If there was one thing I wanted to be able to do in life, it was to beat my brother at something. All my life he had been there, and all my life he had been beating me. He was even born before me, beat me by a year. But no matter what I tried, he beat me at everything.

He was better at school, better at sport, a better talker, a better singer. I didn’t think there was anything we had done in which he hadn’t beaten me. Take for example the time I challenged him at chess. There was a chess club at school and I had been going to it every lunch time learning how to play. My brother had never really played chess, so I thought this was his turn to lose. One rainy Sunday afternoon I took the chess set out of the cupboard and placed it on the table in front of him.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘It’s a chess set stupid!’ I replied. I figured if I couldn’t beat him, I could at least try and make him feel stupid.

‘I know it’s a chess set,’ he said, ‘I just wondered what you were doing with it.’

‘I was going to play, would you like to challenge me?’

‘No thanks. I don’t like chess.’

‘Are you scared I’ll beat you?’ I teased.

‘You? Beat me! You’ve got to be kidding. Okay, I’ll play.’

I knew that was what he would say. He always said that, making me feel even worse that I’d never beaten him at anything. I wish he hadn’t said it though. After I set all the pieces up, we started to play. He won of course. Checkmate in three moves.

I decided after that to try and beat him at physical activities rather than mind games. But it was hard to find something he wasn’t good at. I tried to think of something out of the ordinary. There was a tree in our back yard. It was a tall eucalypt with a long straight trunk that branched out at the top. I found that if I wrapped my arms and legs around the trunk of the tree, I could climb up all the way to the first branch. I was sure my brother wouldn’t be able to do that. So I took him out into the back yard and showed him what I could do.

‘Is that all you wanted to show me?’ he said, as if my achievement was nothing special.

‘Well, you try it.’ I said confidently.

He grabbed onto the trunk and worked his way up to the first branch. Then he pulled himself up to stand on the branch. He climbed further until he could pick the highest leaf on the tree. Then he slid down to where I was standing and gave me the leaf.

Whenever I did anything good at school, it didn’t matter, because he had already done it the year before. It was no use trying to beat him at sport. He had played nearly every sport possible. His room was full of trophies. He had trophies for cricket, football, basketball. He even had a trophy for getting the most ‘hole in one’s at mini- golf. You name it, he had a trophy for it.

The only important thing I had in my room was an old photo. It was my favourite photo in the whole world. My grandfather had given it to me. He was dead now, and it was the only thing I had left to remind me of him. The photo itself was of a horse race. It was right at the finish of the race when the first two horses were going past the finish post. It was in a wooden frame with a gold border. At the bottom in gold writing it said, ‘Winner - Always a Chance’. That was the horse’s name.

Next to that there were other details, including my grandfather’s name. He was the trainer. Always a Chance was my grandfather’s first winner in a horse race. The first thing he did with the prize money was to frame the photo. It was really precious to him, that’s why it was so special when he gave it to me.

I had been fighting with my brother. He was beating me of course. I was sent to my room and my grandfather came in and talked to me. That’s when he told me about horse racing. ‘When I was younger,’ he said, ‘I used to train racehorses for a living. Now training racehorses isn’t exactly the best way to live. You have to get up before the sun does, every day. You never can be sure if you’re going to have a winner. Chances are there will be a better horse out there somewhere. But it’s always worth a try.

‘Now I had been training horses for quite a while and never once had a winner. I had trained quite a few who came in second or third, heaps of fourths, but never a first. Charlie, this friend of mine, had a horse he was going to get rid of. Now, when I say get rid of, you have to understand I mean he was going to kill this horse. So I said to him, “I’ll take the horse. There’s always a chance.” That ended up being what the horse was called, Always a Chance.

Everyone, even Charlie, thought he was hopeless, would never win a race. But I saw something in that horse. Something special. And that horse became the first winner I ever trained.’

The next day my grandfather brought the photo over and hung it on my wall. I instantly fell in love with the photo. I memorised every detail. There were two horses. Always a Chance was a dark brown horse, and the jockey wore red clothes with yellow hoops. The horse that was in second place was silver-grey and its jockey wore blue. The post they ran past was like a mirror and was circled by a horseshoe. It must have been a sunny day when the race was run, because the sky in the background was blue and there were deep shadows.

