Olympic Dream (4 page)

“Did you finish the race?” Doug asked.

“I couldn’t,” said Red. “They took me off in an ambulance. I’d broken my leg in several places and was laid up for a long
time.”

“But you ride fine now,” said Doug. “So you must have gotten completely better, right?”

“Not exactly,” said Red. “My body no longer has that real competitive edge. I can still ride in simple races, as long as I
don’t push it too hard. In fact, I still belong to the Lakeridge Cycling Club.” He stood up, stretched, and looked down at
Doug. “You know, I’ve always wondered what would have happened if I’d
had my chance in the Olympics. Even when I was on the pro circuit, the dream of racing in them stayed with me. But any thoughts
I ever had about the Olympics, well, since the accident I’ve had to put them out of my mind.”

Doug didn’t know what to say. He just sat there and stared at the ground. It had to have been terrible for Red to lose the
one thing he wanted most: a shot at the Olympics.

“Hey, it’s not the end of the world,” said Red. “Cycling’s loss could just be medicine’s great gain. Maybe I’ll discover a
cure for the common cold.”

“Maybe you’ll get up off your duff and help us haul this load over the track,” said Jimmy Bannister, a bearlike man who served
as the work crew leader. Despite his gruff tone, he was good-natured and everyone liked him.

“Yes, sir, mister boss,” said Red, with a mocking tone to his voice. “Anything you say. Come on, Doug, and give us a hand.”

For the rest of the day, Doug pitched in wherever he could. He soon discovered that he wasn’t being asked to do much real
work. It looked as though the regulars didn’t think he had the strength it took to do
a lot of the jobs. He ended up clearing the small brush and helping drag it out of the way. But he never was asked to lend
a hand on any of the big jobs.

Not so with Billy, he noticed. Once in a while they worked together on the small stuff. But Billy’s height made him a natural
for getting at some tall chores without a ladder. A couple of times, just when the two of them started to talk, Billy got
called away to do just that.

Work was still work, though, and Doug hadn’t done this much in a long, long time. Toward the end of the day, he had no energy
left at all. He gradually drifted into the background until he found a cool spot where he could settle down out of sight.
He leaned back against the trunk of a tree and within seconds was sound asleep.

In his slumber, a picture began to form. At first, it was just a dim sound, like a buzz. Then it grew bigger and bigger until
it was a roar. Bright lights broke through and brought into focus the figure of a boy on a bicycle. It was boy without a face,
but he was about Doug’s age and height. He looked a lot thinner and tougher as he pedaled forward furiously, coming
right into the center of Doug’s vision. The noise became the roar of a crowd. They were shouting “Cannon! Can-non!” Flowers
were being thrown at the boy on the bicycle and eventually a gold crown settled on his head. Suddenly, the five colored rings
of the Olympics rose up in front of him and a ribbon with a gold medal was tied around his neck by a pair of mysterious hands.

“You’ve earned this,” said a voice from the crowd.

Doug blinked his eyes open. The voice belonged to Red, who was standing next to him. He was holding out an ice cream on a
stick.

“I must have dozed off,” said Doug, scrambling up awkwardly. He took the ice cream from Red and bit into it without hesitation.

“Just as well,” said Red. “You put in one heckuva day for your first one on the job.”

“I’ll do even better tomorrow,” said Doug around a mouthful.

“Nope, tomorrow your Mom told me she has work planned for you at home,” said Red. “Besides, we don’t want to wear you out
all at once. And, hey, I’ve got a surprise for you. Jimmy’s going right by your
house, so he’ll drop you and your bike off. You can throw it in the back of his pickup. Sally suggested it. She thought you
looked wiped out.”

Suddenly the ice cream lost its flavor. Sally thinks I’m a wuss! Doug thought, his face turning a dull red. I suppose Red
and Billy and everyone else does, too. Can’t finish the job. Can’t even ride my bike back home. Well, I’ll show them.

