The F.I.T. Files: Mind Games

By Sue Comeau

Our favorite teenage life coach is back, but this time he's got his own problems.

Finn loves tennis, but when he plays at his first major tennis tournament, he freezes. Not only is he super mortified, he feels like he's disappointing everyone. Maybe he's not that good after all...?!

Meanwhile, the rest of his gang is also stressed:

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan M Comeau Stender
• Release date: Dec 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9780995994829

Sue Comeau

Sue Comeau has been interested in attainable wellness and fitness since her days as a kinesiology student at Dalhousie University. Working in youth leadership through the YMCA and local Y Camp as a teenager, she started working and playing with kids early on. At Dal, Sue ran varsity cross country and middle distance track, competing in several national championships with Tigers teams, as well as with the Nova Scotia Canada Games team. She coached junior track with the Halifax Wanderers Track Club, and the Nova Scotia Legion team, as well as working as a student trainer, while doing her degree. After graduation, she became a Certified Pedorthist. Sue earned her Masters in exercise physiology from The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She's a Certified Exercise Physiologist with the Canadian Society for Exercise Physiology. Sue has taught wellness, exercise prescription, and program design in Dalhousie University's School of Health and Human Performance, as a lecturer. Sue got the writing bug in North Carolina, writing screenplays - with one of her scripts becoming a finalist in the Beverly Hills Film Fest. Not one to leave a favorite genre untouched, she also wrote a classic 'chick lit' book with Kathy-Lynn Lee and Camille Bonnell (both Dal alum) called 'The Becky Rules'. She's also written for several national magazines such as Canadian Living, IDEA Personal Trainer, and Canadian Running, as well as online magazines. After years of writing on health and fitness, and writing fiction, Sue combined the two with The F.I.T. Files, which uses narrative to promote fitness and healthy living for kids. While writing about a kid who loves tennis, she got inspired, and now plays as often as she can. Sue lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia with her husband, two kids, and their Labrador retriever (kid #3).

Book preview

Chapter One

I was meeting Chris by the big oak tree after school.

As I got closer, I saw her kicking the ball into the nearby fence. It was bouncing off and right back to her.

Chris is one of my best friends. She’s fun and cool, and an amazing soccer player.

Even still, this was impressive.

Hey, stop beating up that fence, I called.

She paused for a second, then kicked it up in the air a couple of times and caught it on her foot.

Chris is also one of the most positive people I know. She’s always upbeat.

I stink, she stated, kicking the ball to me.

(Or should I say, usually upbeat.)

I was about to say something witty like, Only a little, but it was a fast ball. So instead, I leapt to the side, half-yelling, Aaahh!!

As I hit the ground, I looked up at Chris. She was just standing there.

Any other time, she would have said sorry for nearly taking me out. Or at least she would have laughed.

I grabbed the ball and laid on the ground, hugging it.

Instead of attacking me to get it back as usual, Chris just flopped down beside me.

What’s up your butt today? I asked.

I know. Not my most compassionate way of asking what was wrong.

Chris muttered back something that sounded like ‘heh meh’. (Obviously not what she was trying to say.) Then she just laid there, looking up at the sky.

I sat up and put the ball on her stomach. It rolled off.

I rolled it over her.

Nothing.

I nudged (okay, poked) her.

Her hand flicked up and punched me in the guts.

Now we were getting somewhere.

Come on, Chris, snap out of it, I coached. What’s up?

She sat up. Nothing. Except that I suck, she said flatly.

I thought you said you stink, I quipped.

She groaned.

Off my head tilt and raised eyebrows, she sighed and spilled it.

I’m going to be lucky to make starter in soccer this year, Chris said. Everyone’s way better than me.

Yeah, right, I laughed. Who’s on your team, Alex Morgan? (She’s a really good pro soccer player.)

Haha, she said half-heartedly.

Chris, you crack me up, I started. You always say how brutal you’re playing, and then you’re MVP of, like, everything.

Not this year, Chris said, rolling the ball toward me. It’ll be Jasmine.

I sat up straigher. Mae’s friend? I thought she plays basketball.

