Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [16]
I wish someone would tell me what's going on. If they're breaking up for good then I could start getting used to that idea, but this limbo-land really sucks. And also I'm getting pretty mad at my dad, because he should be missing me, shouldn't he? He might be breaking up with Mum, but that doesn't mean he's leaving us too, does it? What did Will and I do wrong?
Bryce Cole teaches me how to place a quinella. I put twenty dollars on Waylayer and Play Nice in a maiden race. He said it was a good one to try because there are only six horses in it.
Soon the other regulars saunter in and take their tables. Jughandles heard me call him Jughandles and now he doesn't like me. He grumbled something about me not being at school and I told him I had chickenpox. He asked me where my spots were, and then we had this moment where he panicked while he waited for me to react as though he'd said something dirty to me. He's one of those jigsaw body-part, eye-flit men.
I can't have chickenpox forever, though. I'll have to ask Declan for a cool disease I could have. Meanwhile I have umbrage up my sleeve if Jughandles gives me grief.
'Set to go. Dedicated started well, but not as well as Waylayer. Roll'em is three away, they turn at the four-fifty. Dedicated has moved up quickly. Waylayer being tackled by Play Nice out wide.'
'Go, you bastards!' I yell.
'Gospel still at the back of the field and La L'Amour before him, Play Nice won't pick it up and Waylayer is money. It's Waylayer and Play Nice, Dedicated and Roll'em. La L'Amour and then Gospel finished at the tail of the field.'
'I won! I won! How much did I win?'
Bryce Cole shrugs. 'Hmm, let me see. Close to four hundred dollars.'
'Wow!' I'm jumping up and down.
He looks around nervously. It occurs to me that none of the others ever give away whether they won or lost. They shout during the race, but never afterwards. Also, the lady in the betting booth is staring at us and frowning.
'Sorry,' I whisper.
'I know it's exciting. Just keep it down, okay?' He walks away to collect our winnings. The betting booth lady has words with him. She's looking over at me. Bryce Cole nods.
When he comes back he's looking at the floor. 'She says I'm not allowed to place any more bets for you.'
'Just one more,' I say. 'Please? Not straight away. I'll wait till I see one that really wants to race.'
'Okay,' he says. 'Just look sad.'
I hang my head and Bryce Cole sends a thumbs-up to the lady in the booth. She scowls.
I wait until race six. I fill in the time trying to teach Bryce Cole a game that my family used to play called Joke Jeopardy, which is where you say the punch line and everyone else has to guess what the joke was. He's hopeless. He just says, 'I give up.' Even with the why-did-the-chicken-cross-the-road ones, which are easy.
I wait almost all afternoon and then, when the betting booth lady is not looking, I scour the book. In race six there's a gelding that has won five out of six races and placed in the other race. A great jockey is riding. He's won over thirty thousand dollars, and he favours the conditions.
Instead of slouching on my stool with my head on the table I head out to watch the parade. My horse looks calm, but alert. He's shiny and fit. All the others look mad, slight, sweaty, or like old nags.
'Bee Shore. That's the one,' I tell Bryce Cole.
'The money's not good,' he murmurs. 'I don't like it, JB.'
'I want to put the whole four hundred on the nose. I have a feeling.' I'm grinning at him, with my best trust me grin.
I take the best spot, where I can see the television and the winning post. If I win I'll get over a thousand dollars. I don't even know where to begin spending it. Actually I do know. I'll get a new mobile phone, because, I mean, seriously! Who doesn't have a mobile phone? It's ridiculous.
'Bee Shore runs the favourite. They're away