“Tell Jimmy I don’t need him,” said Doug angrily. He stomped over to his bike, slapped on his helmet, and climbed into the
seat. “Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I’m weak!”

“Doug, nobody thinks that!” said Red. “Jimmy only offered —”

“I’m fine,” shouted Doug over his shoulder. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

His chubby legs pumped as he headed down the track. In a few seconds he was beyond the sound of Red’s voice.

Beads of sweat rolled down from Doug’s forehead as he pedaled furiously along the restored track. His muscles ached and his
body hurt in other ways, too. The back of his neck flamed where he’d gotten sunburned. His arms stung from where he’d scratched
at a zillon insect bites, and his right thumb had a sliver in it he couldn’t pick out.

But despite these pains, he’d been enjoying himself. He’d felt appreciated. That was before the dream and Red’s waking him
up to say Jimmy would drive him home. Now he just felt humiliated. Well, he’d show them.

The track was longer than he thought, and he was already breathing hard before he’d gone halfway. Just keep pedaling, he told
himself. All you have to do is get home and you’ll be okay.

But what about Red? And Sally? Were they back there talking about him? Were they laughing at him because he couldn’t do the
tough jobs?

The more he thought about it, the sorrier he felt for himself, and the harder he pumped. And the more the sweat poured down
across his face. It oozed into the corners of his eyes and mixed with the tears that he couldn’t keep from coming.

He could barely see when he came to the end of the track. Instead of slowing down for the turn, he went zooming ahead into
the brush. The front wheel of his bike sank into the soft ground and skewed to one side, dragging the handlebars with it.
Doug held on for a moment, then lost his balance and tumbled down into the scratchy undergrowth.

He sat still, afraid to move for a moment. His legs were tangled up in the frame and twisted front wheel. If he could wiggle
them free, he’d be all right. He was reaching over to straighten out the handlebars when he felt a sharp pain in his arm.
He’d been so worried about breaking a leg, he hadn’t even noticed the blood pouring out of a cut just below his elbow. When
he did, his vision swam.

Okay, I know what to do, he said to himself. First of
all, stay cool. Then, I just squeeze my arm a little bit above where it’s cut. Now I add some more pressure, raise my arm
above my heart, and it should slow the bleeding.

He was so busy applying first aid to his cut arm, he didn’t hear the sound of other riders approaching. But before he knew
it, there was Red with Andy Potts and Tommy Lopardo, two other members of the work crew, coming toward him.

“What happened?” Red asked, kneeling down next to Doug.

“Must have been something on the track and I skidded,” said Doug.

He hardly noticed Red glancing over his shoulder to look for skid marks that weren’t there.

“Let’s take a look at that arm,” Red said. “Tommy, grab the first aid kit out of my backpack.” He asked Doug a lot of questions
about whether or not he felt pain anywhere else. When Doug assured him he didn’t, Red called out, “Hey guys, want to give
me a hand getting him out of here?”

Slowly and carefully, they untangled Doug’s legs from the wreckage of his bike. The pain in his arm had turned into a dull
throb, and he was able to assist
them in getting him to his feet. But when he was standing, he felt a little woozy.

“Here, you just sit down under this tree,” said Red. “I’m not trying to play doctor, Doug, but I don’t think you did too much
damage. Guys, his house is just a few minutes away. I’m going to ride over and see if someone can pick him up in a car. I’ll
be right back.”

“What about my bike?” Doug called as Red pedaled away.

Tommy shook his head. “The frame is bent real bad. Looks like you may have totaled it.”

When Mrs. Cannon arrived, she insisted that a doctor look at Doug’s injuries. So over his protests, she drove him to the clinic,
which was open late that day. The doctor confirmed that the cut wasn’t serious.

“But there’s always a chance of infection,” he said. “I’d better give you a shot and some follow-up medication. Then I’ll
put on a clean, new bandage.”

When they got back, Red was up at the house sitting on the front steps with Kate and Terry.

“We heard about the crash,” said Kate. “Too bad about your bike. How’s the arm?”

“Doc says I may never play the violin again,” Doug said sadly.

