Gym Candy by Carl Deuker Page B

worthwhile is cheap," he answered.
    That night I sat at my desk and worked the numbers. I had Christmas money from my grandparents and eight hundred dollars in the bank. That would pay for a six-month supply, but no more. Then I thought about
all the clinics and camps my dad had paid for, all the equipment he'd bought me. They'd cost money. Well, this was for football, too.
    My dad was out in the shed, cutting boards for new shelving. The table saw was screeching so loudly that it took a while to get his attention. Finally he shut the saw off, and I put a leaflet down in front of him. "What's this?" he said, taking his goggles off.
    "You were right—I need more power, more strength. I'm going to work way harder at weight training this off-season. These are supposed to help."
    He scanned the leaflet. "I drank a few protein shakes in my time. At Washington, the strength coach was all over us about nutrition." He handed the leaflet back to me. "Looks good, Mick. Take them." He started to put his goggles back on.
    "I want to," I said quickly, "only..."
    "Only what?"
    "Only I don't have enough money."
    He scratched the top of his head and smiled. "I get it. Okay, how much?"
    "About one fifty a month."
    He blew out softly. "Wow. That's a fair amount of money." He thought for a little while. "I'll tell you what. You're working four hours a week for the Jeep—that
doesn't change. But if you want to work more hours, I'll pay you. You can start by helping me with this project. After that there's painting and cleaning the basement and a million other things. You find out what minimum wage is, and I'll pay two bucks more per hour. What do you say?"
    I didn't have to think it over. "It's a deal."
    I stuck my hand out and we shook.
    Sunday morning I took down the old shelves in the shed. The work was gross—there were tons of spiders and spider webs in the corners. My dad rented a U-Haul truck, and I loaded up all the trash and took it to the transfer station. I started at seven and didn't finish until two. He counted out my pay and gave it to me on the spot.
    After lunch, I drove to the supplement store and found the same clerk. I took the money my dad had paid me, added a chunk of my Christmas money, and bought four big bottles of pills and two bags of a powdery protein stuff that you added to milk. "You've also got to eat well," the clerk said as he bagged it. "Meat, dairy, fruits, vegetables, nuts, and beans. No junk. You stuff your body with French fries and drink Coke every day and none of this will do you any good."
    ***
    The pills were easy, but the first sip of the protein powder made me gag. I pinched my nose as I swallowed down the rest, and it wasn't as bad. At dinner I told my mom that I was going to eat healthy. "Don't buy any more junk food," I said.
    "Glad to hear it, Mick."
    Only one thing bothered me: I had to drink a protein shake and take two pills at school during lunch. The clerk had said that timing was key. I was going to have to mix the protein powder into my milk, and Drew and DeShawn would razz me for sure. I decided to try to make a joke of the whole thing.
    Sure enough, when I got a cup and added the powder to my milk on Monday, they both grimaced. "What's that?" Drew asked.
    "It's a protein powder." I stirred. Most of the powder dissolved, but some yellow stuff floated on the top.
    "Looks nasty-nasty," DeShawn said. "What's it supposed to do?"
    "Make me bigger and stronger. You want to try it?" I said, pushing the milk toward him.
    He shuddered. "No way, José."
    I drank it down and then wiped my lips with the back of my hand. "Dee-licious." I flexed my biceps. "This stuff is going to turn me into the Hulk."

8
    The next weekend, my dad had me paint the upstairs computer room. I didn't mind doing the walls, but I hated the windows and the doors. I'd arranged to meet Drew and DeShawn at three on Sunday, and I had to hustle to finish.
    I was getting set to carry the paint out to the shed when my