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vitamins?” I asked.
    â€œYou’ve always hated vitamins,” my mother said. “When you were little I even tried to get you to take those chewable ones, the ones shaped like little bears and bunnies.”
    â€œI was hoping that instead of bears and bunnies you could get me some vitamin C, and A and some E and—maybe you should just get me the whole alphabet.”
    â€œI’ll get you whatever you want, but why this sudden interest in vitamins?” she asked.
    â€œYou can’t run an engine without putting in the right fuel. That’s what Coach Barnes said. I need vitamins to build up my strength.”
    â€œYour strength? You’re as strong as an ox,” she said.
    â€œI want to be stronger than an ox. I only have fourteen weeks until our first game. That’s fourteen weeks to make it happen.”
    That didn’t seem like nearly enough time. I had no time to waste.

Chapter Six
    I paused at the door to the weight room. The door was locked and there was a little touch pad to enter the code that would open it. It was a four-digit code—a very easy code to remember. One, one, one, one. Coach Barnes had told us that one was the only number we’d need to know because number two and up were for losers. I punched in the code and there was a loud click as the lockreleased. I pulled the door open. I expected that the lights would be off. Instead the hall was well lit and the door to the weight room was open. Had somebody gotten here before me? I heard the sound of weights being lifted. Who was it? Was it Caleb or Robbie or one of the other guys? Then again, it couldn’t be Caleb. If he were here he’d be sitting on a bench, but not actually lifting any weights.
    I poked my head through the door. There was a man—a big man—on a bench doing presses. He was focused on the bar he was pumping and didn’t see me. He was grunting as he lifted, and his muscles—his big muscles—flexed. His arms were gigantic and his chest was as thick as a tree trunk. His head was shaved and shiny, and that made it harder to judge his age, but I figured he was in his twenties.
    I did a quick count of the weight he was lifting, adding up the plates. There were over three hundred pounds on the bar! And he wasn’t just lifting it—he was pumping it up and down, up and down, like his arms were pistons in a car. It looked like he wasn’t evenworking that hard. How many had he done and how many was he going to do?
    At that instant he lowered the bar into the cradle. He sat up, saw me and smiled. There were a couple of big, angry-looking zits on his face.
    â€œGood morning. You have to be Michael,” he said.
    â€œYeah, I am. How did you know?”
    â€œCoach Barnes told me that he thought you’d be the first one here.”
    He stood up. I was surprised. He was really built, but he was short. I was a full head taller than he was. Somehow, when he was sitting on the bench, his muscles all big and bulging, I thought he was taller.
    â€œI’m Tony,” he said, offering me his hand. We shook. His grip was strong and powerful. “I’m the strength coach.”
    â€œWe have a strength coach?”
    â€œYou do for the summer. I’ve been hired to create and monitor an individual program for every member of the team.”
    â€œYou’ll tell us what weights we should use?” I asked.
    â€œWhat weights, what machines, how many reps, how often and in what order. But I’ll be doing a lot more than that. I’ll be looking at your diet, vitamins and food supplements.”
    â€œThat’s great. I was just telling my mother this morning that I needed some vitamins.”
    â€œYou do, but tell her to save her money. We’ll supply everything.”
    â€œEverything?” I asked in amazement.
    â€œEverything except for the most important thing, and that you have to supply.” He tapped me on the chest. “The