The thing that struck me the most about the photo was how real it seemed. It was just as if the photo was a window to real life. There was a divot of dirt that had been thrown up by the horses’ hooves, and it just hung, suspended in mid air. I often imagined myself in the photo. Sometimes I would be standing in the crowd cheering my horse on to victory. Sometimes I would be the horse, puffing and panting past the post. Sometimes I would be the jockey, moving my body with the motion of the horse, urging him on to victory. And sometimes, I was an imaginary beetle sitting on that divot of dirt suspended in mid air.

Whenever I was sent to my room for fighting with my brother, which was quite a lot, I would lie on my bed and look up at the photo. I would escape into the world of the photo. In that world my brother couldn’t beat me. In that world, nobody could beat me. Unfortunately, no matter how I wished, that world was just my imagination. I couldn’t escape into it forever. I guess in the real world I had to accept I was no good. My brother would always beat me.

That didn’t stop me trying though. One thing I knew I was good at was eating. My brother was always talking too much to eat quickly. So after dinner one night I challenged him to an ice-cream eating race. We waited until we were alone in the kitchen and then filled two bowls with ice- cream. And when I say filled, I mean we put as much ice-cream into these bowls as possible. And it wouldn’t have been a proper contest if we didn’t then cover the ice-cream with chocolate topping.

We sat at opposite ends of the table with our hands on our heads. When I said go, we had to grab our spoons and eat until there was none left. I took a deep breath then yelled ‘GO’. We were off and eating like you have never seen before. Spoonful after spoonful were disappearing into our mouths. Splattering topping and ice-cream all over our faces and the table, and the floor, and our clothes. The only thing stopping us eating was the fact that we were laughing so much. I was ahead of him. I could see he was struggling to keep eating the stuff that was freezing his brain as it went into his mouth. I knew, that for the first time in my life I was going to beat him. I only had a few more spoonfuls to gulp down. As soon as I finished all I had to do was yell out...

‘STOP IT!’ yelled my mother from the kitchen door. At the same time we both dropped our spoons and looked up at her blood-red face. The sight before her must have been amazing. Ice-cream and chocolate topping spread everywhere. I think we had missed our mouths more times than we had actually managed to direct the spoon properly. She didn’t even need to say anything more. She was too angry to even make us clean it all up. She just pointed towards our rooms. We didn’t argue, but we both went via the bathroom first. The hand towel in the bathroom became so covered in ice- cream and chocolate topping, it could have passed as a dessert.

My brother was quietly laughing, but I was upset. This was the one time in my life I was going to beat him, and my victory had been cruelly stolen. How could my own mother do that to me. I knew my brother must have organised it. It was his fault. He must have had some secret radio distress signal that he sent out when he was in danger of losing, so mum could come and save him. I flopped down on my bed in tears and looked up at my favourite photo. Even this could not cheer me up. I imagined I was the dirt underneath the horses’ hooves. That was all I felt like, a little insignificant piece of dirt.

I almost wished I was a piece of dirt being trodden on. I could almost feel the horses on top of me. I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look at the photo any more. I just wanted to go to sleep. Have you ever noticed that when you’re upset it’s really hard to go to sleep? Well, it is for me anyway. So I was just lying there with my eyes closed, trying to forget about everything. Suddenly, I felt a pain in my stomach. I thought perhaps it was all that ice-cream and chocolate topping I had eaten. But it didn’t feel like that type of pain. It felt like a punch, or as if something had fallen on top of me. I had a terrible thought. Perhaps the photo had fallen off the wall.

I quickly opened my eyes and looked at the photo. I almost breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it there. But I noticed something was terribly wrong. Instead of there being two horses in the photo, there was only one. A silver-grey horse being ridden by a jockey wearing blue. Somehow, my grandfather’s horse, Always a Chance, had disappeared from the photo. It was just as if somebody had got an eraser and erased horse, jockey and all. The remaining horse was still in second place, but there was no horse in first place.

This was all very confusing. But I let my eyes wander from the photo and down to the end of my bed. Sitting down by my knees, all jumbled up, was a dazed jockey and his horse. I recognised them straight away. I knew what had happened, although I didn’t know how on Earth it had happened. My favourite horse and jockey had somehow fallen out of my favourite photo and landed on my bed.

