Newsiesettes – Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Go, GO, GO!" shouted Race at the top of his lungs. He mumbled curse words under his breath as he watched the horse in the fourth lane cross over the finish line. It wouldn't have been so bad if that weren't the horse he'd betted on. Of course, that just happened to be the horse that came in twelfth. Out of twelve. He trudged out of the arena with a look of pure disappointment.

***


As I walked home I wondered about Spot. Why did I keep thinking about him. All of sudden I felt very alone and scared. Sure was very cold to be a summer night. The wind was blowing strong and it seemed to whisper one word: "alone"..."alone". I hated the dark. It wasn't as if I was scared of it, I just couldn't stand it. I'd take bright sunshine over creepy moonlight any day.

Then I heard it. It was the sound of someone walking behind me.

You're hearing things. Ignore it, its not there. There's no one there. Turn around. Turn around and look. You can do it...just tuuuurn arouuund. I did as my head instructed. I slowly turned. No one.

See?

Oh shut up.

I was still turned looking for the sound when I heard it again. Except now it was in front of me. The sound of someone walking came with...someone walking!

Oh God. I prayed, What do I do?!

What do you mean what do you do? You run...really run!

Now is not the time to be arguing with myself! I told myself as I ran as hard as I could.

The guy ran with me. He was a pretty good runner but running from the man this afternoon with Spot had taught me some things about running. Like the pace and how to breathe and stuff. I was prepared. I ran to the Lodging House door and tried to spot the guy who was running after me. I was safe now. It reminded me of when I was little and stayed outside playing tag with my friends. We had many "bases" but it was usually a large oak tree that stood in the middle of our yard. We always ran after each other until we got too tired to run any longer. Then we'd tag "base" and rest for awhile. Until I was eight my mother and father lived in Virginia. Soon my mother and father split up and they both went their separate ways. My mother, of course, stayed with me and we moved to New York until I was 13, the year of her death. My father, on the other hand moved to London, England to become a professor at a school there. I suppose he still lives there, but it doesn't matter. New York is my home.

Now I realize here I was, seven years later tagging base. Here came the man running after me. I gasped and froze. I reached for the doorknob but it was locked.

Why did I have to wait here? Why couldn't I have went inside and then calmed down. Oh God, I'm so stupid. I thought to myself as I screamed and pounded on the door. I looked behind me, still beating on the door and screaming. I saw a flash of gold and silver in the man's pocket. "Oh my God!" I screamed. He has a knife!

No one had woken up or at least came downstairs yet. So I did the first thing that came into my mind. I ran for the man, fists balled and outstretched. I took one long hard blow at the man's stomach.

"Are you outta your mind?" bellowed a very familiar voice from the man who was now doubled over in pain.

"Race?!"

"Who the hell'd you think it was?" he shouted.

"Oh God!!! Race I'm so sorry! Oh, my Lord, I'm so sorry...I am...oh, Race." I rambled, sympathetically.

"It's okay..." He said straightening up.

"Oh, no it is not." I said. I put my arm around his waist and threw his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, I'll help you upstairs."

And I'm sure he didn't need help walking, but I'm also pretty sure he didn't mind it, either.