“I just have to check in at my job tomorrow morning. I’ll be over in the afternoon to get started,” said Red. “It shouldn’t take more than a few good hours to clean up and move in.”
“I’ll help,” said Doug. The words were out of his mouth before he knew it.
“That’d be great,” said Red, flashing a big smile.
Why not? thought Doug. I don’t have anything else to do. The arcade’s burnt down and I’m tired of all my own video games. The guys are getting ready for camp. Might as well do something to kill time.
“Tell you what, Douglas,” said Mrs. Cannon. “The two of us will pitch in and do what we can before Red gets back. We’ll leave the heavy work to him.”
The next day was Saturday. Under his mother’s guidance, Doug swept out the small apartment, washed the windows, and carted off the trash that had accumulated.
“Well, it doesn’t exactly shine,” said Mrs. Cannon. “But it’s a lot better than it was. Douglas, what do you say we have ourselves some lunch?”
“I’m famished,” he said. “Could we go out to the new burger place on Main Street? They’ve got triple delishes.”
“What on earth are triple delishes?” asked his mother.
“Three burgers in a four-part bun, with melted cheese, lettuce, tomato, mustard, mayo, and pickles,” Doug chanted.
“If you can remember all that, you deserve to have one,” said Mrs. Cannon, laughing. “I hope they have grilled chicken. Hmmmm, and while we’re in town, I might as well talk to the florist so we can get started on wedding arrangements.”
Doug’s first thought was, Great, and I’ll go over to the video arcade. And then he realized it was no longer there.
Oh, well, at least I have the triple delish to look forward to right now!
When they returned from lunch, Doug settled down on the porch swing and fell asleep. The triple delish had been followed by a chocolate sundae. The combination had filled him to bursting, and he’d practically rolled out of the car. Luckily, the owner of the flower shop had been out, so they’d come right home.
His afternoon slumber was shattered by a booming voice that called out, “Is this my fellow furniture mover?”
Doug looked up and saw Red standing next to the swing. “You bet!” he replied through a yawn. He got to his feet and followed Red down to the carriage house.
There wasn’t a lot of furniture to be moved, but it took some effort. Doug was huffing and puffing after the first few minutes of exertion.
“Let’s take a break,” said Red, hefting a large overstuffed chair to one side. Doug noticed that he wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Yeah,” muttered the younger boy. He settled down on the floor. There was an awkward silence broken only by the sound of his labored breathing. Embarrassed, he tried to think of something to say. He blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Hey, Red, how come you’re in such good shape? Don’t you spend a lot of time sitting around and studying? Don’t tell me you’re a big jock, too.”
“I wouldn’t call it that,” said Red. “But I do like one sport, and I’ve put a lot into it.”
“Oh, yeah?” asked Doug. “What’s that?”
“Cycling,” said Red.
“Riding a bicycle? That’s a real sport?” Doug shook his head.
“You’d better believe it,” said Red. “It’s healthy, it’s fun, but it can be very competitive, too.”
“Did you ever compete? I mean, did you ever ride in a real race?” asked Doug.
“Uh-huh,” said Red. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
He led the way to what used to be a horse stall. In stead of a four-legged animal, there were three different bikes parked there now.
“Three bikes? What do you need three bikes for? They look pretty expensive,” said Doug. He pictured his old three-speed gathering dust in the garage. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken it out.
“That’s because they’re real sport bikes,” said Red. “And one of them is just for serious racing.”
“What’s the big difference?” asked Doug with a shrug.
For the next few minutes, Red showed him the finer points of sport and racing bicycles.
“This is the one I use for just getting around,” he said, indicating one with fat tires, fenders, and upright handlebars. “It’s sort of an all-purpose model and the closest to the bikes you’re probably used to. But this one has a lot more gears so it gets up hills easier.”
“Would you use that in a race?” Doug asked.
“No, it’s not made for that,” Red explained. “These two are. First, here’s my touring bike for road racing. See how thin the tires are and feel how light it is.” He picked it up with one hand and passed it over to Doug.
“Wow, that is light!” said Doug, putting it down. “It looks like it has a million gears. How do you know which one to use?”
“It’s not that hard,” said Red. “Comes with practice.”
“What about that one?” Doug asked. He nodded in the direction of a bike that looked even skinnier than the road racer. It had strange tires, too; each looked like a set of cymbals stuck together and rimmed with rubber.
“That’s for racing on indoor tracks,” said Red. “You wouldn’t want to be out on the road on that baby.”
“Why not?” Doug asked.
“Well, for one thing, it has no brakes.” Red wheeled the indoor racer closer and knelt down. “And, see, it has no freewheel like the others. You can’t coast on this bike. To keep moving ahead, you have to keep pedaling forward. If you want to stop, you start pedaling backward.”
“Pedaling backward? You’re kidding!” said Doug with disbelief. “I never realized there were so many different kinds of bikes—and different places to ride, I guess.”
“And these are just a few,” said Red. He wheeled the bikes back in line, then checked his watch. “Listen, I could go on and on, but I have something else I have to do.”
“Like finish moving in?” Doug suggested.