As I stared at them and they stared at me, I don’t know who was the most surprised, me, the little jockey, or the poor little horse. Now, if you know anything about jockeys, you’ll know that they are quite small. But I don’t think anyone had seen a jockey quite this small before. Both jockey and horse were exactly the same size as they were in the photo. The jockey looked at me and spoke first, which was quite lucky, because I had no idea what to say. ‘What happened?’ he squeaked.

‘I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me,’ I replied, and I was.

‘Well, we were in a race, we were just about to win, then zap, it was as if we were hit by lightning. We were just falling and falling, and then landed here. We were going to win, I just know we were going to win. Bobby was trying so hard. Sorry, this is Bobby. Other’s like to call him Always a Chance , but I just call him Bobby.’

I looked at the fine little horse and it tossed its head as if to say hello to me. At least, I think that’s what it was doing.

‘Hello Bobby,’ I said. I didn’t really know what else to say. But then the little jockey started talking again.

‘It’s just so unfair,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Well, all the time Bobby and I have been racing together, we’ve never come first. We’ve come in second a couple of times, but never first. Bobby’s old owner, he was a guy called Charlie, well, he was going to shoot poor Bobby. But we were given a second chance by another trainer and this was the race in which we were going to prove ourselves.’

‘But you do,’ I said excitedly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You win the race.’

‘I know we were going to win the race. But how can we win it if we’re stuck here,’ he looked around and then added , ‘here in your bedroom?’

He had a good point and I didn’t really have an answer for him. But they had to win the race. It would be terrible if things were different. For starters, I wouldn’t have my favourite photo. I knew there had to be a reason for this strange thing to have happened, although I didn’t quite know what it was. I looked at the little jockey and he was crying. It even looked as if his little horse was crying.

‘Stop crying,’ I said, ‘everything will be okay.’

‘That’s easy for you to say, you don’t know what it’s like to never win,’ he said, Bobby nodding his head in agreement.

‘Yes I do,’ I said defensively, ‘I’m always being beaten by my brother. The one time I came close to beating him was tonight, but then my mum stopped us.’

‘Why did she stop you?’

‘Well, we were having an ice-cream eating race and we were making a bit of a mess. That is why I was sent into my room.’

‘Ice-cream,’ he said, ‘that reminds me how hungry I am. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!’ When he said this, Bobby neighed in protest and knocked him over. ‘I’m sorry Bobby,’ said my jockey friend, ‘it was just a figure of speech.’

We all laughed.

‘You wouldn’t have anything we could eat do you?’

I crept out of my room and took my new friends into the kitchen. I had a jockey riding on one shoulder and a horse on the other. I thought of all the pictures of pirates I had seen with parrots on their shoulders. One of the kids at school had even brought his pet rat to school on his shoulder once. But I don’t think anyone had ever been walking along with a pet horse on his shoulder. This made me feel special.

We got to the kitchen and I gave my jockey friend a piece of cheese. I think it was the biggest piece of cheese he had ever seen in his life. Bobby stomped his hoof on the table to let me know he wanted something too. I thought to myself, ‘I don’t have any hay, what else do horses eat?’. I went to the fruit bowl and got an apple. Have you ever seen an excited horse? That’s what I had when I gave Bobby the apple. Imagine if apples were your favourite food in the whole world and somebody had just given you one almost as big as you were.

Bobby ran over to me and rubbed his head against my little finger to say thankyou. Then he started to gnaw into his apple. After they had eaten as much as they could handle, we went back into my room and talked about what had happened. The jockey spoke first. ‘So you say your brother beats you at everything?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well how about you challenge him to a race?’

‘He’d beat me though, he’s a faster runner.’

‘Do you have a bicycle?’

‘Yeah, but so does he. He’s even got a trophy he won in a bike race once. I appreciate you trying to help me, but it’s no use, I’m a loser.’

‘Don’t say that,’ yelled the jockey sternly at me, ‘just because you haven’t won yet, doesn’t make you a loser. I’ll tell you what. You challenge him to a race tomorrow and I guarantee you’ll win.’

I was too tired to argue, so I just said ‘okay’ and went to sleep. I dreamt of horses racing around a track, then just as they came to the finish line, my brother was standing there throwing ice-cream and chocolate topping at them. I couldn’t work out whether it was a scary dream or a funny one. I woke up in the morning and looked straight up at the photo. Maybe it had all been a dream. But it was the same as the night before, and the only place the horse and jockey were to be found was cuddled up next to me on the bed.

