Olympic Dream (3 page)

“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.

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.

The bike trip to the Rails to Trails project wasn’t quite as bad as Doug had imagined it would be. Luckily, the last part
was on a flat stretch of reclaimed railroad bed that provided for a nice, smooth ride.

When they got there, Red introduced Doug all around.

One woman, who said her name was Sally, handed him an orange T-shirt with
RAILS TO TRAILS
in big green letters on the front. A lot of the others were wearing them. Doug went to put his on, but it didn’t fit. He
looked at the label. It said “Large,” but he
knew it was too small for him. He hung it over his handlebars and put his own T-shirt back on.

Most of the workers were Red’s age or older. Doug thought he’d be the youngest person on the job. Then he spotted another
kid who looked about his age leaning against one of the trucks. He was tall and skinny, with pale skin and jet-black hair
that flopped over his forehead.

There was no time to find out who he was, though. People had started unloading equipment and it looked as though work would
begin right away.

Doug was starting to feel a little weak in the knees about joining up with this group, when he noticed the open back of a
station wagon to one side. In between the people who partially blocked his view, Doug could see a coffee urn and cartons of
what had to be doughnuts.

“That’s for later, when we get hungry,” said Red, following his gaze. “Right now, there’s work to be done. How about giving
me a hand carrying these tools?”

For the next hour, Doug stayed pretty close to Red. He handed him tools and fetched small pieces of equipment, and once he
went over to the open sta
tion wagon to bring him back a tall cup filled with plain old water. A whiff of doughnuts made his stomach rumble, but he
tried to ignore it.

The tall, skinny kid was chugalugging a drink from a big thermal cup. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked
over at Doug.

“Hi, I’m Billy Torrant,” he said.

“Doug Cannon.”

“Ya get real thirsty out here, huh?” said Billy.

“Yeah,” Doug answered. “You been on the job here long?”

“No, I only moved into town a little while ago. This is my first day,” said Billy.

“Me, too,” said Doug, brightening at the discovery he wasn’t the only newcomer.

“Yeah,” said Billy. “I’m here ‘cause my folks think I should toughen up. I eat okay, but I’m still kind of skinny. They’re
worried that when I start school, the other kids will poke fun at me—like some of them did where we used to live. They wanted
me to go to some fitness camp this summer, but I couldn’t because of the move. And then they saw one of those posters and
thought I might get some exercise working on this project.”

“That could have been one of the posters I helped to put up,” said Doug.

“Hey, Doug, you got that drink? I’m parched!” came Red’s voice from down the track.

As the next hour passed, Doug got to know a few of the other men and women working on the project.

He found himself helping them as much as Red.

Suddenly, someone shouted, “Coffee time!” and work fizzled away as the midmorning break started.

Doug got himself a small container of milk and a jelly doughnut. He went over to where he and Red had parked their bikes in
a shady spot and flopped down. Red was already there. He held a Thermos to his mouth and took a long, deep drink.

“Do you bring your own coffee?” Doug asked.

“No, it’s a kind of herbal tea I like,” said Red. “I’m not much into coffee and regular tea.” He crunched on a big red apple
he’d produced from his knapsack.

Doug’s doughnut suddenly seemed soggy and unappetizing. After two mouthfuls, he put it aside. Without a word, Red fumbled
into his knapsack, pulled out a second apple, and offered it to Doug. Doug hesitated, then accepted it.

There was so much about Red that Doug didn’t
know. Every time he turned around, there seemed to be something new. But the one thing Doug was most curious about didn’t
seem to be something Red liked to talk about: why he’d stopped racing.

There was a long silence between them.

“Okay, you want to know why I gave up cycling, right?” Red asked.

Was he a mind reader? Doug wondered.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Red went on. “But it was at the time. See, I had really fallen in love with it. There was nothing
else in the world I wanted to do. So I decided I’d go the amateur route and then eventually turn pro.”

“Really?” asked Doug. “How far did you get?

“Pretty darn close,” said Red. “I’d won a lot of races as an amateur and even came close in a few international ones.” He
took a final bite of apple and chewed.

“What I really wanted was to compete in the Olympics. Yeah, I dreamt of winning that gold medal all the time. My training
was pretty well concentrated on just one event: the individual pursuit. But it didn’t work out. I wasn’t good enough the first
time I tried to qualify.” Red had a distant look in his eyes. Doug held his breath, waiting for him to go on.

“Anyway, by the time the next Olympics rolled around four years later, I had gone pro. In fact, when your sister first met
me, she recognized me from a newspaper picture. I was holding a cup I had won. Funny,” he added. “That was the last race I
ever competed in.”

“Your last race! Hey, what made you stop racing?”

“I had an accident.”

“A bad one? During the race?”

“Yes, to both questions,” said Red. “I made a dumb mistake on a turn and took out several others. But I was the only one seriously
hurt.”