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  “That was nice of him, considering how you met. You know…by accident.” His mom grinned at her own wisecrack.

  “I’m not in the mood for your lame jokes, Mom.”

  “Just trying to cheer you up,” she said, smiling. “Since when have you been interested in triathlon anyway?”

  “Since I came last in my race,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it, Mom. It made me wonder if I should be swimming at all.”

  His mom nodded. “I know you took that hard. A new sport might be just what you need. I’m sure your father will agree.”

  “No he won’t. He doesn’t think swimming or anything else I do is any good.”

  His mom shook her head. “That’s not true. He’s proud of both you and Trent.”

  “You must be blind,” Cade said, throwing up his hands. “All he cares about is Trent and his football. He couldn’t care less what I do. Unless I became a star quarterback overnight. And that’s not going to happen.”

  His mom crossed her arms. “Your father just understands football better.”

  “Why’s that? It’s not like he was some star player in high school or something.”

  “Maybe you should ask him sometime,” his mom suggested.

  “Yeah right,” Cade said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll just get more excuses about why he likes football so much.”

  “Well, I still think he’ll be impressed when he hears you’re training for a triathlon.” She put her arm around Cade’s shoulders. “You can tell him when he comes home from work tonight.”

  Cade shook off her arm. He pushed his chair away from the table and got to his feet. “I’m not going to tell him.”

  His mom put her hands on her hips. “You shouldn’t hide things from your—”

  “And you can’t tell him either!” Cade blurted out. “You have to keep it a secret. I don’t want Dad or Trent to know anything about it. Please, Mom.”

  Chapter Eight

  There was a stand of tall evergreen trees in the park across the street from Mr. Grimsby’s house. Cade hid behind them and peeked between the branches. He still wasn’t sure the old man wanted to see him. Maybe he’d just felt sorry for him after the bike crash the other day. Finally, he stepped into the open.

  “I was hoping you’d make it,” Mr. Grimsby said, looking up. He was sitting on his front lawn, stretching his legs. “Come on over. I was just about to go for a run. You can join me.”

  “I don’t know if I can keep up with you,” Cade said.

  Mr. Grimsby stared down at Cade’s feet. “Not if you’re wearing those shoes, you can’t.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” Cade asked. “They’re my best basketball kicks.”

  “Last time I checked, basketball shoes were made for shooting hoops, not long-distance running. They’re too big and too heavy.”

  “Oh,” Cade said, hanging his head. “I guess I’ll run by myself later.”

  “I have a better idea. Come with me.”

  Cade followed Mr. Grimsby into his house and down some stairs into the basement.

  “Wow!” Cade said, twisting his neck around like an owl. “I’ve never seen so much sports equipment in one room. Except maybe at a sports store.”

  Cade could see two racing bikes, one mountain bike, a weight-lifting machine and barbells on the floor. There was even an exercise bike that wouldn’t go anywhere no matter how fast you pedaled it.

  “Yeah, there’s a lot of stuff, all right,” Mr. Grimsby called. He was in the next room, searching for something. “But I like to train every day. So if the weather’s just too awful, I come down here and put in an hour or two.”

  Mr. Grimsby came out carrying a big cardboard box. “I’m sure there’s a pair of old shoes in here that will fit you.” He put the box down and started to rummage through it. “I think we’re about the same size.”

  Cade peered into the box. It was filled with stacks of old running shoes in every color.

  “Wow! I’ve never seen so many.”

  “I never throw my old shoes away,” Mr. Grimsby said, chuckling. “They remind me of the races I ran years ago.” Finally he pulled out a bright-red pair. “Here, try these.”

  Cade laced them up and jogged on the spot to test them out.

  “These are a lot lighter and softer than my high-tops, for sure. It’s like I’m not wearing shoes at all!”

  “Ready to give them a try?”

  Cade nodded and grinned.

  “Then let’s head outside.”

