, the topic of conversation was Simon. By the time lunch rolled around, it was clear: Simon was the new talk of the school, and Alvin—used to being in the center of it all—found himself on the outside looking in.

For Alvin, the shift was more than just strange—it was downright unsettling. He had always been the bold, charismatic Chipmunk, excelling at sports, drawing crowds with his larger-than-life personality. But now, it was Simon basking in the glory. The attention Alvin once commanded had shifted.

As the three brothers sat at their usual lunch table, the change in dynamic was palpable. Normally, students would flock to Alvin, eager to hear the latest about his football heroics or any wild story he'd concocted. Today, though, they swarmed around Simon like moths to a flame.

"Simon, that three-pointer you hit yesterday was insane! You didn't even hesitate—just straight swish!" one student gushed, leaning in with admiration.

Another added, "And that steal? Man, I've never seen anyone read the court like that. You were unstoppable!"

Simon, as always, took the attention in stride, offering a modest smile. "I guess I've just been practicing a lot. But, uh, thanks."

His calm, grounded demeanor only seemed to endear him to the crowd more. The students hung on his every word, eager for any scrap of insight or advice he could give them.

Alvin, sitting beside Simon, forced a grin and tried to shake off the knot of jealousy tightening in his chest. This was his table. His spotlight. And yet, now, everyone was focused on Simon. As much as he hated to admit it, the feeling was unfamiliar—and he didn't like it.

After the crowd finally dispersed, Alvin plastered on a smile and turned to Simon. "Look at you, Si, becoming the school's next big thing."

Simon shrugged, dribbling an imaginary basketball under the table. "I guess people just like basketball more than I thought."

"Yeah, basketball..." Alvin muttered, picking half-heartedly at his food. "Sure."

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Alvin. He tried to shake off the feeling, but as more people congratulated Simon and praised his skills, Alvin found himself sinking deeper into a pit of uncertainty. He wasn't used to sharing the spotlight, and now it seemed like Simon was slowly eclipsing him.

That evening, after school, Alvin wandered out into the backyard. The cool evening air brushed against his skin as he spotted Simon practicing free throws on the basketball hoop they had been using for weeks. Each shot Simon took was fluid and precise, the ball swishing through the net with ease.

Alvin leaned against the fence, watching in silence for a while. Simon didn't miss a single shot, his form was practically perfect now after all their training. Alvin couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride and... something else. Something he didn't want to admit.

After a few minutes, Alvin grabbed a stray ball from the grass and approached Simon. "You're really killing it out there, Si," Alvin said, trying to sound supportive despite the jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

Simon glanced over and gave a small smile. "Thanks. I've been working on my footwork. You know, like you taught me."

Alvin dribbled the ball once before attempting a shot. It bounced off the backboard, missing the basket by a long shot. He grimaced, grabbing the ball again. "You're becoming the school's new golden boy, huh?"

Simon made another perfect free throw, the ball sailing effortlessly through the hoop. He glanced over at Alvin, sensing something beneath the surface. "You okay, Alvin?"

Alvin hesitated for a moment, then shrugged, bouncing the ball idly. "Yeah, I'm fine... It's just weird, you know? I've always been the one in the spotlight. The one everyone's talking about. And now, it feels like... well, you're the one everyone's buzzing about."

Simon paused, considering Alvin's words. He let the basketball fall still in his hands before speaking. "Do I sense a hint of jealousy in that tone?"

Alvin stiffened, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered. "Wha—? Me? Jealous of You?" He scoffed, trying to brush it off with a laugh. "Come on, Simon. This is me we're talking about. It's just...I'm used to being the center of attention. Now, it feels like you're the one everyone looks up to."

But Simon wasn't convinced. He knew Alvin better than anyone, and he could see the way Alvin's shoulders tensed, the way his usual confidence had wavered over the past few days. "It's okay if you are, you know," Simon said gently. "I'm not trying to steal your spotlight, Alvin."

Alvin bounced the ball a few more times, staring down at the ground. "I know, it's just... I'm used to being the center of attention. The one people look up to, the one they cheer for. And now, suddenly, it's you. It's... different."

