Win some-Lose Some

RED BICYCLES

 

On the butcher shop window there is a new sign. I can read almost all of it . 'Red Flyer Bike race Sat. 10 a.m.  Pulaski St. to the corner of Sumpter Ave. 25 cents. See Donnie to enter.' His father, Sam the Butcher,  surely gave him the brown meat wrapping paper for the big sign. Donnie won't take my quarter because my bike is not a Red Flyer. I am really angry. After dinner when it is almost dark outside and the lamplighter is still a block away, I sneak my mom's red lipstick off of her bureau, take it to the sign and run her greasy lipstick over the word 'Flyer'.

 

After breakfast I go to find Donnie to give him my money. He probably hadn't yet seen what I had done to his sign and tells me to leave him alone. 'How many in the race so far?' I ask. He looks a little sad and tells me three. 'Please let me in the race, Donnie. I'll make 4.' With his eyes staring down the street he sees no takers who want to race and shoos me away.  I don't go and instead ask him when he changed his sign. He gets angry and tells me he never changed it and if he catches the kid who did, he'll beat him to a pulp, hang him on a hook in his father's butcher shop. 'Somebody, some girl, used bright red lipstick to ruin my sign. Did you do it, Kathryn?' 'I don't have lipstick yet, Donnie, I'm only 7 ½.' 'Maybe your mom did he,' he suggests. 'Oh, no Donnie, my mom wouldn't ruin her good lipstick on that cheesy butcher paper of yours.' I offer him my quarter, smile, hug him a little when he takes it.

 

Ten bikes are lined up on the butcher's pavement Saturday morning at ten o'clock. Donnie's dad keeps the shop closed on Saturday because it is the day of rest for him and his family. Mr. Feinberg has us each pick a folded piece of paper out of a jar. On each piece is a big red number, one to ten. He has us line up in a row in order of the numbers. When he blows his whistle we are all set and bike as fast as we can down Pulaski to Sumter. Tough on those who get there as the light changes to red.
Eight year old Janet's red hair is full of bobby pins so it won't blow around. She is right in front of me when her front wheel hits the curb and she falls into the gutter. I keep peddling as fast as I can and am now the only girl in the race but not the only person without a Red Flyer. Nick is almost ten and he has a red Concord but, according to Sam the butcher, Nick beats me by two bike lengths. Donnie is disappointed, very upset and angry at himself. He was the one who made up the race and should have won–or so he thinks out loud.

 

Sam helps Janet take her bike home because she has skinned her knee and it is still bleeding a little. We are no longer in order and just go back slowly together. Sam has the prize money ready. He announces the winner, Nick. Nobody is happy, except me. He awarded me second place and gave me my money back plus an extra quarter.

 

I did it. My first race and I made it, came in second and I beat Donnie who still thinks his Red Rider is the best bike in the world.

 

He's wrong.