An assured thing. And so Matty lays the money down in the tray, and the bookie's hands snap it away. Two down and No Regrets up. The crowd at the horse track roars from the bleachers outside, from the bright end of the concrete and metal tunnel, and the woman behind Matty clears her throat.
Feet shift and stick to the dried remnants of pop and beer.
This is it. The air smells of smoke here, smoke and beer mingling in thick Louisiana air. Her horse will win. She has convinced herself of this and does not listen to the thoughts that tell her she might be wrong. She doesn't have to play the role of Little Miss Astronaut anymore, doesn't have to be logical.