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  Cade winced as he stood. He didn’t even know if he had enough strength to lift the bike. But it wasn’t a problem. “I can’t believe how light it is! I can hold it with one finger!”

  “The frame is made with super-strong carbon fiber,” Mr. Grimsby said, grinning. “The same stuff they use to make hockey sticks, tennis racquets, even fighter jets.”

  Cade put the bike down, still shaking his head in disbelief. “What’s the third sport?”

  “Running. By the time you finish the swimming and biking, you’re sucking wind pretty bad. But you still have to lace up your shoes and give everything you’ve got.”

  “So it’s swim, bike, run?”

  “Yup, all three.” Mr. Grimsby tilted his head. “What do you think? Could you see yourself ever doing a triathlon?”

  Cade wasn’t sure. But given the way things had gone down at the pool that morning, he was feeling like maybe his days of only swimming were over. Maybe switching it up wouldn’t be so bad.

  “What have I got to lose?”

  Chapter Four

  Cade heard the car doors slam in the garage. Seconds later his dad and brother came charging into the kitchen. It was early Saturday afternoon, and he had just sat down to eat the PB&J sandwich his mom had made him for lunch.

  “What a game!” his dad said, slapping Trent on the shoulder pads. “Our boy was amazing.”

  Trent was the quarterback for the Calgary Broncos football team. He was still dressed in his uniform—orange jersey and white pants, just like the NFL Denver Broncos. Trent’s team played in the Alberta Junior Football League against squads from Lethbridge, Red Deer and Edmonton.

  Cade glanced at his brother. He was a mess. Grass stains smeared on the elbows and knees of his uniform. The back of his jersey ripped where a defensive lineman must have grabbed it. Dried blood on his passing arm.

  Trent was two years older than Cade. He was a lot bigger and a lot stronger too. He outweighed Cade by twenty pounds and stood at least four inches taller. Standing there in his big shoulder pads Trent looked like a giant. Cade felt smaller in every way.

  “Last play of the game, and Trent throws a perfect strike to our wide receiver in the end zone!” The words came flying out of his dad’s mouth faster than a quarterback calling out signals at the line of scrimmage. “We won by a single point. Trent was the hero and got mobbed by his teammates!”

  “Sounds like quite a game,” his mom said. “But why don’t you let Trent tell us about it? I think he was there too.”

  “You’re right, Trent doesn’t need me to tell you he’s the star of the team and has a real chance to go pro one day. Tell ’em, Trent.”

  Cade waited for Trent to continue the story. He could have described every play of the fourth quarter. How he single-handedly rallied the team. How he threw the pass to score the winning touchdown. How the fans in the stands chanted his name. But he didn’t. “It was no big deal,” Trent said. “It was just a football game.”

  Cade knew his brother really was a star. He heard all the talk at school. How Trent was the best player on the Broncos. How he had an arm like a rifle. How he could run like a speedy halfback. When Cade sat in the cafeteria, girls would pass by him saying, “That’s Trent’s little brother!” Cade appreciated that Trent didn’t brag about football all the time. Unlike his dad. His dad couldn’t stop.

  “Just a football game?” his dad said, getting red in the face. “Football is the greatest game there is! That’s the way I was brought up. It’s a real man’s sport. Guys are getting hit every play. You’ve got to be tough to go hard for sixty minutes.”

  “Swimming is a sport too,” Cade said. He was sick of hearing nothing but football talk.

  “Barely,” his dad replied. “There’s no running. No tackling. No hitting the hard turf. You just dive in the water and swim for a couple of laps. No big deal, if you ask me.”

  Cade glared at his dad. He knew where this was going. He bit his lip to stop himself from saying something he’d regret later.

  “When you and Trent were young, we gave you a choice, remember?” his dad said. “Play football or take swimming lessons. You took the easy way.”

  “You think swimming is so easy?” Cade snapped. It was hard not to fight back. “Then how come you can’t do it?”

  “I’m too old to learn how to swim.” His dad’s voice started to rise. “Besides, swimming is for little kids.”