“Wait a minute,” Terry piped up. “You can’t play the violin now!”

Mrs. Cannon shook her head at their nonsense. “He’ll be fine in a few days. The cut didn’t go all that deep.”

“Look at that,” said Kate. “One day on the job and already my brother’s on sick leave. Who said this kid isn’t sharp as a
tack?”

Their good-natured banter made Doug feel a whole lot better. In fact, for a few moments he forgot all about the accident —
and what caused it.

The next evening, long after dinner was finished and Doug was sitting out on the porch swing looking at a catalog of video
games, Mr. Cannon came over and sat down next to him.

“I had a talk with Red a little while ago,” he said. “He told me he was quite impressed with your first day on the job yesterday.
Everyone was.”

Doug was silent.

His father continued, “In fact, he told me that he
was sure they would appreciate your coming back as soon as possible.”

Doug shrugged his shoulders. He waited for the “working in the outdoors is good for your health” lecture to start. To his
surprise, it didn’t.

“But your bike is beyond repair. I had the fellows over at the garage take a look at it. So if you’re going to continue with
the project, you’ll need a new way of getting back and forth to the site.”

“I guess I’ll have to wait until someone drives me,” said Doug, staring at the porch floor.

“Well, there might be another way,” said Mr. Cannon.

“Oh, yeah? What?” asked Doug suspiciously.

“You
could
pedal your way back and forth if you had a new bike,” said his father. Doug looked up quickly. Mr. Cannon grinned. “As a
matter of fact, I just got one for you.”

“You did!”

“Uh-huh, a new twelve-speed racing bike. Red helped me pick it out for you,” said Mr. Cannon. “It’s tagged with your name
on it at the bike store in the mall. If you like it, it’s yours.”

Doug was stunned. “But, wait a minute, it’s not my birthday for a long time. And Christmas is way off. How come?’’

“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking. You know all that exercise equipment I bought when I got home from the hospital?”

“You mean that junk sitting down in the basement? The stuff Mom wants you to use or get rid of? ”

“Yes, well, I finally did,” said Mr. Cannon. “I sold it—and put the money toward your bike.”

“But you said you
might
use it again someday,” said Doug.

“There’s a reason that stuff’s been collecting dust downstairs. It just didn’t work for me. My morning jog and a set of dumbbells
are all I need. Although Red tells me a muzzle might be a good addition, too.” Mr. Cannon laughed at Doug’s confused expression.
“It seems I’ve become something of a monster, preaching about good health and the wonders of exercise to anyone within earshot.
Especially to you. Red politely told me that, in his experience, the decision to lead a healthy life can’t be made for you.
You have to decide to do it for yourself.”

He laid a hand on Doug’s shoulder and looked him
in the eye. “So that was my last lecture. From now on, no more. If you want the bike, then it’s yours. Let’s call it a member
of the wedding party present. You could be pressed into wedding messenger and errand service, you know. But however you use
it, I trust you’ll do it safely and wisely.”

“But a twelve-speed,” said Doug. “That’s stupendous. And a racing bike. Wow! It’s a lot more than I need for errands.”

“Well, let’s say Red had something to do with it, too. He convinced me that it could be a good investment,” said Mr. Cannon.

Doug jumped up and threw his arms around his father, wincing slightly when his left one made contact. “Thanks, Dad, you’re
the greatest. Hey, Mom,” he called into the house. “Can we go to the mall first thing tomorrow morning?”

Mrs. Cannon had some wedding errands to do, so she agreed to his request. The next day they were at the bike shop bright and
early.

Doug was amazed at the model Red had picked out. It was everything he had ever heard about—and then some. In fact, at first,
he was a little taken aback.

“I don’t know, Mom,” he said. “It’s a lot more bike than I imagined. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to learn to ride it.”

It seemed so lightweight. Would it be strong enough to hold him? That’s what really had him worried. But he decided it was
worth a try. So, along with a box of accessories Red had selected, they loaded the bike into the car and drove home.