Simon gave a small nod of understanding. "I get it. But you're still the same Alvin. Just because people are excited about basketball doesn't mean they've forgotten everything else you do."

Even with Simon's words of reassurance, Alvin's Jealousy only grew into by the next game.

Musical Interlude - Shift in the Spotlight
*Song: Mike Posner - Cooler Than Me*

The school gym buzzed with energy as the basketball game raged on. Simon Seville was in the zone, weaving through defenders and making impossible shots look effortless. Every time he scored, the crowd erupted with cheers.

"Simon! Simon! Simon!"

The chant echoed through the gym, a sound that Alvin had always associated with his own name. It was his identity—the bold, athletic, larger-than-life star everyone adored. But now, that adoration was being directed at someone else. At Simon.

The sound of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood filled the air, as Simon executed a perfect three-pointer. Swish. The crowd went wild, standing on their feet. Alvin, sitting in the stands, tried to join in with the applause, but that tight knot of jealousy settled in his chest. He clapped, but it didn't feel genuine.

Simon excelled on the basketball court in game after game. His confidence grows with each perfect shot, and he moves like a seasoned player, agile and sharp. The camera shifts to the crowd—students cheering, posters with Simon's name on them, and girls swooning over the once "nerdy" chipmunk who has now become the school's rising star.

Alvin:
If I could write you a song to make you fall in love
I would already have you up under my arm
I used up all of my tricks, I hope that you like this
But you probably won't

The Chipmunks:
You think you're cooler than me

Simon dominated the court. His footwork is quick and precise, the ball moving seamlessly between his hands and into the basket. Swish after swish, Simon's accuracy leaves his teammates and the crowd in awe.

Alvin:
You got designer shades just to hide your face
And you wear 'em around like you're cooler than me
And you never say ''Hey'', or remember my name
And it's probably 'cause

The Chipmunks:
You think you're cooler than me

Every shot Simon makes is followed by the crowd chanting his name. "Simon! Simon!" He gives a modest smile, acknowledging their cheers as he runs down the court, but his focus remains sharp.

As Simon waved to his family in the crowd, Alvin sat in the stands, forcing a smile while clapping halfheartedly. He watches as the spotlight that was once he now shines on Simon.

The Chipmunks:
You got your highbrow shoes on your feet
And you don't even look when you pass by
But you don't know the way that you look
When your steps make that much noise, shh

The next day at school in the school hallways. Posters of Simon and the basketball team are plastered everywhere. Students crowd around Simon at his locker, praising him for his performance, while Alvin stands off to the side, unnoticed. Girls giggle as they pass Simon, giving him shy smiles, which he awkwardly returns. Alvin, who's used to being in the center of attention, watches from the background, feeling sidelined.

The Chipmunks:
I got you all figured out
You need everyone's eyes just to feel seen
Behind your make up nobody knows who you even are
Or who you think that you are

Simon was on fire on the court, his new prescription eyeguards making him look sleek and confident. He dribbles past opponents, makes tough layups, and shoots from beyond the arc, each time adding points to the scoreboard. The opposing teams look frustrated, but Simon remains composed and unstoppable.

During lunchtime, just days after the last game, Simon sits at the lunch table with Alvin and Theodore, but this time, a crowd of students rushes over to talk to Simon. They don't even glance at Alvin. "Hey, Simon, how do you stay so calm under pressure?" one student asks. "That last shot was epic," says another. Simon humbly responds, while Alvin picks at his food, his face unreadable but clearly frustrated.

The Chipmunks:
If I could write you a song to make you fall in love
I would already have you up under my arm
I used up all of my tricks, I hope that you like this
But you probably won't
You think you're cooler than me

Alvin walks down the school hallway after another game, overhearing students whispering as he passes by. "Did you see Simon last night?" "Yeah, 'Shifty Seville' is on fire this season!" Alvin feels the sting of jealousy and confusion as the nickname that once belonged to him is now attached to Simon.