  Trent turned to face his dad. “That’s not true. Look at the Olympics. You think Michael Phelps is a little kid? He’s six-five and ripped.”

  “Yeah, well, Cade is no Olympic star,” his dad said, shaking his head. “I don’t see any gold medals around his neck.”

  Trent stepped beside his brother. “Actually, I wish I had taken more lessons. I wish I could swim as well as Cade.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, Trent,” his dad said, calming down a bit. “It’s not like you’re ever going to need it. Especially when you’re a pro football player.”

  His father was always favoring Trent’s sport. Always cheering him on. Always going to his games. When was the last time he’d come to one of Cade’s swim meets? Two years ago, that’s when. Cade didn’t win any ribbons that day either. His father never went back. It was like he didn’t care unless Cade won. Now it was only his mom who sometimes came to the meets. And even she was coming less and less as he got older.

  “Your father doesn’t mean it,” she said gently. “We’re all proud of your swimming. You just had a bad day yesterday. There’ll be better swim meets ahead.”

  “Cade got pretty scraped up too,” Trent said, pointing at Cade’s elbows and knees. The scabs were starting to look like strips of crispy bacon.

  Cade’s father glanced at the red scratches on Cade’s arm and shook his head. “Those aren’t real injuries. All Cade did was run into some old man and fall off his bike. It’s not like he was tackled by a giant lineman while throwing a touchdown pass.”

  With only a single bite taken out of his sandwich, Cade stood up and pushed his plate across the table.

  His dad narrowed his eyes. “What’s the matter, you not hungry?”

  Cade met his father’s gaze, then quickly looked away. “Guess I lost my appetite.”

  Chapter Five

  Cade rolled over in bed and yawned.

  It was nine o’clock on a Monday morning and the first time he had slept in for months. Normally, he’d be at the pool doing lengths by now. But he wasn’t sure he was going back to swimming. At least, not anytime soon. He was embarrassed to show his face. He couldn’t beat Gavin or any of the other swimmers at the club. Coach Pedersen had always said to just do his best. But now he knew his best wasn’t good enough. Or at least not good enough to be picked for the relay team. So why keep trying?

  He stared up at the ceiling. He didn’t know why his dad thought football was so much better than swimming, but he did. Cade had always hoped that if he won a swimming race, his dad might respect him more. Not pick on him so much. Maybe even think he was as good as Trent. But that dream was fading fast.

  He got up and shuffled to the window. From his upstairs bedroom he could see all the houses that lined the street. He watched the sprinklers spraying back and forth, trying to keep the lawns green. He liked the hot days of August. It meant summer wasn’t over and school was still a few weeks away. Now that he wasn’t swimming all the time, the days were passing a lot more slowly.

  Cade let out a sigh. He was about to turn away from the window when he spotted a man jogging down the sidewalk. It was Mr. Grimsby. A cap kept the bright sun out of his eyes, and a couple of small water bottles were attached to a belt around his waist.

  Cade thought he must be training for his next triathlon. Wondering how far he was going, Cade threw on a T-shirt and pair of shorts and ran downstairs. He pulled on the basketball shoes he’d kicked off in the front hall the night before and raced out the door.

  Not wanting to bother Mr. Grimsby, he didn’t get too clos
e. He kept back by about a block, being careful not to lose sight of him.

  It wasn’t long before Cade started to breathe hard. If he didn’t slow down, he’d have to stop. He took smaller steps. At least now he didn’t sound like a panting dog. He hoped he could hold that pace and follow Mr. Grimsby as far as he was going. But where was he going?

  Mr. Grimsby ran past the elementary school, the playground with the swings, and three more blocks of houses in the neighborhood. Then he took a right turn and headed down a wooded trail toward Fish Creek, a huge provincial park. This was getting into serious distance.

  The path that followed the creek was one of Cade’s favorite places to bike. He’d see people jogging and wonder why they looked so tired. Now he started to understand why. Trying to keep up with Mr. Grimsby was exhausting. Not only was Cade back to breathing hard, but his feet were starting to hurt. Maybe basketball kicks weren’t the best choice for running long distance.

