Juice (5 page)

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to get Tony?”

“If you could just tell him that I'll be a little late today. I have a meeting down at
the Rotary Club at noon. I'm going to try to convince them to put up funds to replace our tackling sled.”

“That would be great!” The old one was pretty beaten up.

“Only the best for the best,” he said. “Tell him I'll be in around 1:00. Are you going to be there still?”

“If you want me to, I will.”

“I want you to. See you then. And Moose, I'm real proud of the way you're leading by example. A coach couldn't ask for a better captain.”

“Thank you, sir. See you at one o'clock.”

Coach closed the door, and the sound of the music playing in the weight room was muffled. He settled into the chair behind Tony's desk. I took a seat across from him.

“You're working really hard,” Coach Barnes said.

“Thanks. I'm trying my best.”

“Actually, everybody out there is trying his best,” he said, pointing out through the
closed door. “Unfortunately, doing their best might not be good enough.”

I was confused. What did that mean?

“What I'm going to tell you has to stay between me and you. You can't talk to the other players about this.”

“I won't, not if you don't want me to. You can trust me, sir.”

“I know I can, Moose.” He got up from his chair, circled around and sat on the edge of the desk, right in front of me.

“These are really good boys. They're all working hard. What I don't know, though, is, do they have enough to win?”

I was shocked. I'd never heard him talk about anything but success.

“I'm going to have more than a few boys on this squad who are going to be starters but really shouldn't be. I just don't have anybody better.”

“You tell them what they need to do and they'll do it,” I said.

“It's not that easy. They'd have to grow four inches, gain fifty pounds and become more coordinated. There's only so much they
can do. What we need is for those who have the ability—people like you—to make up for what they can't do.” He paused. “I need you to be even better.”

“You know I'll do whatever needs to be done,” I said.

“Injuries are going to be critical for us. We don't have any depth. Do you think people would be willing to play through pain?”

“No pain, no gain,” I said, echoing his words. “We'll do what has to be done.”

“You can't speak for everybody. I'm asking you. Would you play through the pain of an injury?”

“I'd do whatever it takes.”

“Whatever?” he asked.

“Anything.”

Coach didn't say anything for a while. He just sat there, staring down at the desk. Didn't he believe me? Finally he spoke.

“You know those protein shakes that you all drink,” he said. “Do you know what's in them?”

“Tony's secret recipe. Lots of ice cream
and milk, but he won't tell anybody all of the ingredients.”

“He won't even tell me, but I know that all of them are bought in nutrition stores, all of them are over-the-counter ingredients. Legal ingredients.”

Legal? I was reassured but disturbed at the same time. I hadn't even thought that anything in those drinks could be illegal.

“Some of those ingredients are anabolic— that means building muscle tissue. That's why you and your teammates are getting stronger so fast. I guess you've noticed.”

“It would be hard not to notice,” I said. I looked down at my arm. It was bigger.

“I'm going to be honest with you, Moose. I need you to be a leader both off the field and on it. I need you to make up for the limitations of your teammates. When you're on that field, I need you to be unstoppable. I need you to be a one-man wrecking squad. I need you to be a monster out there. Championships are won on defense, and you need to be the heart of that defense. Can you do that?”

I felt my heart racing. “I'll try.”

“I need you to do more than try.”

“I'll do it.”

“Will you? Will you do whatever it takes?”

“Anything.”

He smiled. “You know, my sons are just little guys. I hope that they can grow up to be as fine a young man as you've become.”

I felt myself blushing.

“I'm as proud of you as if you were my own.” He paused. “There's still one more step you could take.”

“What is it?” My mind raced, trying to think of what it could be. Did he want me here more often, working out? What could it be?

He put a hand on my shoulder. “I want you to talk to Tony.”

Within fifteen minutes of me talking to Coach Barnes, Tony came up and told me that the two of us should talk— but that that talk would have to be done later on, privately.

Maybe I wasn't the quickest person in the world, but as I spent the rest of that day thinking, I was pretty sure I knew what we were going to be talking about—steroids. It was the only thing that made sense. What else could make me stronger? What else would he
want Tony to talk to me about—especially in private?

We'd learned about steroids in health class. They could help you build bigger muscles and get stronger, but they had side effects. Things like bad skin and baldness—was Tony bald? The way his head was shaved and shiny, who could tell? I also knew there were long-term effects of steroids. Couldn't they cause kidney problems? Or was it cancer? I should have paid more attention. I could still look it up, but not now. Maybe he was going to talk about something else. Maybe.

A car's horn startled me out of my thoughts. It was a big black SUV, and as I watched, the darkly tinted driver's window glided down. It was Tony.

“Get in!” he yelled.

I climbed in.

“Nice wheels,” I said as I settled into my seat.

“Thanks. You want to drive?”

“Me? I don't have a driver's license.”

“Do you want to drive anyway?”

“I think it would be better if I didn't.”

“Suit yourself, but sometimes you have to push those boundaries a bit.”

We started driving. It was strange seeing him someplace other than the weight room. It was almost like he'd been living there, sleeping on the exercise mats. We drove along in silence, music playing softly in the background.

“Did Coach tell you what we're going to talk about?” Tony asked.

“A way to get stronger.”

“Did he tell you what that would involve?”

I shook my head. “But I think I have an idea.”

“Go on,” he said.

Now I felt like I shouldn't talk. What if I was wrong? “Maybe I shouldn't say it.”

“Maybe you should.”

I swallowed hard. “Steroids,” I said. My voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the CD.

“And what do you think about them?” he asked.

“I don't know exactly what to think.”