As soon as they saw my eyes open, the jockey spoke to me. ‘Bobby needs to go outside.’

‘Why?’ I asked, still half asleep.

‘Well, he did eat a lot of apple last night.’

I knew what he was saying instantly and jumped out of bed and opened the window. I lowered Bobby into the garden and let him go about his business. After I did this, my jockey friend was jumping up and down on my bed excitedly.

‘Why are you excited?’ I asked.

‘The race, the race,’ he replied.

It was a Saturday morning. I usually went for a ride on my bike on Saturdays anyway, so I thought I might as well challenge my brother to a race. I found him finishing his cereal.

‘Hey, would you like to lose to me in a bike race today?’ I asked cheerfully.

He laughed. ‘Lose to you? What are you going to do, let down my tires?’

‘No, I just think I can beat you today.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘A little friend told me so,’ I almost laughed. Well, it was the truth, wasn’t it!

‘No, I don’t think so. I’ve beaten you so many times before that it’s no challenge any more.’

‘What if we make it a bet?’ I almost pleaded. He seemed more interested.

‘Okay, what’s in it for me?’ he inquired.

‘If you win, I’ll give you the only thing I have worth giving, my favourite photo.’

‘The one of grandfather’s horse race?’ he asked, trying to hide his enthusiasm.

‘Yes. But if I win, you’ve got to do all my chores for the next month. Plus, you’ve got to sign a certificate saying that I beat you.’

We shook on the deal and then talked about the course. It wasn’t that hard to figure out where we could race. Our house was right near a bike track. We just had to figure out where to start and where to finish. Once we had worked out all the details, we had an hour to get our bikes ready for the race. I went and checked my tires, pumped them up a bit. Then I went into my bedroom where my jockey friend talked to me about the race. I was really nervous about the race. More so than usual. I realised that I had bet my most prized possession on a race I probably had no chance of winning.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said to me, ‘there’s always a chance.’

It was almost race time and I turned to leave. ‘Wish me luck,’ I said.

‘I don’t need to,’ was the reply, ‘I’m coming with you.’

He made me put a shirt on and jumped into the top pocket. I knew I would be more comfortable in a tee-shirt, but he was the boss. I walked out to meet my brother. We were ready to start the race. The place we decided to both start and finish the race was only about a hundred metres from our house. Just as we were about to walk there, my brother ran back in and said something to mum.

‘What did you say?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I just told her to be ready with a camera when we return, so she can get a photo of me beating you,’ he said cheekily.

Without any more delays we were ready to start. Since it was my challenge to him, he let me say go. ‘Ready, set, go!’ I yelled and we were off. The first part of the course was a long straight stretch. I was in front of him and going strong. I was full of energy and ready to win. To my surprise, my jockey friend jumped out of my pocket and made his way up to sit on my shoulder. I guess he really was my jockey. But a greater surprise was what he said.

‘Ease off a bit,’ he whispered gently in my ear, ‘ease off a bit.’

So I stopped pedalling so fast and soon my brother raced past me. I didn’t think that was such a great idea. I was winning, and now I was losing. But my jockey kept whispering in my ear. ‘Okay, now get in behind him. Just sit with him. Don’t let him get too far in front. Just let him do all the work.’

So that’s what I did. I just sat in behind him and followed. We got to a part of the course that was a bit tricky. It was a proper bike track with jumps and corners. This was usually the part I enjoyed the most. But it was also the most dangerous part. ‘That’s the way, keep with him,’ said my jockey. I was surprised he managed to stay so calm. I was amazed he managed to stay on!

We navigated our way through the jumps and turns. Then we came out into another long straight stretch of track. My brother was pulling away a bit and my jockey was urging me on. ‘Just a bit faster,’ he said. I caught up to him and was in what they call the slip stream. That’s where I was right behind him. Our sports teacher told us about that once. He said that the rider in front cuts through the air, so the second rider doesn’t have to pedal as hard, because they don’t have to fight against the air. After the long straight stretch, we got to the velodrome. The velodrome is basically a circle at the end of the track that you can go around. It’s on an angle and it’s a bit like the tracks that professionals ride on.

