Seconds Read Free Page B

best! Come on. Sit down.”
    Jake sat. But he didn’t fill up his taco shell. His brother, Luke, was waving a bowl of shredded cheese in front of his face, but Jake didn’t take it. “Serious runners don’t eat spicy food.”
    â€œUh-huh. So what’s stopping you from eating it?” Luke grinned. Jake glared at him. “Okay, okay, more for me.” Luke shrugged, setting the bowl down in front of himself. “I like tacos.”
    Me too, thought Jake. But…he sighed. “Is it okay if I just have peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches?” He looked at his mom.
    She looked at his dad. “Ask Dad. He’s the chef today.”
    â€œDad?”
    â€œSure, sport, but you don’t know what you’re missing.” He winked.
    Jake went to the cupboard. “Mom, we need more peanut butter.”
    â€œPut it on the list.”
    â€œAnd more bread. The whole-grain stuff.”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œAnd chocolate milk. Chocolate milk is key for post-race recovery. So lots of chocolate milk.”
    â€œYes, your highness.”
    â€œOh, and Mom,” cut in Luke in a commanding voice, “we need more pretzels. Pretzels are perfect for post-practice recovery.”
    â€œAnd ice cream,” Jake’s dad added. “Ice cream is ideal for post-taco recovery.” He wiped his forehead. “Whew. These are hot, all right! Bring on the butterscotch ripple.”
    Jake looked around. They were laughing! He knew he was going to have to work on being mentally tough, but he didn’t realize he’d need it to deal with his own family.
    â€œWhat’s so funny?” he asked.
    â€œOh, we’re not laughing at you, Jake-O. We’re laughing with you,” said Luke, grinning.
    â€œSure, except I’m not laughing.”
    â€œWell, then, maybe we’re laughing for you, Jakey. I think you may have forgotten how,” said his dad with a smile.
    Jake suddenly felt frustrated. They just didn’t get it. “Look,” he said. “I need food for fuel. Good food. The right food. What’s the problem with that?”
    â€œNothing, Jake. Nothing at all.”
    â€œI eat to run. I take running seriously. Running is good for you.”
    â€œYes,” said his mother softly. There was a hint of worry in her eyes. “It’s supposed to be.”

Chapter Seven
    Jake was grumpy. He had managed to push himself for another fifteen minutes in his evening run, but it hadn’t come easy. He felt like a fish out of water, gasping for air. His mom was sitting at the table, reading the paper, when he came in. “Hey, Jake. Did you see the construction at the corner?”
    â€œNo. What corner?”
    â€œThey’re putting up a new restaurant. On the corner of our street and Swift. It’s going to be called Sl-ice.”
    â€œWhy are you saying Sl-ice?”
    â€œThat’s the way it’s written. See?”
    Jake looked at the ad she held in her hand. Opening soon. Sl’ice. Your Pizza and Ice Cream Perfectorium .
    â€œS-ounds g-ood, don’t you think? I doubt they’ll offer as many pizza toppings as Dad does, but as long as they have butterscotch ripple, we should be okay in the ice-cream department.”
    So that’s what Simon had been talking about. He had called just before Jake went out, mentioning a new pizza place, but Jake had cut him off. He’d been in a hurry.
    â€œWanna go when it opens up?” Simon had asked.
    â€œUmm, I’m pretty busy these days,” Jake had answered. “And I’m pretty careful about what I eat too.”
    â€œOh, okay.”
    Jake would explain to Simon next time he saw him. He sure didn’t feel like pizza or ice cream now. He had a headache, and his knees hurt. “Ah, Mom, I’m going to take a shower and then go to bed, okay?” Jake made his way to the stairs but stopped with his foot on the bottom step. He heard music