Built for Speed: Winter Sports, Book 1

by Declan Rhodes

  “What about James?” asked Anna.

  I said, “Rough patch.”

  She insisted, “That’s it. I should have asked that question first. It’s the obvious thing that would get you down.”

  “And make me sleep for twelve hours?” I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I’ve only seen him a few times. It’s not like I broke off an engagement or got a divorce.”

  “It’s not?” asked Anna.

  “You know it wasn’t. We weren’t that serious. I can handle it.”

  Anna whispered, “I’m not so sure. James was different somehow. It was serious enough that we didn’t see as much of you. I think I can speak for all of your friends on that topic.”

  I winced, but I knew that her comment was accurate. Before my trip to see Sophie, I ate lunch with my friends at least three out of five days of the week. When I returned to Amsterdam, I set up a regular pattern of sharing my lunch hour with James. I got to see him slowly wake up and rake his fingers through his tousled hair. Sometimes he appeared on the computer camera fresh out of bed. He looked adorable even when he was thoroughly disheveled.

  “I guess you’ll see more of me now.”

  “You’re going to feel a hole in your life now, and that’s not good in the winter,” said Anna.

  I protested and said, “You make it sound like I have a fatal disease.”

  Anna laughed softly. “No, it’s not that extreme, but sometimes you do get very emotional about things, Lucas. I’m your best friend. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I get emotional?” She was accurate about that, too, but it didn’t stop me from forcing her to defend her diagnosis. “When am I that emotional?” I demanded an answer to the question in a rising tone of voice.

  “Are you still racing on skates?” asked Anna.

  Unexpected anger began to well up inside. I felt the same “flee” instinct as occurred when I talked to James. I gripped a handful of my hair at the shoulder and willed myself to stay at the table. Anna was one of my best friends.

  I spoke softly and said, “No, I’m not, but that was an extreme situation.”

  “It was? Nobody else makes mistakes like that? I read the other day about one of our national speed skaters losing a race because he read the schedule wrong. It was a mistake.”

  I clenched my teeth and said, “Can we talk about this some other time. I thought the conversation was about James. If things are over, I can handle it. I always find someone else.”

  “Do you know the best way to get over the racing incident?” asked Anna.

  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew it was a lie, but I insisted, “I’m over it.”

  “Get back out there,” said Anna. “You don’t need to skate in some big-stakes national race. Just get out there at a festival and race for fun. Before you know it, you won’t care about the mistake anymore.”

  I gritted my teeth and leaned close to Anna. “I’m not racing anymore on skates. You need to understand that, and if you can’t, I’m going to leave. The conversation is over. Change the topic, or I’m leaving.”

  To my surprise, Anna reached out, covered my right hand with her hand and continued to speak softly. “I won’t push it anymore Lucas. I care about you, and I’m only trying to help. Let me know if there is anything I can do.”

  I said, “Let’s forget it all and go to a movie tonight.”

  She smiled and said, “It’s a deal. I’ll stop by your studio at 7:00, or do you want to eat dinner together before?”

  “Let’s have dinner. I’ll see you at 6:00.”

  I was happy how the lunch ended. It was always that way with Anna. Sometimes she pushed me hard enough that I got upset, but we always found our way back to a comfortable place before hugging each other as we said goodbye. I had a smile on my face when I stepped through the door to my studio.

  The folio containing my most recent sketches leaned against the wall in the corner of the room. It caught my eye as I pulled off my stocking cap and hung my parka up just inside the door. I thought for a moment of destroying the sketch of James. Then I heard a voice inside telling me that I might want it again at some point in the future.

  I strode across the room and picked up the folio. I laid it out on a table. The hockey sketches were high quality. If I could find a customer for them, it would be easy to turn them into quality paintings. I wondered if I should consider a side specialty in sports illustration. Races of all kinds needed publicity posters.

  The sketch of James was underneath the hockey sketches. My breath caught in my throat when I stared at his face again. I got it right. It was like he was there in the room with me. I closed my eyes and swept my hair back off my shoulders. Before I could open my eyes again, my cell phone rang in my pocket.

  I pulled it out to hear Sophie’s excited voice on the other end. She said, “Lucas, I know this is the craziest of things, but I had to call you immediately when I heard about it.”

  “What’s so amazing that it couldn’t wait?” It was still relatively early in the morning in Chicago.

  “You’ll understand. Jerry just called me a few minutes ago. His college is looking to hire a young, rising visual artist as an adjunct professor. They will provide studio space, too.”

  I said, “That does sound interesting, but I’m not far along in my painting career.”

  “Jerry said you’re exactly the kind of person they want. It’s money from a private donation, and the donor insisted that it be both a teaching position and an opportunity for an artist to leap forward in developing their career.”

  Then she made the comment that sent a shiver up my spine. “You would be so much closer to James. Well, closer to me, too. In fact, you could stay here with Jerry and me. Then you could save some money from your salary.”

  I didn’t know whether to tell Sophie about James or not. When I opened my mouth, the words refused to come out. Instead, I said that I needed to think about it. I said, “It’s so sudden, but thank you for letting me know. Can I call you back tomorrow?”