The Chipmunks:
You got designer shades just to hide your face
And you wear 'em around like you're cooler than me
And you never say ''Hey'', or remember my name
And it's probably 'cause
You think you're cooler than me

Simon's popularity was just steadily growing—students high-fiving him as he walked through the halls, girls slipping him notes, and even teachers praising his game. Simon takes it all in stride, but Alvin stands in the shadows, feeling as though he's losing something important: his status.

Chapter 9 - Seeing Clearly

By his next game, Simon Seville was the talk of the school. As the West Eastman High School basketball team made their entrance, the gym erupted in cheers, but none louder than when Simon's name was announced. The crowd was wild for him—the quiet intellectual had transformed into the school's basketball sensation.

Alvin, Theodore, and Dave sat in the front row, cheering on Simon like always. But Alvin's usual boisterous support was noticeably subdued this time, his cheers quieter, his smile a little tighter. He clapped, but there was an undeniable tension in his movements.

Dave noticed the change and leaned over. "You okay, Alvin?"

Alvin sighed and shrugged, looking down at the court. "Yeah, I'm fine... It's just... I've always been the one in the spotlight—the one everyone's buzzing about. Now, suddenly, it's Simon. It feels... different."

Dave paused for a moment, nodding in understanding. "I know it's hard when things change, Alvin. But Simon's not trying to steal the spotlight from you. He's just playing basketball. Finding his own thing. You helped him get there, remember? You've been a great brother. This doesn't have to be a competition."

Alvin scratched the back of his neck, unsure. "I know. It's just weird. I'm used to being the one everyone looks up to, you know? Now it feels like that's shifting."

Dave gave him a reassuring smile. "Alvin, you're still the star athlete on the football team, the lead singer of the band, and everyone knows that. Just because Simon's getting attention now doesn't mean people have forgotten about you. He's just finding his own path—and you're a part of that."

Alvin looked back at the court as the game began, watching Simon effortlessly take control of the game. His brother, once the quiet "smart one," was now the school's star athlete. It stung, but Dave's words were sinking in.

As the game progressed, Alvin's jealousy began to ease, and he found himself cheering genuinely for Simon again. "Come on, Simon! You've got this!" Alvin shouted, his voice finally matching the enthusiasm of the crowd.

Simon, as usual, played phenomenally. His shots were on target, his footwork was impeccable, and his confidence was through the roof. The crowd continued to cheer his name as he made impossible shots, putting his team in the lead.

Toward the final minutes of the game, Simon even threw in a little showboating—doing the crotch chop Alvin had taught him during practice. Alvin chuckled, proud to see his brother's confidence skyrocket.

But then, disaster struck.

In the heat of the game, an opposing player, frustrated by Simon's dominance, made a hard foul. Simon went tumbling to the floor, his protective eyeguards flying off and sliding under the bleachers. The ref blew the whistle, calling the foul. With only one free throw needed to secure the win for West Eastman, Simon stood at the free-throw line—but without his glasses, he was essentially helpless.

The tension in the gym was palpable. Simon squinted at the basket, trying to make sense of the blurry figures around him.

Alvin immediately recognized the situation. He knew Simon couldn't make the shot without his eye guards, and time was running out. "Simon's in trouble, come on!" Alvin muttered, jumping up from his seat. Without hesitation, he grabbed Theodore and darted under the bleachers, frantically searching for Simon's eyeguards.

"Where are they?" Alvin whispered, feeling his heart race as he sifted through the dust and debris beneath the bleachers. Theodore crawled beside him, eyes scanning the dark corners.

Meanwhile, Dave, seeing the tension building on the court, realized Simon needed more time. In a flash of Alvin-esque craziness, Dave hatched a wild plan. He spotted a nearby police officer and casually approached him.

"Random question," Dave said, trying to sound nonchalant, "But that's my son at the free throw line. You got any kids?"

The officer raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Yeah, two daughters."

"And you'd do anything for them, right?" Dave continued, "Even if it's a bit... out there?"

The officer looked even more confused but nodded. "Sure, I guess."

"Great, then you'll understand this," Dave said.

Yoink.

Suddenly, Dave swiftly yanked the officer's hat off his head and took off running across the gym. The officer, startled and now hatless, chased after him, and the crowd burst into laughter, assuming it was some kind of halftime entertainment.

