Читать книгу The Girl Who Rode the Wind - Stacy Gregg, Stacy Gregg - Страница 8

My brother Johnny glared at the spaghetti on his plate. “C’mon. Are you kidding me?”

“What’s your problem now?” Dad asked.

Johnny poked at it with his fork. “Is that all I get? Where’s the rest of it?”

“It’s enough.” My dad ignored his complaint and carried on dishing up meatballs to the rest of us. “You know the deal. You want to ride track, you gotta watch your diet.”

“I do!” Johnny insisted.

“Sure,” my dad grunted. “So that must be why I saw you at Dunkin’ Donuts on the way home after workouts this morning.”

Vincent gave a hoot of delight. “Busted!”

“Yeah, laugh it up, brother!” Johnny jabbed his fork at him.

I kept cutting into my meatball.

“You’re very quiet this evening, Lola,” Dad said.

“I’m hungry, that’s all,” I said.

I was hoping he wouldn’t ask me about school because if he asked me straight up then I would have to confess that I had been suspended. That note from Mr Azzaretti was still there, glowing out at me like neon from my school bag in the corner of the room.

My dad cast a glance at Nonna, as if she might have an insight as to why I was so silent, but she gave a shrug as if to say she had no idea and so Dad let it drop.

“Loretta.” He cleared his throat. “You remember that Ace of Diamonds filly that Frankie was training last season?”

Nonna nodded. “You mean the bay with the white socks on the hind legs?”

“That’s her,” my dad said. “Well, you always said you thought she had star quality. Frankie thought so too. He sent her off to Lance Barton’s stables in Kentucky and the word is she’s been breaking three-year-old records on the training track there in every single workout.”

“Is she ready to race?” Nonna asked.

My dad nodded. “This Thursday at Churchill Downs is her maiden. Frankie’s told me on the down-low that she’s a sure bet to win it. And the odds, Loretta.” My dad’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “She’s paying out at seventy-three to one.”

Nonna Loretta’s face fell.

“Absolutely not, Raymond!”

“Listen –” my dad began, but he was cut dead by Nonna.

“No, Ray, you listen to me! How many rules do we have in this family?”

There was silence around the table. None of us dared to speak when Nonna was in full flight like this.

“Two rules, Ray!” Nonna sure had a powerful voice for a little old lady. “Two rules that the Campiones live by. We don’t bet on horses and we don’t tell lies.”

I felt myself curl up a little, trying to make myself smaller as she said this.

“But, Loretta!” My dad bounced back. “This horse, she’s a machine. She’s gonna win by ten lengths and nobody will ever see it coming! And seventy-three to one! Maybe even more. The bookies will –”

“The bookies will take your money because that’s what bookies do,” Nonna Loretta said stonily.

My dad took a deep breath. “I’m telling you …”

“No, Ray,” Nonna said. “I’m telling you. The racing business is how we make our money, but betting on races is different. That’s a sure-fire way of losing the lot. We’ve made it this far without betting on horses, haven’t we?”

My dad sighed. “All right, all right. I thought, just this once …”

Nonna’s scowl deepened.

“OK,” Dad said. “I get it. No betting, period. OK?”

“Aww, c’mon,” Donna groaned. “Can’t he place just a little bet, Nonna? There are these new high heels that are on sale right now at Macy’s that I would love …”

Donna saw the look on Nonna Loretta’s face and shut her mouth real quick.

I didn’t say a word. I was just glad that the whole argument had taken the attention away from me and while they’d all been talking, I’d been busy cleaning my plate.

“May I be excused, please?” I asked.

“You’ve finished already?” Nonna raised an eyebrow.

“Sure, Lola,” Dad said. “Have you got homework tonight?”

“No,” I said truthfully. “No, I don’t.”

As I left the table I heard Nonna Loretta ask my dad, “So that filly Frankie tipped you off on. What’s her racing name?”

“Aces High,” my dad replied.

It was a good name, I thought. I don’t know much about playing poker but I’m pretty sure that aces high usually wins.

The next morning I said goodbye to Nonna and started walking to school. I took the usual cut-through at Sutter Street, clambering through the fence into the park. And that was where I stopped. I sat there on the swing set, rocking back and forth and thinking about what to do.

I had never told a lie like this before. The problem was, I had left it too long now to come clean and had made it worse. I got down off the swings and sat inside the playground’s plastic crawly tunnel for a bit, worried that I would get seen by someone if I stayed out in the open for too long. Then I realised I was acting ridiculous. I couldn’t turn up here every day and hide in a plastic tube. I had to tell the truth. I had to go and talk to Dad.

It was almost ten o’clock by the time I reached the track. Dad would have finished working the last of the horses by now. He would be back in his office doing the paperwork.

Dad called it an office, but really it was just a loose box like the ones the horses used, except with a desk and a filing cabinet in it, instead of straw on the floor.

I was walking past the stalls when I heard the sound of hoof beats behind me.

“Hey, Lola!”

It was Johnny and Vincent. They had just finished a workout; both their horses were sweating and blowing.

“I’ve got to see Dad,” I said, ignoring them and walking towards the office.