  “Yes,” said Sophie, “but don’t wait long. Jerry said this is the kind of opportunity people will jump all over. He said that he thought being Dutch might be an advantage for you. They like having an international faculty.”

  I asked, “Could I handle a year living in America?”

  “Two if you get the contract renewed. It would be your first step toward living all over the world. Is that still what you want?”

  I thought it was still what I wanted, but a few days ago I thought I wanted James, and that changed overnight. I said, “I think it is. Sophie, I need to think about it, but tell Jerry thank you for thinking of me.”

  My hesitation didn’t crush the lilt in her voice. She said, “I already did that. We both always wish you the best, little brother.”

  As I slipped the phone back into my pocket, I turned my attention to the sketch of James once again. I was convinced I saw him smiling. I couldn’t recall drawing his expression that way. I usually drew athletes with a countenance that indicated their dogged determination. With James, there was a gentle smile at the corners of his mouth, too. It was unmistakable.

  I traced the outline of his body with a fingertip and asked, “Do you want me in America, James?”

  11

  James

  The frustration finally boiled over. I was working on a research paper for my class in architectural history and getting nowhere fast. I stared at the computer screen and didn’t type anything for twenty minutes at a time. Finally, I stood up and threw a book across the room. I’d never done it before, but it felt surprisingly good, so I pitched a second and a third.

  I stared at the books splayed out on the floor. I was a neat and tidy person, and I rarely tolerated things out of my place in my room, but a sense of freedom crept into my consciousness when I stared at the books.

  Five minutes later an expected knock sounded on the door. I heard Cal’s voice asking, “James, are you okay? It sounds lik
e you’re throwing things around.”

  I pulled the door open a crack. “I’m fine. I’m frustrated by the paper I’m working on.”

  Cal leaned against the door to push it open. I relented and let him step into the room. He saw the books immediately and asked, “Throwing books around is helping?”

  “Well, you never know. Maybe if I throw it just the right way, then the ideas will jump from the book into my computer.”

  “Good luck with that one.” Cal sat at the foot of my bed. It was a clear indication that he wasn’t planning on leaving until he found out more information. He said, “At the risk of sounding like a dad, I’m going to say it’s not just about the paper, and I know that. You’ve been moping around for more than a week. That’s not like you at all. You’re our sickeningly bright beam of sunshine most days. Spill it, James. What’s going on?”

  “I haven’t heard anything from Lucas, and I’m worried.” Worry wasn’t the whole story of my feelings about Lucas. I was lonely, too. Our daily contact made me feel like there was someone close. Now I was alone again.

  “The Dutch guy?” asked Cal.

  “Yeah, the Dutch guy.”

  “Have you tried sending a text?”

  I descended into petulance at an alarming speed. “If he wanted to hear from me, then he would send a text to me.”

  Cal held up his hands and backed up on the foot of the bed. “I’m clean out of ideas, then. Maybe you need to push him to the back of your thoughts and buck up. It’s a big world. I’m going to grab the dad attitude again and say there are a lot of fish in the sea. You just found a particularly pretty one. Go for the meaty one next.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “A fat guy?”

  Cal laughed out loud. “I meant a guy with substance. Don’t just grab the prettiest package off the shelf. Find out more about him before you leap.”

  I asked, “Is that how you ended up with Sheri? She’s so perfectly put together that she could be a supermodel.”

  Cal waved his hand. “I’m still in dad mode. Do as I say, not as I did. Don’t distract me from the points I’m trying to make. I got lucky with Sheri. She’s not just pretty. She’s smart, too. After all, she’s the one that chose me.”

  I whispered, “Lucas asked me to race.”

  Cal threw his hands into the air in frustration. He smiled at me at the same time. “I don’t know what to do with you. I guess you’ll have to sort it out yourself. My best suggestion is to get out of this room once in a while. Try doing more than classes and hockey practice.”

  “I should make a snowman in the front yard?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  I followed Cal’s suggestion and spent a little more time outside for the next couple of days. It helped. I didn’t know whether it was the additional sunshine or something else that took a little bit of concentration, but my mood began to lift.

  A surprise waited for me the next day after hockey practice. One of my teammates, Jordi, sat on the bench in the locker room with me while I was pulling my socks and street shoes back on my feet. He said, “Hey, James, I know we don’t hang out much, but I heard you might be interested in trying out speed skating at the oval in Minneapolis.”

  I stared at Jordi. I barely knew him at all. He was a freshman who made the team by the skin of his teeth. He saw little on-ice action during games, but at least he had the benefit of interacting with veteran players and the challenge of trying to keep up. I remembered seeing him in drills on occasion, but otherwise, he was outside of my view most of the time. I attempted to size him up while he spoke.

  I asked, “Who said that? I mean, I’m not saying no, but we barely know each other.”

  Jordi grinned. He said, “I’ve been racing on skates since I was ten. I just started playing hockey in high school. One of my friends invited me to be part of an informal league they have in the Twin Cities. I guess my heart’s still in speed skating, but I like hockey, too.”