“You know that I take them,” Tony said.

“I thought that maybe you might have,” I admitted.

“Nobody gets this big and strong without them. Have you heard about the health issues?”

“Some.”

“What have you heard?” Tony asked.

“They can cause baldness, kidney problems, cancer and skin problems.”

“Just for the record, my skin was bad before I took steroids, and I shave my head because the babes love their men to be bald and built.” He paused. “You must find the babes go after you, right?” he said. He laughed and reached over and gave me a little tap on the arm.

“And all that other stuff, cancer, kidney problems. Do you know where all those results came from?”

I shook my head.

“Studies on rats. They gave them gigantic doses and kept giving it to them until they croaked. Most of those studies are just garbage. I know lots and lots of people who are on the juice, and none of them have any problems.”

That was encouraging to hear.

“Besides, nobody's talking about you doing anything long-term. A twelve-week cycle. Maybe a second twelve-week cycle in the spring in the playoffs when the college scouts are all there. That's all. Do you think Coach Barnes would ever recommend anything that would hurt you?” Tony asked. “You should hear the way he talks about you—like a son—like he still talks about Jessie.”

“Jessie McCarthy?”

“Coach says he's the best captain he's ever had, but he said that might change.”

“Wow,” I said softly. “Could I ask you a question?”

“Shoot?”

“Jessie…did he? Does he do…”

“Won't answer that question. Could if I wanted to, but I won't. Just like I'd never answer that question about you. What happens between you and me stays here. It's nobody's business but ours.”

“But isn't using steroids sort of like cheating?” I asked.

“It would be if you were the only one doing it. Half the kids on the line who are standing

across from you, trying to block you, are on the juice. We're just trying to give you what you need to even up the score.”

I nodded in agreement. I couldn't afford to let anybody else have that advantage.

“Is it just me or other people on the team?” I asked.

“Right now it's just you. Maybe later we'll let a few more in. But you can't talk to anybody, even your teammates, about it, and they won't talk to you about it either. I'm the only one anybody will talk to. It won't be many, just those that have a shot.”

“A shot at what?” I asked.

“Scholarships, college ball, maybe even the whole thing—professional ball,” Tony said.

“You think I could play pro ball?” I gasped.

“You have the best shot of anybody on this team. But first things first. I figure you're a lock for college. We'll be spending time trying to figure out your best offer and which school you want to go to. That can be confusing, but Coach can help make that right, so don't worry. You do want to go to college, right?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

“It's just you and your mother, right?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

“And she works in a bank as a teller?”

“She's the head teller,” I said.

“That's great—you must be proud of her. But even head tellers can't make that much money, and college is expensive. I think you might just get a full ride.”

“A full ride?”

“All expenses paid. Your mother won't have to put up a cent for you to go to college.”

“That would be unbelievable!”

“That's where you're wrong,” Tony said. “It's all believable, all doable, all possible.” He paused. “Well?”

I didn't answer right away.

“It's not just for you,” Tony said. “It's for your teammates, for Coach, for your future, for your mother. If you started and wanted to stop, then you just stop, okay?”

I still didn't answer. What was I supposed to say?

“Well?”

Slowly I nodded my head. “I'll do it.”

He smiled broadly. “You won't regret it!” he exclaimed.

I hoped he was right.

“I'll arrange everything. We'll start tomorrow. And what we talked about is between you and me. Don't even talk to Coach about it except through me. Oh, and one more thing. We never use the word steroid again. It's just juice. Special juice. Okay?”

Again I nodded. I felt like I was already questioning my decision, but how could I say no with all of those people depending on me, with my future depending on it? I had no choice but to try.

I closed the door of the bathroom stall and pulled out the pills. Nine of them. Six white and three orange. I rolled them around in my hand. How could these little pills make such a difference? I didn't know exactly how they worked, but I knew they did. The results were clear to be seen. In only four weeks I was pressing and lifting and moving more weight than I'd ever been able to do in my entire life.

I put all nine pills in my mouth, took a sip of water and swallowed them down. I didn't like pills, but it was getting easier. That was good because the number of pills I was going to take was going to increase for another two weeks. It was called pyramiding. It involved starting with a low dose and building it up slowly for six weeks and then decreasing it every week for another six weeks until I stopped completely. Twelve weeks. That was the cycle. That wasn't that much.

I was also taking three different types of steroids—I was stacking them. Stacking was supposed to be more effective than just using one type.

I left the stall and went out to wash my hands. I stood there and looked at myself in the mirror. I flexed my biceps. I couldn't help but smile at my reflection. I was definitely bigger and more defined. That wasn't just my imagination. It was in black and white, right up there on the Wall of Fame.

Almost as obvious was the red zit on my forehead. It looked like I was growing a horn. I had a couple of smaller ones on my
neck, and one big one on my back. But I'd had pimples before. That didn't mean it was a side effect of the juice. And even if it was, so what? I'd trade a couple of pimples for this extra power and potential.

I left the washroom and returned to the weight room. It was a buzz of activity. People were lifting, skipping, running on the treadmill. The TVs were all on—three different shows—none of them audible over the pounding beat of the sound system.

Caleb was sitting on the universal gym, resting between sets.

“You going home soon?” I asked over the music.

“Soon. You?”

“Leaving, but not going home. I have a shift at —” I stopped and spun around in reaction to some yelling. Two of the guys were exchanging angry words. Then one reached out and gave the other a push, and the first pushed back.

“Come on,” I said to Caleb. We ran over to get in between them. Out of nowhere, Tony rushed over and grabbed me by the arm.