Chris rolled her eyes. Oh, she’s great at everything, she drawled, soaked with sarcasm.

Just then, Xavier and Tom came walking up. We’ve been friends forever… or at least since I moved here to North Carolina from Canada when I was little.

Hey guys, I called. They waved and came over.

What’s up, y’all? Xavier greeted us.

Chris managed a saggy half wave.

You okay, Chris? Tom asked, kind of bending down to check on her.

No, she said.

Xav turned to me. Did she get hit with the ball or something?

Chris thinks she’s not playing well, I told the guys, as she continued to lay there.

Playing what? Xav asked, as the guys flopped down on the grass with us.

Soccer, I told them.

They both cracked up, laughing.

Then Xavier said, Oh yeah, I was talking to Jasmine this afternoon, and she said she made the team.

Oh goodie, Chris said, under her breath.

Wow. Chris was stressed.

Chapter Two

Let’s change the subject, Chris said, pulling herself together.

She focused on Xavier. Xav had just gotten amazing news: He’s been selected for an elite national basketball camp. Like, super elite.

Speaking of stressed, it took only three words for Xavier to get riled up.

Ready for camp?

Xavier’s eyes got wide for a second. Then he did the thing he always does when he’s stressed.

He started dribbling his basketball.

So, you’d think that you can’t really dribble a basketball on grass. Or while sitting.

You haven’t seen Xav riled up.

Luckily the thump-thump-thump was muffled by the ground.

What’s up with you? I asked Xavier, while Tom tried to give me a ‘cut it’ signal, swiping his hand in front of his throat while shaking his head.

Nothing’s up, Xav shot back swiftly. Why? Should something be up?!

And again, one of my friends who’s usually got it all together was turning into a blob of nerves.

Xavier is like a dormant volcano. You know there’s a lot of fire in there, but you don’t usually see it.

No reason, I answered Xav. You just seem a little, uh, I stammered.

Yeah? What? Xav cut in.

Uh, stressed? I finished, as Tom gave me the ‘wild eyes, fast chop’ combo.

Xavier laughed and exhaled at the same time, sounding surprisingly like a horse.

Me? I’m not stressed. Why would I be stressed?!

I cut to the chase. You’re gonna be great at the camp, Xav.

Yeah, you’re totally gonna impress them, Tom added.

At this point, Chris, who had snapped out of her own little funk, was sitting with her soccer ball, looking intrigued at Xav’s little meltdown.

In an apparent effort to be helpful, she changed the subject… to a subject I usually love.

Lately though, Tom’s and my coaches have been encouraging us to play some tennis tournaments.

Speaking of high performance, she said to Tom and I. Are you guys ready for your first tournament?

Uh, I started.

Meh, Tom added, shrugging a couple of times.

Chris and Xavier just looked at us as I stuttered through a series of random words. Uh, I don’t know, yeah well, no biggie, phfft, you know, I mean, what?!

Meanwhile, Tom blabbered, Play, compete, win, lose, who cares, whatever!

Tom and I stopped and stared at each other.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris and Xav exchange a look.

Wow, she muttered.

Yep, we were all a mess.

Chapter Three

The only one of my friends who wasn’t freaking out over something was my other best friend, Charlie.

After having a rough time with his weight a while ago, and then trying a bunch of new sports and activities, Charlie had discovered a few things he really likes doing.

His new number one activity is dance. Plus he’s acting in a play. He’s super happy these days.

Later on, as I was walking into our back door, he texted me:

Hey mate.

Mom had left her music on, and Ralph, my black Lab, hadn’t accosted me. Fiona, my semi-cute, semi-annoying little sister had dance today.

I shoved my backpack in my cubby and flopped into the comfy chair that’s in our kitchen.

I texted back in my usual eloquent way:

SUP

Charlie’s the only 13 year old guy I know who mocks texting abbreviations. Even though he uses them.

Stand up paddleboard?

See what I mean?

Sorry, my good man. What is happening in your daily life this fine afternoon?

Touché.

Touché?

I texted back: Huh?

He texted back: Good one. Fencing term.

