Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [10]
'What does that mean?'
'That means you're betting that it will win.'
I chew on my lip. 'You mean you can bet that they'll lose?'
Bryce Cole laughs. 'No, you can bet that they'll either win or get a place, or you can bet that they'll get a place, but not win. Then there are quinellas, exactas, or trifectas, but . . . How about you bet win or place? That's anywhere in the top three.'
'Okay,' I say.
'Rightio.' Bryce Cole leaves me on the lawn. As the horses canter towards the starting gates I go back inside. Bryce Cole buys me another drink, and I hear him order a plate of chips for us to share.
Perhaps Sapph will ring me, now that I'm the new outcast. I'm sure she'll have heard it in the corridors. She won't ring me, though. I should have made more of an effort with her after the fundraiser incident. I don't even know why I didn't. I never had a problem with her working. Besides, I bet she would have had the chance to meet lots of cool people at all those A-list parties.
'Why do I even care about any of those girls?' I say out loud. 'Finsbury is so completely over.'
Bryce Cole glances across the table at me, but he doesn't ask. He stares at the television again.
All the blokes move over to the magic spot.
'How do they know to do that?' I ask.
Bryce Cole points to the red scrolling sign above the betting booth. It blinks:
Race 5 <1 minute
Soon they're racing and I lean forward, watching the television with new interest. Jughandles is bellowing again, but Bryce Cole stays in his seat calmly eating his chips.
'Waugh's Pride is well back there. Travlin hugs the rail, and Scouts Honour is beside him. Kara Spear is wider, Luxury Kasten a narrow leader. Great finish coming up, it's Luxury Kasten and Travlin – but Travlin leads them. It's number five, Travlin.'
'We won!' I say, jumping up and down. I'm tugging on Bryce Cole's sleeve. 'We won!'
Bryce Cole is grinning at me. He wanders over to the booth and when he comes back he peeks over his shoulder and then hands me two twenty-dollar notes.
'I won forty bucks?' I ask, slipping it into my uniform pocket.
'You won eighty, but you owed me forty for the first four races.'
'Really? That's fantastic!' I'm smiling so much my face is going to crack. 'How much did you win?'
'About seven hundred,' he says, popping in another chip.
My jaw drops. 'No kidding! How much have you won all up today?'
He shrugs. 'Maybe four thousand.'
Of course, what I didn't ask was how much he'd lost.
4
THE
C-WORD
We're having another garage sale. Declan is sitting on a lawn chair next to me with his hat over his face. The lawn chairs are for sale. I'm under a market umbrella – also for sale.
I had no idea just how much stuff we had until we started putting it out on the lawn for people to pore over. The cupboard in the hallway was packed with things I didn't even know we owned. Mostly bits and pieces Mum bought on sale – linen, kitchen appliances, stationery – all still in their boxes. The kitchen cupboards were full of knick-knacks – scented candles, coasters, vases, jigsaw puzzles, picture frames – the sort of stuff you receive as gifts, but never use, or buy for other people but never get around to giving. Selling that stuff was easy. In fact, after the first garage sale I thought our house was better – lighter, fresher.
Then with the second garage sale I chose stuff that I liked, but probably wouldn't use again. Books that I'd had for ages but hadn't read, equipment for sports I'd attempted and then abandoned, clothes that didn't really suit me, computer games that we don't play any more. Mum put out all the prints she had on the walls, old pots and pans, and our pool toys.
The third one was harder. Mum made me put out all my books, all my bears except for Albert, and all our toys that had been in boxes in the garage.
Mum sold the indoor plants and put out all of her CDs. She'd already sold the stereo on eBay, along with Will's Wii, Dad's squash racquets and our iPods. She can't sell stuff on eBay any more because our ISP has been cancelled.
I miss email,