Back under the bleachers, Alvin's hands finally closed around Simon's eyeguards. "Got 'em!" he shouted. With no time to waste, he scrambled out and hurled them toward Simon.

The eyeguards sailed through the air, bouncing off Simon's forehead, but Simon caught them just in time. He slipped them back on, the world coming back into focus. With seconds left on the clock, Simon lined up his shot.

Swish.

The ball sailed perfectly through the hoop, securing the win for West Eastman.

"Easy," Simon smirked, his usual calmness returning.

The gym exploded with cheers as Simon's teammates rushed to celebrate with him. Alvin stood at the edge of the court, a mixture of pride and relief flooding through him. His earlier jealousy melted away, replaced by the satisfaction of knowing that his brother had earned this moment.

As Simon was lifted by his teammates, basking in the glory of victory, he caught Alvin's eye and gave him a subtle nod—a silent thanks for having his back. Alvin grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.

Dave, still dodging the police officer, ran over to Alvin and clapped him on the back. "Nice assist, Alvin!"

Alvin laughed. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm better off assisting the guy who deserves it."

At that moment, Alvin realized something important. It wasn't about who had the spotlight—it was about helping the people you care about shine, even if that meant stepping back sometimes. Sharing the spotlight wasn't so bad after all.

Chapter 10 - Brotherly Assist

After the game, Alvin and Simon lingered in the now-empty gym, the echoes of cheering fans still fresh in their ears. The only sounds left were the faint rustling of the debris and trash scattered across the floor, remnants of the rowdy celebration that had just unfolded. The victory was sweet, but even sweeter was the feeling of resolution between the two brothers.

Simon may have found his own spotlight in basketball, but Alvin knew that, in the end, it wasn't about who had the most attention—it was about being there for each other.

"Great job out there, Si," Alvin said, giving Simon a playful punch on the arm. He tried to downplay his admiration, but it was obvious in his tone.

Simon, still slightly out of breath from the game, grinned and adjusted his glasses. "Thanks. But I couldn't have done it without you. Literally. You saved my game—and my glasses."

Alvin shrugged, trying to keep it cool. "Hey, that's what brothers are for. Though... I owe you an apology for how I've been acting. You were right. I was... maybe a little jealous of all the attention you were getting." He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward about the admission. "But, hey. I guess I can't hog the spotlight forever, right?"

Simon smiled warmly, appreciating Alvin's sincerity. "It's okay, Alvin. I get it. But we're a team, whether it's on the court or off it. And besides, you've always had the spotlight when it comes to football and music. You're still the self-proclaimed all-star in those areas."

Alvin's face lit up at the mention of football. "You know, you're right. Basketball is cool and all, but football? That's America's game. So, technically, I'm America's Munk," he said with a smirk, puffing out his chest.

Simon burst out laughing, rolling his eyes at Alvin's typical swagger. "Right, of course. How could I forget?"

Just as the moment settled into a comfortable silence, Theodore came bounding up to them, holding a basketball, his face beaming with excitement. "Hey! Simon, you were amazing out there! Maybe I should try out for a sport, too!"

Alvin and Simon exchanged amused glances. Theodore's enthusiasm was always infectious, even if his athletic skills didn't quite match his passion.

"Sure, Theo!" Alvin said, grinning. "What do you think you'll try out for? Maybe tennis?"

"Or chess?" Simon added.

Theodore looked down at the basketball in his hands. "I don't know... basketball seems fun! Let me give it a try."

He tossed the ball toward the hoop with all his might. The ball missed the hoop completely, ricocheted off the backboard, bounced off a few gym walls, then flew through the air and landed directly into the bell of a nearby boy's tuba.

The boy, oblivious to the chaos, lifted the tuba to his lips and blew a deep note. The force of the air pressure launched the ball back into the air, and, before anyone could react, it came flying toward Theodore, smacking him square in the face.

Theodore stood dazed for a moment, the impact leaving him cross-eyed before he wobbled slightly and groaned, "...Maybe not."

Then, with a dramatic flair worthy of Alvin himself, Theodore fainted, flopping to the ground in an exaggerated heap.

~The End~