I looked it up in my dictionary app. Oh yeah, it’s actually when you hit or touch your opponent in fencing. And it’s kind of morphed into meaning, ‘you got me’ or ‘good comeback’.

Gotta add that one to my vocabulary.

I thought I heard a noise from upstairs. I perked my ears up for a second. Nope, nothing.

You home? Charlie followed up.

Yep.

I looked around for a note from Mom, mainly to see where Ralph was. (Everyone else can take care of themselves!)

Mom is a stickler for us all communicating where we are, but she doesn’t always text. Sometimes she goes the old-fashioned route with pen and paper.

I heard another noise. I turned the music down and just listened. Just another text from Charlie.

May I?

Yeah, come on over.

I opened a couple of cupboards. Hmm, I had the usual after school munchies, but wasn’t sure what I felt like.

I opened the fridge and had a nice leisurely scan of the snack options. Hmm, some kiwis, yogurt, cheese…

All of a sudden, I heard a bang and a weird, raspy hiss. I just about jumped out of my socks as something rushed toward me!

I yelled, Yaaiiiyy! and I jumped back, using the fridge door as a shield. My heart rate skyrocketed as adrenaline shot through my body!

Then I saw what the ‘danger’ was:

It was Fiona, my little sister, armed with a tennis racquet in one hand and a ballet slipper in the other.

I caught my breath. Holy crap, she actually scared me.

Her eyes were wild, as she caught her breath too.

What the heck, Fi! I leaned against the counter.

You scared the crap out of me, she reprimanded in a whisper. She was still holding up the racquet and the ballet shoe.

Me? You? I was still breathing fast.

I closed the fridge door.

Where are Mom and Ralph? I interrogated.

Out for a walk with her friends, Fi whispered.

Why’re you whispering? I asked, my heart rate slowing down.

Fi gave me her classic ‘you’re a doofus’ look. I lost my voice, she whispered.

What? How?

Haven’t you noticed I’ve been feeling gross with a cold and cough all week?

Uh, I guess. I thought it was just you being salty, I replied gamely, opening the fridge door as a shield again as Fi held up the racquet and ballet shoe menacingly.

And, um, what if I had been a burglar, I added. What were you gonna do, volley and plié on the guy?

She looked at her ‘weapons’ as I laughed at my joke. She started laughing too, despite trying to look serious.

Then she jabbed me in the guts with the ballet shoe.

Ow, Fi! It was a pointe shoe, for when dancers are up on their toes. Those things have wood or something hard in the actual toe, to keep them stiff.

You have to be really good to be able to use them, and, I wouldn’t tell her this, but Fiona is a crazy talented dancer.

Yeah, plié on that, baby, Fi quipped quietly.

Just FYI, I told her, it’s impossible to sound tough when you say the word ‘plié’.

I grabbed the shoe and held it up defensively, as Fiona held up the tennis racquet in both hands.

We both started laughing again.

Then she started coughing.

Chapter Four

Just then, Charlie knocked, opened the back door and came on into the kitchen.

Fi was half bent over, hacking away, holding the racquet up like she was going to volley something (namely my head). I had the ballet shoe, ready to defend myself.

Without looking over, I greeted him casually. Hey Charlie.

Hey Charlie, Fi followed between coughs, without taking her eyes off me.

Charlie put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the counter casually while Fi barked out a few more coughs.

Are you quite all right, Fiona? he asked.

I stood up straight from my semi-crouched position, put down the ballet shoe and went to the cupboard to get a glass. Fi lowered the racquet and slumped into a chair.

I ran some water and handed it to Fi. She took a sip and her cough seemed to quiet down. I patted her back.

Thanks, she said, looking tired. She probably used up all her adrenaline. She laid her head on the table.

Charlie sat at the table too. That’s what I love about your house, guys, he said. Always some tomfoolery going on.

Huh? Fi whispered without lifting her head.

You know, silliness, Charlie replied.

Charlie got up and opened one of the cupboards. The best thing for a cough is a little honey, he said.

He grabbed a little jar.