“That’s pretty much done,” said Red. “No, I promised I’d put up some posters about that outdoor project I mentioned. We’re looking for more volunteers to help out.”
“I could show you some good places to put up the posters downtown,” said Doug.
“That’d be great,” said Red. “Let’s go get your bike and we can start right out,” said Red.
Doug was suddenly embarrassed.
“No, I’ll run up and bring it back,” Doug said hurriedly. “You wait here. It won’t take a minute.”
He rushed up the hill and ran into the kitchen. He found a wet sponge and some paper towels, then hurried into the garage and wiped the dust off his three-speed before coasting down the hill to the carriage house.
Red was seated on his all-purpose model, wearing a helmet.
“Here’s one for you,” he said, handing Doug the safety headgear.
“Thanks,” said Doug. “I forgot mine, but I do have one. Slipped my mind.”
“No sweat,” said Red. “Let’s go.”
They pedaled out the driveway and down the road.
It took almost an hour to put up all of Red’s posters. By that time, Doug was wiped out. The only thing he could think of was getting off his bike and sitting down to a drink of something very cold.
Red must have read his mind.
“Want to stop in there for something to drink?” he asked, pointing to an ice cream shop on the corner.
Doug nodded in great relief.
At this time of day, the place was almost empty. Doug and Red bought their drinks, then took them outside to some benches.
“You’d better have a big drink of water as well as that soda,” said Red. “You look pretty hot. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”
Doug could feel the perspiration sliding down his back under his shirt. The bike ride took a lot more effort than he’d thought it would.
“Yeah, I get pretty thirsty during th
e summer,” he said. He got up and brought back two tall paper cups of water from the dispenser. “Here’s one for you,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Red, taking a quick sip.
“So what exactly is this ‘Rails to Trails’ project we’ve been putting up posters for?” Doug asked.
Red unrolled one of the remaining announcements. “Like it says, we’re cleaning up an old, abandoned railroad bed to make it into a path for recreation,” Red replied.
“So people can go hiking along a nice, flat path?” asked Doug.
“That’s one thing,” said Red. “But it will also be used by bikers. It’ll make a nice, safe place to go biking without worrying about cars and trucks and all that exhaust.”
“Will it be used for races and stuff?” asked Doug. “I mean, you must be a big-shot racer, with all those bikes, huh?”
Red’s face changed. His usual grin was now replaced by a set, serious expression. Instead of looking over at Doug, he was staring down into his cup of water.
Doug was afraid he’d said the wrong thing. “Was that dumb?” he asked. “You know, what I just said? I mean, I’m sorry if I —”
“Oh, no! No, don’t worry. It’s nothing to do with you,” said Red quickly, looking up at Doug. “It’s, well, you see, I’d better explain.”
He settled back on the bench and told Doug about the strong interest he’d had in cycling since he was a little kid.
“As a matter of fact, when I was real small and skinny, the kids used to called me ‘Spokes,’” said Red, now laughing. “But I outgrew that, so don’t get any wise ideas.
“Anyhow, I had this real passion, and my folks were great about it. They got me one bike after another, until, when I was about your age, I was using the finest amateur racing bikes around.”
“Boy, you really liked it, didn’t you!” said Doug. “How ‘bout the other kids? You know, the guys you went to school with, and all that? Were they into bike riding, too?”
“Doug, you have to understand, bike riding is one thing and cycling is another,” Red explained patiently. “Riding a bike is great, and pretty much anyone can do it. But cycling is a competitive sport. It’s a whole different world. When you’re in a race, it’s just the bike, the road, and you, pulling for all you’re worth.”
“Oh,” Doug said. Listening to Red made him realize how little he knew about sports outside of the ones offered at school. Because the school empha sized the importance of team playing, he had a choice of hockey, basketball, football, baseball, or soccer. He didn’t mind playing on the teams—after all, he’d made some good friends, and besides, it was something the school required. He just didn’t get into the competitive spirit like Pepper Meade and the others did. He guessed that was one reason he had decided not to go to summer hockey camp with them.
But Red was describing a whole different kind of sport—one that revolved around one’s own abilities, not those of a team. You sank or swam on your own efforts, so if you didn’t do well, you had no one to blame but yourself. And if you succeeded, the congratulations rested on your own shoulders.
What would that feel like, I wonder? Doug thought.
’Yup, it’s a great sport, I can tell you that,” said Red. “And for a while it was the most important thing in my life.” He crushed his now-empty water cup and stood up. “Hey, but you haven’t even said a word about the wedding. Are you glad your sister’s getting married?”
Doug could tell Red wanted to change the subject. He went along with him and said, “Sure, I like Terry a lot. I just wish I had some money to buy them a really great present.”
“Well, if you don’t have money, you just have to get creative,” said Red. “One of the coolest presents I ever got didn’t even come in a box.”
“What was it?” asked Doug.
“For my birthday one year, my godfather made a contribution in my name to a charity I really cared about. It made me feel great.”
Yeah, but it still took some money, Doug thought. He didn’t want Red to know that he was completely broke, so he decided it was time for him to change the subject now.