  “That’s all great, but it doesn’t explain to me why you think I would want to speed skate.” I suspected Jordi had other information that he wasn’t sharing. I wanted to get to the bottom of stories that were circulating about me.

  “Coach Collins suggested it. He kept me after practice the other day and drilled me on turns, stops, and starts. Then he said, ‘You’re a speed skater, right?’ When I nodded, he said that I should talk to you. He said you’ve been experimenting.”

  I tried not to smirk at Jordi. I’m not sure experimentation was the right term, but I appreciated Coach Collins trying to look out for my welfare. Thinking about doing real speed skating put a lump in my throat because it led to thinking about Lucas.

  As I listened to Jordi, I wondered if getting out on a speed skating track might be one way to deal with my thoughts about Lucas. It would be like working out a muscle while it was in the process of healing. I knew that I would need to take it easy, but indulging my curiosity about racing on skates might make me stronger in the end.

  I asked, “So when do you go up to Minneapolis?”

  “I try to go almost every weekend this time of year. I try to squeeze it in around the hockey games. I know a high school kid and his family in town. They can usually give me a ride. I bet they would be happy to have you tag along. You’re a great hockey player, so you can tell them more if the kid is curious about the game.”

  Jordi’s high school buddy was a tall, lanky blonde kid named Eric. As a Minnesotan, his heritage was likely Scandinavian, and he wore his hair cut short, but he reminded me of Lucas when I saw his blue eyes. By the time we arrived in Minneapolis after a forty-five-minute drive, the differences were apparent.

  Lucas was somewhat quiet, at least soft-spoken, much of the time. Eric was the opposite. He told stories about girls he liked, teachers he didn’t like, and classes that made him struggle. The entire ride was practically a monologue about high school. Eric sat in the front seat with his mom, and he occasionally looked back at Jordi and me in the back seat to make sure we were listening.

  I exchanged glances with Jordi when the most outrageous comments came out of Eric’s mouth. Jordi shrugged helplessly in response. As we exited the car, I held Jordi back in the parking lot and said, “Now I know why you dragged me along. You didn’t want to listen to the ‘High School Commentary’ show alone.”

  Jordi laughed. He said, “It is a little over the top.”

  I started to reply, but I was interrupted by Eric who grabbed Jordi’s shoulder. “Come on; we need to get some free skate time in before they start the races.”

  I asked, “There’s racing today?”

  Jordi nodded as we stepped through the front door of the athletic center. Speed skating wasn’t the only sport that took place in the center, but it held the sole speed skating track for hours around. Jordi said, “They have races every weekend in the winter after open public time for free skating. They even have ones for novice speed skaters if you want to try racing today.”

  I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I was excited to rent the skates because Lucas explained they felt significantly different from hockey skates. The speed skating blades were longer and thinner since racing didn’t require sudden stops, starts, and turns. When I asked Jordi if they had both long and short track skates, he shook his head. “I think all the rentals are short track. They don’t have those long track clap skates. The track is a short one, and at least ninety percent of the skaters here are interested in short track.”

  When I stepped onto the ice with the speed skates attached to my feet, my heart thumped hard in my chest. The gliding was even more effortless than my trips around the rink in my hockey skates. I tried to stay on the outside to avoid any other skaters. I soon discovered that I was faster than the majority of the people on the ice. Eric caught up with me while I rested near the entrance to the track and said, “Wow, you’re impressive for a beginner. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

  I explained that I tried a little bit of racing with a friend using regul
ar old figure skates. I said, “This is my first time on speed skates.”

  He said, “My coach asked me who you were. He said you should consider going to Milwaukee if you want to race.”

  I asked, “Milwaukee?”

  “That’s where a lot of the best American speed skaters train. Their tracks are officially Olympic-sized, and some great coaches live and work there.”

  I felt a surge of excitement in my chest, but it didn’t take long for me to remember my position on the hockey team. I knew that I could consider a more serious approach to speed skating when the current season was over, but I couldn’t make any sudden, rash decisions.

  After the races began, I found Jordi sitting on a bench. I asked, “Do you enter the races?”

  “I sometimes do. I’m going to sit it out today, but Eric will be out there. After he wins, he might be a little insufferable on the way home.”

  “It gets worse?”

  Jordi nodded.

  I said, “You said after he wins like it’s a guarantee. Is he that talented?”

  Jordi looked at me and said, “He’s pretty darn good. I wish I had half of his inborn talent. His parents are paying for big ticket coaching. He’ll spend the summer down in Milwaukee, and I’ve heard them talk about moving to Wisconsin so he can train for the national team.”

  I whispered, “Wow.”

  “Why don’t you enter one of the novice races, James? I would love to see you out there. I bet you’d do well. I’d even put some money down on you winning.”

  “Winning?” I asked. “I don’t really…”

  Jordi said, “You need to enter because you don’t understand what a natural you are.”

  I caved and entered my name for the novice 1000 meter race. When it came time for the race to begin, I was lined up with four other skaters. We were the entire field for the 1000 meter event. I stood at the starting line in the center with two men that were older than me to my right. One appeared to be at least 40. To my left were two girls who looked high school age. They were giggling until the starter called us to our marks.