Don’t just sit there, Finn, make some tea for your poor sister, Charlie reprimanded. Then to Fi, Will you have a little tea with honey, Fiona?

She nodded. She did look a little pale.

I got up, suddenly feeling bad, and put the kettle on.

Yeah, of course, if it’ll help, I said to Charlie. Sorry Fi, I didn’t realize you were feeling so bad.

Good God, man, how could you not notice? She sounds like a sick bullfrog, Charlie said, putting his hand on her shoulder. No offence Fiona.

She waved the comment off, smiling despite herself.

What kind of tea, Feefs, I asked.

Chamomile would be quite soothing, he told her. She nodded. Then, as if I was a waiter, he followed with, Make some for me also, would you, mate?

He sat down at the table, leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.

I stopped with the tea bag in my hand. Really?

You’re making it anyway, he shrugged. On another note, are you thinking of doing more ballet? He pointed at the little pink ballet shoe I was still holding. Think that one’s a tad small.

(A while ago, we had joined Xavier and his basketball team in a mandatory ballet class. It was initially embarrassing, then tough, and ultimately pretty enlightening and helpful.)

Fiona snickered, then started another little coughing fit. She took another sip of water.

Fiona thought I was a burglar, so she came down to attack me with her ballet shoe and tennis racquet, I informed Charlie.

He raised his eyebrows. One whack with a toe shoe would hurt like the dickens.

The kettle boiled and I put some hot water in the teapot. Not a lot of my friends here even have a teapot. Here in North Carolina, the big thing is sweet tea: nice, cold iced tea. If you ask for tea here, that’s generally what you’ll get. Since Charlie’s British (and tea is BIG over there) and I’m half Canadian, this is what we call tea. Here, they’d call this ‘hot tea’. (It throws off all my Canadian relatives!)

I brought over a mug for Fiona and one for Charlie. I grabbed some water for me with a slice of lime.

Charlie got up to grab a couple of spoons. He gave Fi one of them, and the jar of honey.

Thanks Charlie, she rasped. She put some honey in and stirred. How’s dance going?

He lit up. It’s fantastic!

Just jazz? she asked as she took a sip.

Jazz and ballroom for now, he answered.

You’re not going to be doing ‘jazz hands’ all over the place now are you? I joked, putting both hands up and waving them.

They both looked at me blankly.

Oh these neophytes in the fine arts, Fiona, Charlie said grandly.

Hey man, I came back. I’ve done ballet.

They both started laughing – way too hard.

Chapter Five

A few minutes later, Fi went into our TV room, to curl up in a blanket and chill.

I guess she really wasn’t feeling great if she didn’t want to stick around and try to get some gossip.

Fiona’s actually a cool little sister, and we’re pretty close.

But she does get a little annoying when she wants to hang out with me and my friends, particularly Tom, who she has a massive crush on.

All my friends really like Fi. Charlie considers her an honorary little sister. And to Chris, who has two older brothers and all guy cousins, she’s like the sister she never had.

The other thing with Fi is that she can get information from anyone. When our friend (and Dad’s old college pal) Davis brought his girlfriend Rachel over for the first time, Fi knew everything about her within ten minutes.

I heard Fiona turn the TV on.

What’s happening with Fiona? Charlie asked, taking a sip of his tea.

What do you mean? She has a cold, I said.

She seems a little down, he remarked.

Yeah, probably because she has a cold, I countered.

He took another sip and sat back. Perhaps.

I cocked my head to the side.

Just then, the other family member who cocks his head when he questions something – Ralph – came barging through the door.

Mom was right behind him.

Honestly Ralph, could you not wait until I got your leash unhooked? What has gotten into you?

(It cracks me up how Mom talks to Ralph as if he can understand her and talk right back.)

As Mom walked in, Ralph was already slobbering over Charlie and me.

Hey guys!

Hey Mom, I said casually. How’s it going?

Hello Kate, Charlie one-upped me. Lovely to see you.

Mom lit up. You too, Charlie. She patted his shoulder as she walked by. I haven’t seen you lately.

Full rehearsal schedule, Charlie stated.