  Up ahead Mr. Grimsby was reaching for one of his water bottles. Good, thought Cade. Finally he’ll stop to take a drink. But Mr. Grimsby didn’t stop. He grabbed his water bottle, took a sip and kept right on going.

  Cade didn’t think he could follow much farther. He had no water. Sweat was pouring down his face. His legs felt like rubber. And his feet were killing him. After a few more strides he stopped in the middle of the path and watched Mr. Grimsby disappear around a bend into the trees. Just like the pink Energizer bunny on the TV commercials, he kept going and going.

  What had made him think he could ever train for a triathlon? He couldn’t even do the running part. He couldn’t even keep up with an old man. How was he going to bike and swim as well? He turned around and headed home.

  An hour later Cade was on the front steps of his house, sipping a tall glass of lemonade. He figured Mr. Grimsby would be at home having a cold drink as well. But down the street Cade noticed a man with gray hair coming toward him. It was Mr. Grimsby, and he was still jogging!

  “How did your run go?” Mr. Grimsby asked, slowing to a walk in front of Cade’s house.

  “How did you know I was running?”

  “I knew you were behind me, but I wanted to keep my pace.”

  “Are you training for a race?” Cade asked.

  “You bet. There’s a small triathlon in two weeks.”

  “Is it far away?”

  “Nope, it’s right here in Calgary. You should enter it.”

  “Me?”

  “You can swim, bike and run, right?”

  “Yeah, but...”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  Cade worried that his dad would think triathlon was another sissy sport. He was tired of getting put down all the time. Entering a triathlon would just give his dad another reason to pick on him.

  “I’m not sure my dad would like it. And besides, I don’t think I’m in good enough shape.”

  “Up to you, but I think you might enjoy yourself,” Mr. Grimsby said. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. I’ll be out here every morning at nine o’clock sharp.”

  Chapter Six

  Cade rode up to the bike rack outside the aquatic center. But he wasn’t going to the pool today. He didn’t want to risk running into Gavin or Coach Pedersen. He’d wait for Jazz to come out after practice.

  A few minutes later Jazz pushed her way through the doors.

  “Hey, buddy, what’s up?” she said as she made her way to the bike rack.

  “Wanted to say sorry for the other day.”

  “I know you didn’t mean it,” she said.

  “Your race wasn’t stupid. But I sure was for saying it.”

  “No biggie,” she said with a shrug. “So where have you been? Everybody on the team misses you.”

  “You’re just saying that,” Cade said, rolling his eyes.

  The pool doors swung open again, and Gavin marched out. “Well, if it isn’t Cade the Fade.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Yup, the memory of you being a Blue Shark is just fading away.”

  “Zip it, Gavin,” Jazz said. “You know Coach said he can come back anytime.”

  “Yeah, anytime he wants to get beat again,” Gavin said, laughing as he walked away. “Adios, loser. I’ve got to go pack my bags.”

  Cade turned back to Jazz. “I don’t know if I’m coming back.”

  “Maybe you just need to take some time off until after the Games.”

  “When are you leaving?” Cade asked.

  “We fly to Winnipeg tomorrow. We’ll be gone for a week.”

  “You’re going to rock your events,” Cade said. “Nobody can touch you in the 100 free.”

  “I have won most of my races this year,” Jazz said matter-of-factly. “It would be nice to bring home a medal.”

  Cade nodded. “I bet it feels good to win.”

  “You don’t have to come first to feel like you’ve won,” Jazz said, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “Every time you swim a PB, you know you’re getting faster. That’s a win.”

  “Personal bests are great, “Cade said, “but I’d still like to win a race for once.”

  “What about some other kind of race, like biking or running?” Jazz’s face broke into a wide grin. “Hey, what about triathlon? You’d be awesome at that!”

  “How do you know about triathlon?” Cade asked.

  Jazz looked at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t you remember Simon Whitfield?”

  “Who’s he?” Cade asked.

