She lost. Slider Harvey never lost. Not at baseball, at any rate.
She’d even played a better game than Billy, which was the deal. But her
team lost, and when all was said and done, that was what counted. She would
have to sing on Billy’s request for an entire week. It was positively
mortifying.
Billy wouldn’t let her out of the deal. She didn’t even have to ask. He wasn’t the type to let her back down, but then, she wasn’t the type to try to back down, either. She would sing for him, and sing loudly.
Who cared if any of the cute East Harlem boys were around to hear? Who cared if Bel’s god of good looks, Mess Anthony, were to walk in the room and listen to her screeching? Who cared if that sweet boy Sticks overheard and laughed at her? So her chances over ever finding a boyfriend would be shot. So her reputation would be sealed before she ever even got the chance to prove herself to her new roommates. So she’d be positively miserable. It was her own fault.
Slider knew all along that her team would lose the baseball game, therefore causing her to lose the bet. A band of girls, no matter how tough or how much they hustle, can not out-hit a group of semi-muscular guys. It was simple science. But Slider took the bet anyway, because Billy was mocking her, and she hated that. What did he know about playing a good game? She threw him out twice during the game, and he hadn’t gotten her even once.
She’d danced around the outfield, laughing at him, trying to get him to lose his concentration. It didn’t work. He just ran out there and tackled her to the ground and tickled her until she apologized and he got up. They both ignored the taunting of the other newsies, boys and girls, who thought they liked each other. It didn’t happen like that.
You don’t move into a new house and fall in love with the first boy who lets you steal his dirty socks. He wasn’t even cute…in the conventional sort of way. Not in the Mess Anthony sort of way, or the Cody McGowan sort of way, or even the Sticks O’Leary sort of way. But he wasn’t bad to look at, not at all. In fact, Slider rather liked looking at Billy. Especially when he wasn’t wearing a shirt. And he was awfully comfortable to sleep on. And he was very, very fun to wrestle around on the parlor floor with.
But that still didn’t excuse the fact that she lost. It didn’t matter that she’d played one of the very best games of her life, or that it was the most fun she’d had in ages. It didn’t matter that when she tripped Billy as he rounded second, just so she could watch him fall, he’d looked up at her with the biggest, most amused grin she’d ever seen. It didn’t matter that he’d had just as much fun as she had, because he was going to have even more fun in the next week.
She’d practiced her singing all night, until the other girls threw their pillows at her and yelled at her to stop so they could sleep. She could be a good sport. She could take the ribbing. And she could take as many of Billy’s thimbles and buttons as she could hold in her pockets. After all, she was just one of the guys.
And just what kind of a name was Guillaume, anyway?
Stay tuned! More to come!
