Raising the Stakes

Chapter 1-

"Awright!" Brooke scooped up her winnings and cheered. She glanced at the boy in front of her and smiled sweetly, "Wanna play again?"

Racetrack looked at the brown-eyed brunette sitting cross- legged across from him in disbelief. "Brooke. I'm outta money. Again."

Brooke shook her head, "Again? Darn. Well, see ya latah, den?"

Race laughed and rolled his eyes, "See ya Brooke!"

~*~*~*~

Brooke stretched, *Dis is da life.* She looked around, then pulled a small bag out from behind her vest. Brooke opened it and dropped the money inside, then closed and hid it again.

She stood up, and walked around the boxes and racetrack, to the other side. She glanced over to where the bookies were finishing for the day. Her father saw her and scowled, jerking his thumb towards the outskirts, towards their home.

Brooke bit her lip, knowing from experience that this was going to be a long night. She made her way around the track and reached her home. The crude shack was falling apart in places, and dust and mud covered the outside. Brooke slipped inside, closing the door and leaning against it, her eyes growing accustomed to the darkness. She cautiously made her way over to the unmade bed in the corner, stepping over pots and bags and trash strewn across the floor.

Glancing furtively about and listening for any outside noises, she reached over the side of her mattress and pulled out a small wooden box, setting it on her bed. She turned one end of it and pulled on another, twisting and turning until the lid popped open and revealed the contents of the box. Handfuls of change filled the bottom of the box, along with a couple of small bills. Several rings, pieces of jewelry, keys, hairclips, and one watch were also mixed in with it. To this collection she added the newly 'earned' coins, then quickly closed the box and placed it back beside her bed.

About half an hour later muffled curses could be heard approaching the shack. Brooke froze, pen clutched in her hand, a detailed list of her gambling successes underneath the tip.

There was a crash outside and she sprang into action. She blew out the candle, put the pen and ink back inside the desk, grabbed the paper and kicked off her shoes. She dove into bed, under the covers, just as the rusty door banged open.

~*~*~*~

Several hours later Brooke lay on her stomach in bed, wincing as she tried to sit up. New red welts had ripped gashes in the back of her shirt, and a black circle framed her eye. She glared in hatred at the other bed in the room, the one her father slept soundly in, not a trace of guilt to disturb his dreams.

She stood up slowly, holding her breath. No pain came from her back and she exhaled in relief. *T'ank you so much.*

She turned to bend down and sucked in her breath sharply, a stinging sensation spreading over her. *Dis is so stupid. I hate dis! Somet'in' bettah give soon.* Brooke's train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

*Will he change? Will he evah change? I've always assumed so, but.it's been foah yeahs. He won't. I can't stay heah.* The idea came to her quickly, surprising in its simplicity. It had always seemed so much more complicated than merely running away. But, the more she thought about it, it wasn't really.

Brooke quickly padded over to the bathroom, pulled off her shirt and cleaned her wounds. She tiptoed back to her bed and got changed into a clean outfit, hat and shoes.

A loud snore filled the room, and Brooke halted for a moment, praying she wouldn't be found. Several seconds later she began working again, grabbing her puzzle box, knapsack, and clothes.

Careful not to be too loud, she opened the door and stopped for a second. Brooke tiptoed back into the room and opened the money jar next to her father's bed. She grabbed a handful of change, *I'll need it moah den you do.* Then she walked out into the night and headed north, to see how far her feet would take her before it grew light.

* * * * * *

Brooke raised her hand tiredly and knocked on the door of the church. If there was one thing she had learned during her life, it was that if you're ever in trouble, the church will give you shelter, food, and clothes for as long as you need them. Or at least as long as you can handle the righteous life and being an upstanding citizen, which did NOT, as Brooke quickly learned, include poker.

The large wooden door creaked open several inches and a nun's head poked out around the corner. She studied the girl standing outside and opened the door all the way. "Come in, child."

Brooke stepped all the way inside and the nun closed the door behind her. "You look freezing, here, let's warm you up."

~*~*~*~*~

Brooke snuggled up under the blanket and buried her head into the small pillow. She was washed, brushed, fed, and warm, and the next few hours were going to be spent sleeping and renewing her strength.

Brooke sank into a deep sleep, her last thought being that her mother was right once again.