"Nobody Told the Horse..."
...In Which Race Loses More Than His Money.
Manhattan, Spring 1898
"Why do you keep goin' dere, Race? You always lose." Fourteen-year-old Squirt looked at her friend in puzzlement, with honestly no idea how he found losing so much money appealing enough to keep doing it.
Race seemed to fumble for words for a bit, before just shrugging. "It's not sometin' I can really explain, Squirt. I guess you'll just have to see for yourself."
The other newsie caught his meaning and backed up quickly, raising her hands defensively. "No, I'm not dat curious, Race. Besides, I ain't got da money ta spare..."
Nevertheless, Race wouldn't let the matter drop, taking her by the arm and dragging her with him to the racetrack once both their bags were empty of papers. Squirt adamantly refused to spend her own money on something as uncertain as a horse race, so Race split the money he'd intended to use with his friend.
Once he explained the process of betting—as far as how to actually place her bet and pick up her winnings, if there were any—he noticed she was still frowning at the change in her gloved hand. He knew she wasn't comfortable with taking it, as she'd already tried to return it, but even having one more ally in regards to his hobby might keep some of the other boys off of his back.
"But how do you know which horse ta bet on?"
Race tried to launch into a complicated explanation of his system of tips and rumors about the different riders, trainers, and horses, but Squirt interrupted him, her face twisted with a grimace. "So, in other words, you guess."
Before Race could protest e most certainly did not guess, Squirt had wandered up to the window, chosen a name from the list, and placed her bet. The afternoon's contest was on!
[
By the end of the day, neither had phenomenal success, though Squirt did end up with a dollar or so more than she'd started with, faring better than Race, who'd lost every time. Race was more than a little humiliated, and he couldn't deny his relief as Squirt delivered her assessment:
"I still don't see why you like it; it wasn't much fun. I don't think I wanna go back, Race."
Race breathed an internal sigh of relief, but kept from expressing it aloud. "If dat's how you feel, Squirt. Your loss." My gain.
So, yeah. Yet another Squirt-and-Newsie scene. Not my favorite one (that comes later), but honestly a fun little drabble to write, which was pretty much the idea of the early part of this series.
As always, if you saw something you liked, or something you think I can fix/improve on for next time, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!