  When they got to the road, Cade sprinted ahead. He wanted Mr. Grimsby to know he could keep up with him no matter how fast he ran. He didn’t want to be left behind like the last time.

  “Where’s the fire?” Mr. Grimsby called. “Slow down and breathe easy. You don’t have to run like a cheetah to improve your fitness.”

  Cade dropped back beside Mr. Grimsby. He checked his pace and matched him stride for stride.

  “That’s better.”

  “How do you know how fast to run?” Cade asked.

  “There’s a test for that.”

  Cade swallowed hard. He didn’t know he’d have to take a test just to run with Mr. Grimsby. Exams were at the bottom of his list of things he liked about school. Somewhere between doing homework and getting to the bus stop on time.

  “It’s called the talk test,” Mr. Grimsby explained. “As long as you can still carry on a conversation while you’re running, you know you’re running at the right speed.”

  Whew! That was one test Cade knew he could pass. He and Mr. Grimsby continued to talk as they ran down into the park. After what didn’t seem like long, Mr. Grimsby glanced down at his wrist.

  “That’s three kilometers. Time to head back.”

  “How do you know how far we’ve gone?”

  “It’s all right here,” he said, holding up his black watch. “This baby has a GPS system on it that tells me how far we’ve run and at what pace. It can even tell me how fast my heart is beating.”

  “Wow! It’s like a mini computer.”

  “That’s exactly what it is.”

  Mr. Grimsby took an extra-deep breath as they ran over a bridge with the creek rushing beneath them. “There’s nothing better than getting out of the house and enjoying nature. Just look around—green grass, leafy trees, blue water.”

  Cade didn’t know what was so special about grass and trees and water. He saw them every day. But he did like being out of the house. “Yeah, sometimes I’d rather not be at home.”

  “Problems?”

  “My dad thinks football is the only sport there is. He thinks I’m a wimp for not playing. But I’m not big enough, like my brother.”

  “You’re plenty big for lots of other sports,” Mr. Grimsby said, glancing at Cade. “And triathlon isn’t for wimps. You’ll see.”

  “When my dad gets on my case, I just want to walk away.” Cade ran for a few more steps and smiled. “At least now I can run away.”

  “I need to get out of the house every so often too,” Mr. Grimsby said.

  Cade wondered why Mr. Grimsby needed to escape. He was pretty sure he didn’t still live with his dad. “Is there someone you want to get away from?”

  “Mrs. Grimsby,” he said quietly. “But don’t get me wrong. She’s the sweetest person I know.”

  “Then why would you need to get away?” Cade asked.

  “She doesn’t remember who I am.”

  “She forgets who you are?”

  “Yeah, she’s got dementia,” Mr. Grimsby said. “It’s really sad. Takes away all your memories.”

  Cade thought about what it would be like not to recognize his best friends, like Jazz. “It must be terrible.”

  “I don’t mind taking care of her. I just need some time every day when I’m not worrying about her. So I go for a swim or a run or a bike ride.”

  The two runners rounded the last bend and headed for home. Cade’s legs felt tired, but better than they had when he was wearing his high-tops. These new sho
es were awesome. He felt good knowing he had passed the run test too. Talking to Mr. Grimsby had been easy. And he had discovered that they had something more in common than just triathlon.

  “Sorry your wife doesn’t know who you are,” Cade said when they reached his house. “Sometimes I think my dad doesn’t know who I am either.”

  Chapter Nine

  “But I don’t want to watch the game,” Cade complained. “It’s boring.”

  “Boring?” His dad stopped pouring milk on his cereal and stared at him. “I’ll tell you what’s boring to watch—a swim meet. This is a football game. There’s nothing more exciting.”

  On weekday mornings now, Cade waited until his dad left for work and then went running with Mr. Grimsby. It was paying off too. His legs felt stronger every time out. But today was Saturday. On the weekends, Mr. Grimsby went for bike rides of six hours or longer. There was no way Cade could ride that far, so today Cade had planned to go for a run by himself. His dad had other ideas.

