Olympic Dream (2 page)

It was going to be a long summer.

For Doug, the excitement of the fire was canceled out by the fact that his favorite hangout was burning to the ground. He
couldn’t wait to talk to his family about it. But when he got back from town, the news of the disaster died on his lips. Terry
and Kate were out on the front porch with a tall, red-headed guy. He wore a gray T-shirt with his college colors on the sleeve,
and it fit his trim, muscular body like a second skin.

“Hey, Doug,” said Terry. “Kate said she told you about our getting married. Pretty cool, huh? This is my buddy, Red. You guys
are both going to be in our wedding, so you might as well get to know each other.”

“Uh, hi,” said Doug, suddenly feeling like a lumpy sack of potatoes. He automatically sucked his stomach in.

“Nice to meet you, Doug,” said Red, stretching out a hand.

Doug expected a crusher grip that would make him feel like a real weaklingi But Red’s handshake was firm without doing any
damage.

Maybe he’s not so tough, Doug thought. And as far as looking like one of those guys in the ads for health clubs, well, maybe
he’s just lucky and was born like that. Not like Dad with his “heavy genes,” the same kind I probably have.

Then Kate and Terry began talking about places to go on a honeymoon. Doug was about to head into the house when Red turned
to him and said, “I hear you’re a hockey player. Goalie. That’s a lot more work than people think.”!

“I guess,” Doug agreed with a shrug. “They say you have to …”

For the next few minutes, they discussed some of the finer points of defensive hockey, until Mr. Cannon called out that dinner
was ready.

Doug would have liked to keep on talking with Red, but the dinner conversation that night at the Cannon house was firmly fixed
on the wedding. When Doug finally did get a word in, it
was to tell them about the fire at the video arcade.

“That’s too bad,” said his father. “I hate to see any business hit so hard, but I’m sure they’ll reopen eventually. Their
insurance will pay for it. It’ll be a while, though.”

“Terry tells me that you’re a real ace at video games, Doug,” said Red. “That is, after he confessed how many times he lost
to you over there.”

Doug had to smile. Red Roberts was one of the friendliest guys he’d ever met. Terry, who was pretty sharp himself, sure knew
how to pick his buddies.

Mrs. Cannon and Kate were talking about dresses and shoes while the guys kept up their own conversation at their end of the
table.

Terry speared a piece of bright green asparagus from the serving bowl. “You’re off to work bright and early tomorrow, Red,
aren’t you?”

“Are you working at the hospital?” asked Doug.

“Nope,” said Red. “I’ll be seeing enough of the not-so-great indoors soon enough. I’m spending the summer working on an outdoor
project. But first, I have to find me a place to live.”

“Red did it backwards,” said Terry. “First he de
cided he liked it here, then he got this terrific job, and now he’s staying with me till he gets his own place. With my two
brothers and three sisters, it’s a little crowded at the Walcott homestead.”

“Maybe we could help out. What about the carriage house?” asked Mrs, Cannon.

The carriage house stood at the beginning of the Cannons’ driveway, close to the road. The Cannons had their carport made
into a garage, and the carriage house was pretty much a storage barn now.

“It has that little place Upstairs that carriage drivers lived in,” Mrs. Cannon explained.

“Yes, there’s electricity, and running water too,” said Mr. Cannon. “Just needs to be turned on.”

“And cleaned out,” said Kate, wrinkling her nose. “Probably find all kinds of mementos up there. Phew!”

“Never mind,” said Red. “Sounds real interesting to me. Can we take a look at it?”

“Sure, it’s still light out,” said Mr. Cannon.

“But first, how about some of this blueberry pie with a little vanilla ice cream?” suggested Mrs. Cannon. “Doug, here’s yours.”
She handed him a heaping dish that threatened to topple over.

“I’ll skip dessert, thank you,” said Mr. Cannon.

Without looking up from his plate, Doug could feel his father’s disapproving look bearing down on him as he shoveled in his
pie and ice cream. It made him eat it all the faster.

After sighs of pleasure had been heard all around, a group of young people with blue mouths followed Mr. Cannon down to the
carriage house.

It turned out to be in better condition than anyone thought.

“Won’t take all that much work to whip it into shape,” said Red.

“And you can use any of this old furniture we’ve been storing here,” said Mr. Cannon.

Within a few minutes, it was agreed that Red could settle in as soon as they got the place cleaned out.

“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 the 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.