Phoenix (3 page)

“They won’t. He’ll be the only finisher. It will give him bragging rights, though.”

Up the trail, Grandfather called out, “Are you coming or not, Grasshopper?”

I felt myself begin to blush, and Jake whistled softly
again. “Harsh, bro,” he said in a low voice. “Totally harsh. He’s got some good ears, though.”

“He’s not so bad.” Then I yelled, “Be right there!”

As I turned and headed for Grandfather, Jake whispered, “I’m
so
glad my parents don’t have ears like that. I would never be able to get away with anything.”

I hurried back up the
trail on foot while Jake rode at my side. It didn’t take us long to catch Grandfather. Jake waved goodbye and cruised up the single-track as I held out my broken helmet to Grandfather, intending to swap it for my broken bike.

“I will continue to carry the bicycle,” Grandfather said. “It has given you enough trouble for one day.”

“What happened is not the bike’s fault,” I said, feeling like a white belt who has failed to pass his rank promotion test. “I’m to blame. I should carry it.”

“I am glad you realize who is responsible,” Grandfather said. “Even so, I will carry it. You were unconscious. You may become dizzy again.”

“Thank you, Grandfather.”

He nodded.

We rounded a bend, and I saw a group of adults that included Jake’s dad hanging out on the trail. Jake was
with them. Jake’s dad called out, “Phoenix! Are you okay? We came down to see if we could help, but you seemed to already be in good hands. Who knew your grandfather could move so fast?”

“I’m fine,” I called back. “Just a bit of a headache. Jake was a big help. I appreciate you all coming down here, but we’re heading back now.”

“All right,” Jake’s dad replied, “glad to hear you’re okay. We’ll see you in the parking lot.”

Jake’s dad retreated with the group in tow. I stopped and waited. Grandfather stopped, too, no doubt sensing that I wanted to talk about something. I wanted to tell him about Slim and Meathead.

“Grandfather,” I said when the others were out of earshot, “did you happen to see a Chinese man this morning, or a big bodybuilder guy?”

“No. Should I have?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“They were out at our house yesterday while you were asleep. I forgot to tell you about it. Then today, my front wheel falls apart. I know I should have checked it this morning before the race, but it was fine on Thursday night. At some point between then and now, someone loosened my spokes. There are fresh tool marks on the spoke nuts. For some reason, I think those guys might be responsible.”

“That makes no sense, Phoenix. What were they doing at our home?”

“Taking soil samples from our septic field. They looked for real. They even had an EPA van.”

Grandfather raised a bushy eyebrow. “That is strange. I thought those agencies leave some type of notice that they have been on someone’s property. How do you know one was Chinese?”

“I heard him speaking on a cell phone.”

“What did he say?”

I looked down at my feet. “I, uh, didn’t hear well enough.”

Grandfather began to walk again, quickly. I looked up and followed. He was moving fast.

“I do not like the sound of this,” he said. “Where was your bicycle yesterday?”

“On the back porch, where I always leave it. It was locked to the railing, but anyone with a spoke wrench could have tampered with the front wheel. It would have only taken a few minutes.”

“Why do you think someone might do this?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they wanted me to lose.”

Grandfather rubbed his long chin with his free hand. “Or perhaps they wanted to sabotage your bicycle in order to create a distraction. They somehow knew you would be racing this morning, and that I would be with you. If you were injured, we would be at the hospital for hours.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “What is going on?”

“I do not know, but I can make a guess. This may not be about you at all, Phoenix. It may be about me. We have to hurry. I am afraid those men you saw may attempt to break into our home.”

We reached the parking lot
just after Jake’s father and the other adults. We headed for our old Ford Ranger pickup, and I noticed someone leaning against the pickup’s hood. It was the kid who’d kicked me in the face. He turned in my direction, and my jaw dropped. I knew him.

His name was Ryan Vanderhausen. His rich uncle blew more money on equipment and training for him than most families earned in a year. Ryan had spent the past semester with his uncle in Belgium, where cycling was more like a religion than a sport. It wasn’t unheard of for riders to get a lot better, or athletes to gain a lot more muscle, by training hard, but what I saw out on the trail and standing before me now was unreal. I could hardly believe this was the same kid Jake and I had smoked time and again last year. Ryan was fourteen then, which meant he was fifteen now, but there was no way a
normal kid could have grown that much in a single semester.

I looked over at Jake. His eyes were as big as mine. Jake’s dad whispered something to him, and they headed to their minivan, shaking their heads. They were probably thinking the same thing I was.
What on earth happened to Ryan?

“Ryan?” Grandfather asked.

Ryan smirked but said nothing.

From behind Grandfather’s truck came a tall, thin man wearing a full road bike racing kit. The man’s riding shorts and short-sleeved jersey were skintight, and his legs were shaved. His brilliant white socks glowed against his deep “roadie” tan, and he had on one of those silly little hats with the tiny brim that bike racers wore in the old days beneath their leather riding helmets. Somehow, though, he still managed to look dignified.