Tell us when we can buy tickets for your show, Mom reminded him as he nodded.

She turned to me. How’s Fi doing?

As I opened my mouth…

She’s resting in the den, Kate, Charlie said. She had some tea with honey, but that cough was pretty awful. And she seems not quite herself.

Mom glanced at my raised eyebrows and smiled. Thanks for the update, Charlie.

He waved off the praise.

How’s dance going these days? Mom asked him.

Charlie got up to put his mug in the sink. That was another positive change Charlie had made recently – just moving more, getting up to do things, walking to places, getting up to stretch, and all that.

Oh, it’s brilliant, Kate, he told her, really upbeat. I’m dancing four times a week. And I’m feeling so much fitter, that I’ve actually started doing a few tennis lessons again also.

Mom nodded, impressed. I was impressed too. I stretched in my chair, feeling pretty relaxed.

We should hit the ball around sometime, I told him.

Not that I’ll ever be anywhere near your level, Charlie went on.

I waved that off. It’s just fun to play.

When’s your first tournament of the season, mate? he asked. We’ll all come and cheer you on.

It was like a jolt of electricity hit me in the chest and spread through my body.

That one word – tournament – made me crazy nervous.

Chapter Six

I sat up and scratched my head and my neck.

Mom was trying to look busy in the background.

Peh, I don’t know, I tried to say casually. I scratched my face and then tapped my fingers on my mouth.

Charlie sat back.

What? I said as I scratched my ear.

You’re grooming yourself like a bloody cat, Charlie said, looking amused.

Mom picked up a catalogue and flipped through it as she slowly moseyed out of the room, making sure that we knew she was leaving.

I’ll see you later, Charlie, she said. Finn, just yell if you need me. I’ll be doing work upstairs.

I signalled ‘okay’.

Charlie, the most sophisicated 13 year old I know, said, Lovely to chat, Kate.

Then Charlie looked at me and put his hand up like he was washing an imaginary window. What’s all this?

What, I half-asked, half-stated, scratching my neck.

When I mentioned the tennis tournament, you seem to have developed an allergic reaction. Literally.

I exhaled and kind of flapped my hands. Nah, just, ugh, blah, I don’t feel like talking about tennis, I said coolly.

Okay, number one: Ugh, blah, and all that, what are you even trying to say, he started. And number two, you don’t, and I repeat, don’t want to talk about tennis?

I got up. Haha. Want a snack? I think we have some ice cream around here.

Charlie got up too. Alright, who are you and what did you do to my chum, Finn? he joked.

I opened the freezer.

And ice cream? Not frozen yogurt or frozen tofu or some flavored ice cubes or some such ultra healthy treat, he teased lightly. I’m disappointed.

We do not have flavored ice cubes, Charlie, I replied flatly. I shifted a couple of things in the freezer. No wait, wow, I guess we do.

I closed the freezer and turned to see Charlie standing in front of me like an old school headmaster.

It’s okay to be nervous, Finn, he said kindly.

Who? Me?

Charlie leaned against our little island. Yeah. You.

Me be nervous playing tennis? I said incredulously.

Yes indeed.

I laughed. I think I was trying too hard, because it did sound a little crazy.

Charlie paced casually back and forth, like a professor. Think about it, mate, he led. You’re a great player, and everyone at your club knows it. But you fly a little under the radar. Playing in a tournament is going to put you in the spotlight.

I was nodding as Charlie talked. They say that’s a good skill – it shows you’re listening.

When he finished, I thought about what he said for about a nanosecond.

Then, as I eloquently put it: Nah.

Chapter Seven

Charlie’s a great debater. He’s quick-witted and has a response for everything.

He also doesn’t push a point.

We sat down again, the array of frozen treats forgotten, and changed the subject. We talked for a minute about the last few weeks of school. We were just about at summer break, and everyone was ready. Kind of.

Charlie looked at his watch. I’d better get home.

Hey, so, when you texted, was there anything you needed? I asked.

Oh, right, he said. I wondered if I could take a look at your notes from science. I missed a few minutes at the beginning of class.

Yeah, sure, I said, getting up to haul them out of my