  “He won a gold medal in the Sydney Olympics and a silver in Beijing! How have you never heard of him?” Jazz was shocked.

  “Wow, I don’t know,” Cade said.

  “Canada’s triathletes are very well respected on the international circuit.” Jazz looked at her watch and quickly strapped on her helmet and unlocked her mountain bike. “Hey, I have to get going.”

  The two friends started pedaling for home. They could take the same path, since Jazz only lived a couple of blocks from Cade’s house.

  “Do you really think I could do it?” he asked, pulling ahead.

  “You’ll never know unless you try,” Jazz said, catching right up.

  “Mr. Grimsby said there’s a triathlon in two weeks.”

  “Mr. who?”

  “Just some guy I ran into the other day.” Cade wasn’t about to tell Jazz he had actually run into him! “He’s already entered the race.”

  “You should too!” Jazz said.

  “I was thinking about it. I don’t know...”

  “Hmm,” Jazz said. “Well, we have a month-long break after the Games. And I don’t want to get out of shape just lying around the house, watching vampire TV shows and eating potato chips.”

  “Yeah, like that would ever happen,” Cade scoffed.

  “So I’ll tell you what,” she said. “If you enter, I’ll enter.”

  “You mean it?”

  Jazz nodded.

  “Deal,” said Cade.

  He hadn’t known where he was going to find the confidence to sign up for the race. He’d needed someone to tell him to go for it. Someone he could trust. No one at home seemed to care what he did. And he had just met Mr. Grimsby. He was only being friendly. But now Cade realized that the boost he’d needed was riding along right beside him.

  “But you’re not going to have much time to train for the triathlon when you get back,” he said to Jazz.

  “Then I guess I better start right now—I’ll race you!”

  Jazz took off down the path. Cade watched her shoot ahead, weaving in and out of slower riders. She took a fork in the road and zoomed down a trail that wound along the river. Nothing could slow her down. When there were fallen branches on the path, Jazz crouched down, then pulled up her bike and bunny-hopped over the wood. When they came to a hill, she clicked into low gear and spun easily up the steep slope. Cade struggled to keep up. Jazz carved her way around a few more bends until their houses were in sight. Then she put on the brakes and skidded to a stop. Cade kept pe
daling as hard as he could until he cruised up beside her.

  “With that kind of speed you won’t have to do any extra training,” he said, gasping for air.

  “I said I’d enter with you,” Jazz said, laughing. “I never said I’d let you win.”

  Chapter Seven

  Cade glanced at the clock. “Time to roll.”

  “Where are you off to?” his mom asked, coming into the kitchen. Cade liked that she worked from home as an online travel agent. The previous Christmas, the whole family had flown to Hawaii. Totally awesome!

  “Nowhere special,” Cade said after swallowing his last mouthful of orange juice.

  His mom eyed his clothes. “Hmm. I’m not sure I believe you.”

  “Oh, you mean what’s with the T-shirt, shorts and running shoes?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Plus, it’s not even nine o’clock. These past few days you’ve been moping around the house. Not shooting out the door like a rocket.”

  “I’m going to meet someone.”

  “Jake?”

  “No.”

  “Omar?”

  “Nope.”

  “Jazz?”

  “Not today.”

  “I give up,” his mom said. “But please tell me what you’re up to. You can’t just disappear from the house.”

  Cade looked down at his feet. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want anyone to know he was about to start training for a triathlon. Especially his dad. He would just give him a hard time. Probably laugh in his face. But his mom had him cornered. Cade knew she’d get the truth out of him eventually. He caved.

  “I’m going to meet Mr. Grimsby.”

  “Old George Grimsby down the street?” she said. “Don’t you have any friends your own age you can play with?”

  “Go ahead and laugh, Mom. He may be old, but he’s in good shape, and he knows a lot about triathlon.”

  “So that’s what he’s been doing all these years,” she said, nodding. “I’ve seen him running and biking around the neighborhood, but I had no idea what it was for. Now it all makes sense.”

  “He said he’d teach me all about it.”