  “I’ve seen Trent play before,” Cade said, trying to think of reasons not to go. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Trent’s the star player. Every game’s a big deal.”

  “I’m just the quarterback, Dad,” Trent said, joining them at the breakfast table. “Only you think I’m the star.”

  “Whatever,” Cade said. He was tired of all the football talk. “Just go without me.”

  “You’re coming,” his dad said, tilting his head at him. “And that’s final.”

  Cade got into the back of the car, clicked his seat belt and crossed his arms. His dad and brother sat in the front. Trent was already dressed for the game in his orange Broncos uniform. His shoulder pads were so big it made it hard for him to get through the car door.

  “At least I’ll be protected if we ever get into an accident,” he joked.

  “Maybe you should put on your helmet just in case,” Cade said with a laugh. “If it can fit over that big swollen head of yours, that is.”

  “I don’t like joking about those things,” his dad said, gripping the wheel. “I’ve never had an accident and never will. Especially on the way to a game.”

  It wasn’t long before the football chatter started.

  “You can beat these guys, Trent.”

  “I don’t know, Dad. The Eagles have a good defense.”

  “Just remember, the only way to win is to pass.”

  “But Coach said he wants to run the ball today.”

  “What does he know?”

  “He’s been coaching for twenty years,” Trent fired back. “And won championships.”

  “Big deal,” his dad said, taking his hand off the steering wheel. “I’ve been watching football on TV for twenty years. And I’ve learned a thing or two about winning.”

  Cade watched Trent turn away from their dad and stare out the window. Whether he was talking about football or swimming, their dad always thought he was right. The car was silent for the rest of the fifteen-minute drive to the field.

  As soon as they parked, Trent hopped out and ran to join his teammates on the field. Cade thought this was a good chance to make his escape too. He started to walk away from the car.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” his dad asked.

  “For a walk,” Cade said. “I’ll be back in time for the game.”

  “Forget it. You’re sticking with me.”

  Cade followed his dad to the field. There was a group of parents sitting in the stands near the Broncos bench.

  “Look who’s here, everyone,” one father said. “The star quarterback’s dad.”

  “What did I tell you?” his dad said, elbowing Cade in the ribs. “They think Trent is the best player too.”

  “Is that the next star quarterback standing beside you, Darrel?” the father asked.

  “Who, Cade?” His dad laughed, shaking his head. “No, no, he’s just a swimmer. There’s only one athlete in the family. And he’s on the field.”

  Cade and his dad found seats near the other Broncos fans. After what seemed like forever, the referee finally blew his whistle to start the game. The Broncos ran back the opening kickoff to their own forty-yard line. Cade saw Trent getting some last-second orders from his coach on the sideline. Then he came running onto the field with the rest of the Broncos offense.

  “Let’s go, Trent!” his dad shouted.

  Trent called the first play. It was a handoff to the running back. The opposing team stopped him cold at the line of scrimmage. There was no gain.

  “I can’t believe Coach made him call a running play,” his dad said loudly. “I told him to pass.”

  Trent called the second play. It was another run. This time it was a sweep around the left side. The Broncos running back was fast, but the Eagles defense was even faster. He was met by a swarm of defenders. The Broncos runner was tackled after picking up only two yards. It was third down. The Broncos would have to punt the ball to the Eagles.

  Cade’s dad jumped to his feet. “Coach!” he shouted, cupping his hands together. “That’s the dumbest call I’ve ever seen! You have to pass!”

  “Don’t worry about it, Darrel,” another father said. “It’s only the first set of downs. Coach will figure it out.”

  “Coach doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s making my boy look bad.”

  “Sit down,” said a mother. “You’re blocking my view.”

  Cade’s dad sat down. But only until the Broncos got the ball back. Then he was back on his feet, yelling at Coach again. “Even I’d be a better coach than you!”

