The next morning, as Olympic Fest was about to start, Kyle stood at the end of a narrow lane, holding the javelin.
Sam ran up to him. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Tired,” Kyle said. His arms felt like spaghetti from practicing so much, and he’d hardly slept the night before.
“Javelin is your best event,” Sam reminded him. “Start it off with a bang.”
Kyle nodded and looked around. The football bleachers were full of parents, friends, and relatives.
Okay, Kyle thought. Time to see if all that practice paid off.
“Are you ready?” an official asked. He stood off to one side, a whistle in his hand.
“I think so,” Kyle said. The official nodded and blew the whistle.
It was time. Kyle raised the javelin up, making sure to carry it in the palm of his hand. He focused on the field ahead of him and ran. Every footstep seemed extra loud. It felt like all eyes were on him.
As he ran toward the line, Kyle pulled his arm back, ready to launch the javelin. He planted his foot and threw.
Then a whistle blew.
“Foul!” an official near the line shouted, a whistle in her mouth. Kyle watched the javelin fly through the air anyway.
It was a great throw. Or it would have been. Kyle looked down. His foot had crossed the foul line.
Kyle got a zero for the javelin throw. He walked over to his group of athletes. He wasn’t surprised to see Trevor grinning.
“Keep doing that,” Trevor said. “You’ll make it even easier for me to win.”
Kyle watched as the rest of the guys threw. Only one other athlete fouled. It didn’t make Kyle feel any better
It didn’t surprise Kyle that Trevor threw the javelin farther than everyone else. Everyone, that is, except Kyle. But because of his foul, it didn’t matter.
“Shake it off, man,” Sam called from the sidelines. “There are still three more events. You can still score a medal!”
I doubt it, Kyle thought. But then he thought about the past two weeks. He’d skipped his favorite TV shows and ignored his video games to practice. He’d worked too hard to give up now.
The shot-put was next. Kyle went last. He held the ball close to his ear, extended his arm like a pro, and spun cleanly twice. The shot flew in a nice arc and landed farther away than any of the others.
Trevor gave him a dirty look. “Lucky throw,” he said.
“Not really,” Kyle replied. Then he prepared himself for the next event.