I shrugged, squinting up at him. “It is all based on luck anyway. Why does it matter?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Fine, how much?”
“Perhaps we bet on something less monetary.” I smirked, twirling my parasol between my fingers.
He nodded, thinking about the proposition a moment before speaking. “If your horse wins, I will be indebted to you for a favor. And you will be indebted to me if it loses.”
“And what will a favor be good for?”
“Anything.”
“If I win, I can ask for anything?”
“You’re beginning to worry me now.”
“I’m just making sure I hear the wager with clear ears.” I held my hand out. “Deal.”
He shook my hand firmly. “May your luck be plentiful.”
As the horses finished their warm-ups and the trainers had their last words with the jockeys, the trill of trumpets demanded they begin fitting themselves in the gates. Below the doors were pacing hooves, one thousand pounds wound into these tightly coiled marvels of nature, and pacing shoes from anxious money holes, a gambler’s dance.
Everyone was quiet as the last horse was ebbed into its gate. I leaned on the railing to look, but so was everyone else who stood trackside.
Then, the shriek of a brass bell, and sudden thunder rumbled the entire ground as beasts whipped past us so fast that if I blinked, I’d miss them. I lowered my parasol quickly, dirt kicked up as they passed, smacking against the fabric instead of my face.
Whistling and shouts of encouragement erupted, as if it would feed their horse of choice and bless the wind under its feet. I swore if the rapture came, the crowd would mistake it for a nearby derby and reach for their wallets.
By the second lap, the jockeys were already covered in as much mud as the bottom of my dress. The horses glistened as they whipped by, covered in mud and sweat, frothing at the bits as they lived the most freedom they’d had in their three years of life by far.
The last lap was due. I readied my parasol again, and before I knew it, my fascinator was blown off by the last pass of the herd.
Men on all sides were either exclaiming or throwing their hats. I supposed there would always be more losers than winners, but it was hard to tell from the crowd.
“Shoot, I missed it. Who won?” I mumbled.
Arkady rolled his eyes; he didn’t answer.
“Does this mean my polka-dot pony won?” I twisted the parasol playfully between my fingers, turning my chin up to Arkady. “Sore loser about your debt, now?”
“No,” he mumbled. “Remind me to bet money next time you pick a horse.”
I looped my arm in his, tapping my head on his arm. “Next time, after I cash in that favor.”
He nudged me, but I caught a sly smile.
“What will your favor be, then?” He sighed in defeat.
It was one thing to have a favor, it was another to pick only one.
“France.” I looked up at him. “One day, with all your riches from being the most famous sculptor the world has ever seen, I would like you to bring me back to France. Far away from people, just us.”
“You’re trading a favor for a hypothetical?” He smirked. “I’ll accept it, but I thought you’d ask for something more instantaneous.”
“I could have, but it gives me something to daydream about, don’t you agree?”
“I’ll agree with whatever you like, it’s your favor.” He shook his head, amused by my conjecture.
I closed my eyes among the noise. I thought I didn’t like events, or socializing, orpeople, for that matter. It could be that I just had nevergotten to experience anything with people who were fun. Arkady made everything new, he made adventure fun again, even if I wouldn’t admit it to him.