  The other parents in the crowd started to grumble. Some shifted a few seats farther from where Cade and his dad sat. Cade realized they didn’t want to be near him. Cade didn’t want to stay there either. It was all totally embarrassing. He felt trapped. He needed to get out of there.

  Cade stood up and started toward the stairs.

  “Get back here!” his dad shouted. “The game’s not over!”

  “It is for me.”

  All the other parents turned their heads to watch. Mothers and fathers gave disapproving looks. Shook their heads. Whispered between themselves.

  “Don’t expect a ride,” his dad replied.

  “I don’t need one!” Cade shot back.

  “It’s a pretty long walk.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, stepping onto the grass. “And who said I was going to walk anyway?” He didn’t know if his dad even heard him. Who cared?

  He gave his dad once last angry stare. Then he started to run.

  Chapter Ten

  Cade pulled back on his handlebars. He popped up his front tire and wheelied down the driveway. He hopped over the curb, tore down the street, then squeezed his brakes, skidding to a stop in front of Mr. Grimsby’s house. Those mountain-bike tricks should impress him.

  “Nice moves,” Mr. Grimsby said, kneeling beside his own bike. “There’s just one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ll never need them in a triathlon.”

  “Oh,” Cade said. Now he felt stupid for trying to show off.

  “It’s good that you can control your bike, but triathlon is more about riding straight and long.”

  “I can do that.”

  “I bet you can. What do you say we give running a break today and go for a ride?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. I went for a run on the weekend.”

  “Doing a little extra training?” Mr. Grimsby asked.

  “A little more than I had planned,” Cade said.

  Mr. Grimsby gave Cade an understanding smile. “That’s the great thing about being a triathlete. You can always escape. If you don’t like the situation you’re in, you can just swim, bike or run away from it.”

  “So what are we waiting for?” Cade asked. He was anxious to get going and leave behind thoughts of his dad.

  Mr. Grimsby clipped on his helmet and swung his leg over his sleek bike. “Follow me,” he said, rolling down the drivewa
y onto the street. “Just make sure you stay behind me single file. We don’t want to get close to any cars.”

  Cade pulled in right behind Mr. Grimsby. He was stoked for the ride. At first everything went fine. He was able to match Mr. Grimsby’s speed. But after a few minutes he had to push harder on his pedals just to keep up. The thing was, it didn’t seem like Mr. Grimsby was trying at all. His legs weren’t turning anywhere near as fast as Cade’s. For every one turn of his pedals, Cade had to take two. It wasn’t long before he started to fall behind.

  “Wait up!” Cade shouted.

  Mr. Grimsby came to a stop and waited for Cade to catch him.

  “I’m too slow,” Cade groaned.

  “I don’t think you’re too slow. But I think your bike might be.”

  “What are you talking about? This is a great mountain bike.”

  “Do you see any mountains around here?” Mr. Grimsby asked, grinning.

  Cade looked around—nothing but flat fields as far as he could see. “I guess not.”

  “Don’t worry. I have an idea how to make your bike faster. Let’s head back to my house and get to work.”

  “What’s the biggest difference between your bike and mine?” Mr. Grimsby asked, eyeing the two bikes on the driveway.

  Cade compared the two. “Mine looks a lot heavier.”

  “Sure does. Look at those fat, knobby tires. They’re great for going down muddy trails and jumping over rocks—”

  “But not so great for speeding down paved roads,” Cade said.

  “You got it.” Mr. Grimsby nodded. “And those fenders over the front and rear wheels?”

  “What about them?”

  “They’re just going to weigh you down.”

  “It would be great to have a special triathlon bike,” Cade said. “But I don’t think I can afford one.”

  “No worries,” Mr. Grimsby said. “I’ve got a way to make your bike go faster. And it’s free.” He rustled around in a box of old biking parts he had brought up from his basement. “Here we go.”

  Cade watched him pull out two tires. They looked a lot different from his.

  “See how smooth and light these are?” Mr. Grimsby asked. “They’re called ‘slicks’.”