The Gambler

Super Bowl XXXii was Denver versus Green Bay, and my Baldwinville Elementary classroom was abuzz with talk of who would win the game. 

I was the shy new kid with glasses, making me a 90s sitcom of cliches. I did, however, like football, and so did the cutest boy in my class. He sat near me in most classes- thank you alphabetized seating- and when he included me in the Super Bowl conversation, I was thrilled.

"Who do you thinks gonna win?"

Swoon! Score! The hot kids talking to me!!

"I think Green Bay."

"No way! Denver will!"

"Nah, I don't think so, no chance."

"Wanna bet?"

"Yeah, let's bet!"

He looked surprised but smiled, and we shook hands. 

"You're on," I declared, making a mental note never to wash my hand ever again. 



That Sunday night, I sat down to watch the game, but my dad, in charge of the remote, wasn't that interested since the Patriots weren't playing. He tuned in now and then, and I'd eagerly eye the score. I felt optimistic since it was a close game, but when Davis got what would be the winning TD for Denver, I felt all the blood drain from my face.

"Dad...I, uh, bet on the game. With a kid in my class!" I blurted out.

My dad looked pissed,

"How much!?"

"Twenty-five cents," I whispered, ready to cry. 

My dad laughed and told me to take a quarter from the change jar.



When I went to pay the hottie on Monday morning, he smiled again and said,

"Thanks, but you keep it. Told ya the Broncos would win!"

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