“I wouldn’t go in if I were you,” Vincent said.

I kept walking.

“Mr Azzaretti is in there.”

I turned around. “Are you serious?”

“What’s going on, Lola?” Johnny asked. “It must be pretty bad if old man Azzaretti is making house calls.”

Johnny and Vincent were always in trouble at school, but never once had they been in enough trouble for Mr Azzaretti to turn up at our place. That achievement was mine alone.

“Maybe you should go home, Lola?” Johnny looked worried. “We’ll tell Dad you were —”

As he said this, the door to the office opened and Dad walked out, with Mr Azzaretti beside him.

Mr Azzaretti looked relieved to see me. “Well, at least we don’t have to file a missing persons report,” he said.

Dad, on the other hand, looked furious. “Do you know the trouble you’ve put Mr Azzaretti to? He came all this way down to see me, taking time out of his day because he wanted to know how you were doing and why I hadn’t contacted the school about your suspension. So I say ‘What suspension? My Lola’s at school right now’ –”

“Dad,” I broke in. “I’m sorry. I know I should have said something sooner, but I was coming to tell you now.”

“Anyway,” Mr Azzaretti said. “I don’t see any reason to involve the school further now that you’ve turned up. It’s family business as far as I’m concerned.” He turned to my dad. “I’ll leave this with you, Ray.”

My dad shook his hand. “Thanks, Arlo, you know how much I appreciate you coming by.”

“She’s a good kid, Ray,” Mr Azzaretti said, as if I wasn’t standing right there. “The brightest in her year. I hate to see her mess it up, that’s all.”

He gave me a very stern look as he said this, and then he turned and walked away. No one said anything and the only sound was Mr Azzaretti’s shoes in the corridor until he was gone.

“Get in the car, Lola,” my dad said. “We’re going home.”

I was prepared for Dad to tear strips off me. What I wasn’t able to handle was the silent treatment. All the way home he said nothing. It wasn’t until we were getting out of the car that he spoke to me.

“Why did you do it, Lola?”

“Because he was bullying me,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. I hated crying. I never cried. “He was teasing me and he wouldn’t stop, no matter what, and then he started going on about my shoes and they were the ones that Nonna bought me and I just couldn’t stand it any more and I hit him.”

“You should have told me about it,” my dad said. “You know how lucky we are that his parents aren’t pressing charges?”

“I’m sorry.” I was sobbing now. I thought he was gonna be furious, but he just put his arm around me and gave me a hug.

“My girl can throw some punch, huh?” He ruffled my hair. “That Mayo kid won’t mess with you again, I bet.”

When Johnny and Vincent found out, they both thought it was hilarious. At dinner, they started calling me “slugger”. Like “Hey, slugger, can you pass the salt?” “Hey, slugger, want some mashed potato?”

“Enough! This is not a laughing matter,” Dad warned them.

“Why aren’t you punishing her?” Donna said, glaring at me. “She’s always getting away with stuff.”

“I got suspended!” I shot back at her.

Nonna gave me a pat on the hand. “Lola was only defending herself,” she said. “You take on a Campione and that’s what you get. That boy is lucky I don’t go around to his house and break his nose for him again!”

I was suspended for the rest of term, which was another three weeks and then it was Summer Vacation – almost three months without school! Dad had tried to talk Mr Azzaretti into letting me back sooner, and he would have allowed it, but he said the school board made the rules and there was no way around it. I would have to stay home and be sent homework assignments and class work so that I didn’t slip behind.

“If I do my school work in the afternoons can I come to the track with you in the mornings?” I asked Dad. “I can help Fernando and I could even work some of the horses.”

Dad shook his head. “You’re not riding track, Lola, that’s final.”

I was going to tell him that I’d breezed Ginger the other day, but I wasn’t sure whether this would convince him to let me ride, or get me into more trouble. As it turned out, I didn’t need to argue because Nonna stepped up to take my side.

“You should let her ride, Ray,” she said gently. “Lola is a good rider, she’s ready for it. Besides, what else is she going to do? Sit around the house all day?”

“She can stay home and hit the books, that’s what she can do,” my dad replied. “You don’t become a doctor by racing horses around a track.”

“I don’t want to be a doctor,” I mumbled.

My dad looked hard at me. “Lola, you know what Mr Azzaretti told me? He said you’re the brightest kid in his whole school and if you maintain your grade point average like it is now, you would have the choice of any college you want. You could be a doctor or a lawyer or an astronaut, or the President of the United States, but the one thing you’re not going to be is a jockey. Do you understand me?”

“I didn’t realise being bright would get me punishment,” I said.

“That’s a lot of backchat for a girl who just got suspended,” my dad replied. And I knew I had pushed him too far.

There was no point in getting up early the next day, but I was out of bed by six anyway, and I had all my study done by midday. There was nothing else to do except watch TV. Our TV room had a big overstuffed sofa and I was curled up on it watching a reality show on repeat when Nonna came in.

“Where’s the remote?” She began hunting under the magazines on the coffee table. She looked anxious, which was unlike her.

“Here, Nonna.” I had it under my cushion.

She took it from me and switched the TV to the racing channel.