“Yup, those are really great bikes you have there. Get to race them much?” The question just popped out of his mouth.
“You know what?” said Red. “I think it’s time we headed for home. Think you can make it back?”
It was obvious that racing wasn’t a subject Red wanted to discuss. So Doug just nodded. He wasn’t looking forward to climbing onto his old three-speed bike for the return trip. But he wasn’t going to let Red know that now.
3
On the ride back, Doug noticed that Red was pacing himself so that they arrived back at the carriage house within moments of each other. The only difference was that Doug was huffing and puffing for all he was worth. Red got off his bike and looked as fresh as the morning breeze. Doug didn’t want him to see how worn out he was, and luckily, Red didn’t get a chance to notice.
There was a small group outside the carriage house waiting for them. Doug could see his folks, his sister, Terry, and a bunch of their friends. There were a few people Kate and Terry’s age he didn’t recognize. Probably friends from school, he guessed. They all looked happy and healthy, just like Kate and Terry—and Red.
“Hey, it’s a housewarming party!” said Red.
“This guy is going to be one great doctor!” said Terry. “What powers of diagnosis!”
“Where have you been?” asked Kate. “Terry, get these guys something to eat and drink.”
Mrs. Cannon had brought out some patio furniture and extra tables. Mr. Cannon was tossing lettuce leaves sprinkled with dressing into the air over a big salad bowl. There was also a buffet table already heaped with food that different people had brought. Doug could see some of his favorites: fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw. Over to one side there was a scooped-out watermelon with all kinds of fresh fruit in it. Right next to it were mounds of cookies and brownies, plus an assortment of pies.
It didn’t take him long to dig right in. After draining a big glass of lemonade, he heaped a plate with a little of just about everything.
As he munched on a chicken leg, Doug heard Red talking to Kate. “Your brother’s a pretty strong kid,” he said. “I didn’t think he could make it on that old three-speed, but he did fine.”
“That’s great,” she said. “Did you tell him what a bike freak you are?”
“What a freak I am?” Red pointed his finger at her and said, “You could be right up there with the champs.”
Kate rolled her eyes to the sky. “I love riding for fun—and that’s all.”
“But you’re a real fan,” said Red. “You watch the races and check the results in the paper.”
“Okay,” said Kate. “I’ll admit that—and nothing else. Anyhow, I’m glad you’re getting to know my kid brother, since you’re both going to be in the wedding party.”
The wedding! There it was, thought Doug. It was just like some big mountain that had to be climbed. And there were two giant steps to be taken on the way to the top: he had to come up with a wedding present, and he’d probably have to squeeze into one of those penguin suits. He groaned at the thought of both.
Kate came over and sat down next to him.
“What’s the matter, mopey?” she said. “Such along face. Aren’t you having fun?”
“Oh, sure,” said Doug. He couldn’t tell her what was really on his mind. “There just aren’t a lot of kids my age around here.”
“That’s right,” said Kate. “Mom said that most of your gang was going off to hockey camp. How come you didn’t go?”
“Just not interested,” Doug mumbled, pushing a blob of ketchup around on his plate.
“So what are you going to be doing all summer?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “Helping out around the house, I suppose.”
“Did I hear the word help?” asked Red, wandering over to where they were sitting.
“Uh-huh.”
Doug nodded.
“Doug’s signed on as an all around house helper for the summer,” Kate explained.
“Too bad he’s stuck here,” said Red. “We can use all the help we can get on our Rails to Trails project. We’re always looking for volunteers. Maybe you could give us some of your time now and then, Doug.”
Mrs, Cannon had overheard this part of the conversation.
“I’ve heard something about that project. It’s going to connect Lakeridge to two other towns. And I think it’ll pass close by your middle school, Doug.”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” his father said. “You’d probably go stir-crazy just hanging around here all the time, Douglas, wouldn’t you? And, working outside will give you an opportunity to get some real exercise.”
Doug had trouble keeping from groaning. Leave it to Dad to find a way to lecture him! Why should he go off and work on some dumb project anyhow? “What could I do to help?” he asked. “I can’t use a chainsaw or anything like that, yet.”
“Oh, there are plenty of little jobs that don’t require using power equipment,” said Red. “Sometimes it’s great just to have someone around to deal with the small stuff.”
“If you really think so,” said Doug. “But how would I get there?”
“By bike,” said Red. “It’s not that much farther than the ride we took today.”
Doug remembered the pounding of his heart when he’d finally reached the carriage house. He wasn’t so sure he was up for a regular workout like that.
“Oh, and I can drive him over once in a while,” said Mrs. Cannon.
“Or I can,” said Kate.
“And I’m sure his father can pick him up if one of us can’t,” said Mrs. Cannon.
“Of course,” Mr. Cannon said. “Although I think the biking idea is the best.”
“So, it looks like it’s settled,” said Red. “Okay, Doug?”
“Well, I guess so,” he said. “When would I start?”
“Monday,” said Red. “First thing in the morning.”
Doug sighed. He looked over to where his bike was parked. He’d never realized how much it looked like an instrument of torture.
Olympic Dream Page 2