I knew exactly who he was—Dr. Vanderhausen, Ryan’s uncle. “Dr. V,” as he liked to be called, looked almost exactly like Ryan’s father, which was eerie. Ryan’s dad had died of cancer last November. I’d met Dr. V at the funeral. He was a chemist, and he’d gotten rich by developing a diet drug. He’d sold his company for hundreds of millions of dollars and was now enjoying an early retirement.

“Phoenix Collins!” Dr. V said with a cheerful Belgian accent. “Chinese first name, Indiana last name. I remember you. You still look as unique as ever. I bet the girls go crazy over those green eyes.”

I didn’t reply. For some reason, Dr. V gave me the creeps.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t finish the race,” Dr. V continued. “I understand you are normally the man to beat. What happened? Did you have some sort of accident?”

I felt color rising in my cheeks, and I glared at Ryan. I’d always considered him a friend until now. He was an aggressive rider, sure, but he would never have kicked or elbowed Jake or me before spending all that time with his uncle.

I looked at Dr. V. “Why don’t you ask your nephew what happened?”

“Me?” Ryan asked coyly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I blew past you after the root section, and that was the last I saw of you or anyone else. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up with me anymore.”

I ground my teeth, and I felt Grandfather place his hand on my shoulder. “We should leave,” he said.

“Just a moment, sir,” Dr. V said to Grandfather. “Please excuse my rudeness. Greetings to you. I trust you recall we met at my brother’s wake. Allow me to assist.” He raised his arms to take my bike from Grandfather’s shoulder, but I rushed forward to take it.

Dr. V stepped aside and grinned. “I would never let anyone touch my bike as a boy, either. I see that you ride a rigid aluminum frame, Phoenix. How … traditional. Have you ever tried full suspension?”

“You mean like Ryan’s five-thousand-dollar carbon bike with more shocks than wheels?” I asked, unable to
stop my sarcasm. Dr. V was really bugging me. “I don’t think so.”

I walked to the bike rack attached to our pickup truck’s trailer hitch and began to secure my four-hundred-dollar bicycle. I could never afford a bike like Ryan’s.

Dr. V stepped around the truck. “Actually, Ryan’s bike frame is made of magnesium, not carbon fiber, and it cost twelve thousand dollars. It’s state-of-the-art featherweight technology. Nothing but the best for my team members. You could ride one, too, if you play your cards right.”

I stopped. “Huh?”

“Have you ever heard of cyclocross?”

I tried not to roll my eyes. Of course I’d heard of cyclocross. People race road bikes outfitted with mountain bike–type knobby tires over manmade courses that contain obstacles such as wooden barriers and sand pits. Sometimes they even race in snow. It’s ridiculous.

“Cyclocross is essentially steeplechase on bicycles,” I said.

“That’s right,” Dr. V replied. “I formed a European cyclocross team last year, Team Vanderhausen. Our slogan is ‘V equals Victory.’ To be honest, we didn’t do so well, so I’ve built a cutting-edge training facility here in the United States in Texas Hill Country, just outside of Austin. I’m recruiting new talent to try our luck on the American circuit. Ryan and I are flying down there tomorrow and we’ll be there all summer, preparing for the autumn cyclocross season. Would you be interested in coming down to train with us for a month or two? I am
curious to see if you’re as good as everyone says. They say you are as fast as an adult. I will pay all of your expenses, of course.”

“What?” Ryan said indignantly, pushing himself away from the truck. “You never told me this. You want me to ride with
him
? No way!”

Dr. V looked at Ryan. “Afraid of a little competition? I would have thought those vitamins you’ve been taking lately had grown some hair on your chest, along with all of those muscles.”

Ryan looked as though he’d been slapped in the face. He stormed off. I saw a large woman climb out of an expensive sedan and begin to hurry after him. It was his mother. She caught up with Ryan and tried to put an arm around him, but he shoved her away, a look of disgust in his eyes.

Ryan was being a total jerk. His mom had always been nice to Jake and me. I’d never seen Ryan act like this before, to her or anyone else.

Dr. V looked at Grandfather and shrugged. “Irritable teens,” Dr. V said. “What can you do?”

Grandfather said nothing. He removed the truck keys from the pants pocket of his sweat suit and opened the driver’s-side door. I finished securing my bike to the rack and headed for the passenger side.

“Well?” Dr. V asked me. “Are you interested?”

Part of me was flattered that he’d given me an invitation, but I had no interest in riding cyclocross. It was a silly sport. Even worse, Dr. V was creepy.

“No, thanks,” I said, climbing into the truck.

Dr. V reached into one of the water bottle pockets sewn into the back of his riding jersey and pulled out a business card. He handed the card to Grandfather and said, “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Grandfather glanced at the card, then handed it to me. I could tell that he already sensed how I felt about the offer.

“Would you like to go to Texas this summer, Phoenix?” Grandfather asked.

“Nope,” I replied. “Too hot.”

Grandfather started the truck and nodded to Dr. V. “Thank you for your kind offer, but I am afraid my grandson has declined. We must go now.”

Dr. V opened his mouth to say something more, but Grandfather dropped the transmission into drive and spun the wheel, peeling out of the parking lot.