“Race six at Churchill Downs,” the commentator was saying. “The three-year-old maiden stakes. And the horses are heading into the start gates now …”

“There she is.” Nonna nodded at the screen. “Number four in the yellow and green silks. What do you think, Lola?”

I looked at the horse with the number four on her saddle blanket. She was a big bay with two white hind socks.

“That’s Aces High?” I asked. “The horse that you wouldn’t let Dad bet on?”

“That’s her,” Nonna confirmed.

I looked hard at the TV screen.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s hard to tell without seeing her in real life.”

“That’s right,” Nonna said. “You’ve got to be able to look them in the eye, Loretta.”

She had called me by my full name – Loretta – which she never usually did. I had been named after her, but most of the time everyone in the house called me Lola to avoid confusion. I figured it was because Nonna was so busy focusing on the horses, she wasn’t thinking straight.

“I’ve seen this filly up close when she was stabled here at Aqueduct and she is very special,” Nonna told me, staring at the TV. “When she steps out onto the track you cannot take your eyes off her. She’s got perfect conformation. The best I’ve ever seen. And powerful too for such a young horse …”

The commentator had been reeling off facts and figures about the horses in the field and now I heard him say the filly’s name. “Aces High is going into the start gates now. She’s a well-bred filly who got started at Frankie Di Marco’s stables in Ozone Park, New York before she was brought here to Kentucky …”

“Look at the muscle!” Nonna Loretta said. “Lance must have been doing hillwork to build up her hindquarters. She’s even better than I remember her.”

I wondered why Nonna Loretta cared so much. After all, she’d told Dad point-blank that he couldn’t bet on the filly.

“They’re off!” The commentator’s voice barked out from the TV as the barriers opened. Suddenly I felt sick with nerves, although I didn’t quite know why.

“Andare! Aces High!” Nonna shouted. “Andare! Andare!”

She was still yelling at the TV in Italian as the horses swept around the first furlong marker. I could see Aces High halfway up in the pack, pinned in by the railings.

“She needs to get out wide so she can make a move,” I said.

Nonna shook her head. “She’s sitting just fine where she is for now. That filly is a stayer. She has a strong finish in her.”

The fourth furlong marker was the halfway point in the race and by then the horses that had taken the early lead were flagging a little, but Aces High looked like she was cruising along. She was still boxed in by the railing though, and now Nonna looked worried.

“What is that ragazzo on her back doing?” Nonna was clasping her hands together anxiously. “He needs to move now! Andare!”

And then it happened. It was as if the jockey had heard my nonna’s instructions through the television because suddenly he made his move. Not to the outside as I expected, but closer to the rail. A gap opened up there and he saw it and took his chance. With a quick wave of his whip near the filly’s face just to show her it was time to go, he asked her to step up the pace and she responded instantly, surging forward. She was so quick to accelerate that if you didn’t have your eyes on her you would have missed the moment. I saw the flash of brilliance as she lengthened out and began to move and with three quick strides she had slipped through the hole and was powering ahead of the two horses who’d had her boxed-in just moments before. Then she had overtaken them both and was in the clear. There were only three horses in front of her now and three furlongs to go.

“Go, Aces High!” I was screaming at the TV. “Go!”

It was like those other horses were standing still, the way her strides ate up the ground between them, closing the gap, passing the horse in front of her and then the next one until there was just one horse ahead of her coming into the home straight.

“You can do it!” My nonna had her hands clasped together as if she was praying. I was jumping up and down like crazy. “Go! Go! Go!”

“Look at this filly coming up the inside!” the commentator was shouting. “She’s taking it all the way home! Aces High has taken the lead and at the finish post it is Aces High by a full length! Aces High wins the Maiden!”

Nonna Loretta fell strangely silent. She was still staring at the screen.

I heard the front door slam. And then Dad entered the room. His face was flushed with anger. He saw the TV screen.

“You were watching that?” he asked Nonna. He looked like he was going to burst a vein in his forehead. “I heard the whole thing on the car radio. I told you, Loretta! I told you! She won the race just like I said she would! If it weren’t for you …”

“If it wasn’t for me,” Nonna finished his sentence for him, “then we wouldn’t have just won seventy-three thousand dollars.”

Dad was stunned. “What are you talking about?”

On the TV screen Aces High was being led into the winner’s enclosure and a wreath of roses was being draped around her neck. Nonna couldn’t take her eyes off her. “I bet on the horse,” she said. “One thousand dollars at seventy-three to one.”

“You did what?” My dad was confused. “Where did you get a thousand dollars?”

“I pawned the jewellery,” Nonna said, still staring at the TV. “My rings …”

My dad looked at her in total disbelief. “You told me that I couldn’t bet. You said it was the rules …”

“Oh, Raymond,” Nonna said calmly. “Those rules are for you – not for me!”

She ignored his speechless wonder and turned to me.

“Lola,” she said. “I was wondering … since you have no school right now, how would you like to take a trip with me next week?”

“A trip, Nonna?” I said. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going home,” she said.

“Home?”

“Yes.” She had a look in her eye like a kid gets at Christmas time.

“Home to Italy.”