The idea was that we would go around here and then back through the course until we got home. I wanted to try and overtake my brother on this part and try and beat him home. But my jockey just kept gently whispering, ‘not yet, not yet’. That was the way it was for most of the rest of the race. My brother would pull away a bit, then I would catch up until my jockey told me to ease off again. We arrived at the dirt part of the track again. I followed my brother around the curves and over the jumps. Except, after the hardest jump, I didn’t land properly and my wheel skidded out from under me, and I fell. Luckily for him, my jockey landed on top of me.

‘It’s no use,’ I cried, ‘I’ll never win now.’

‘Don’t give up!’ my jockey screamed. I was so used to his gentle whisper, that the scream instantly got me back on the bike and riding again. I was riding slower though, because my leg was hurting.

‘It’s no use,’ I mumbled again, ‘I can’t do it.’

‘Don’t say that,’ my jockey said encouragingly, ‘there’s always a chance.’

This thought spurred me on and I started pedalling as fast as I could. I was in the home straight, but my brother was a fair way in front of me. He had eased right off. He thought he had the race won. I was catching up though. I was tired and my leg was hurting, but I kept going.

‘The important thing,’ my jockey said, ‘the important thing is to stay focussed.’

‘It’s no use,’ I repeated, sounding like a broken record, ‘I’m going to lose.’

‘No you’re not. Keep your head up son, there’s always a chance.’

I looked up to see how far behind I was. I had caught up a fair way, but was still behind. Then I saw something I couldn’t believe. Galloping directly towards my brother and I was Bobby, or should I say, Always a Chance . I wondered what he was doing. But my jockey said ‘stay focussed boy, stay focussed.’ I put my head down and pedalled hard. I could see what was happening ahead of me. As Bobby came closer he slowed down, until he was simply walking towards my brother.

My brother had slowed right down and was looking at this strange little horse. My jockey was whispering instructions. ‘Stay focussed, stay calm’. I was gaining on my brother really quickly. He had almost stopped. It would just be a few more seconds and I would have him. Just as I caught up to my brother, who was still too pre-occupied with looking at this strange little horse, my jockey yelled into my ear ‘now! Go for it!’

I took one look at the finish line and put my head down. I could feel my brother gaining on me. He’d forgotten about the horse and remembered the race. I didn’t know if I could hold him off. But my jockey was urging me on, pushing me forwards. It was as if he were riding the race as much as me. We were getting closer to the finish line and I was still in front. I could see mum there with her polaroid camera, ready to take a photo. I got an extra burst of energy and started pulling away from my brother.

We were about a hundred metres away from the finish line. I could hear the galloping of hooves. Bobby was coming up on the outside along the grass. My jockey gave me one last encouraging word and then said ‘You can do it by yourself from here.’

With that he jumped off my shoulder and landed on Bobby’s back. They veered off the course and over to a clump of gum trees to watch the end of the race. I was riding really fast, but I knew my brother would not let me win. He was catching up and seemed to have more energy than I did. Fifty metres to go, forty, thirty, twenty. We were neck and neck riding towards the line. He’d caught me, but I was holding on. Ten metres, five, one.

Just as we crossed the line mum took a photo. It was too close to call, but we were both confident we had won. We were puffing and panting and waiting for the polaroid to develop. Mum was waving it around in the air to dry it out. We both eagerly watched as the blank photo turned into shadows, which turned into a picture. As soon as I saw the photo I was ecstatic. It clearly showed that I had won the race. All my happiness built up inside me and I was jumping around excitedly. I was screaming and laughing. I felt as if I could ride the race again.

My brother was very disappointed. He didn’t look happy at all.

‘It was all that stupid horse’s fault,’ he said.

‘What horse?’ my mother and I both asked at the same time.

‘There was this little horse about as big as my hand running along the track and it distracted me.’

‘Really,’ said my mother, ‘why don’t you just accept that your brother beat you fair and square? By the looks of it, he even fell off.’

I hadn’t noticed that my leg was bleeding. As my brother walked off upset and my mother bent down and fussed over my leg, I looked over to the gum trees and saw my little jockey and his horse. He was sitting on Bobby’s back and patting him on the neck. Mum wanted me to come in so she could fix up my leg. I said I would be there in a minute. I walked home past the gum trees. When I got there, both jockey and horse seemed very pale. It was just like the polaroid photo in reverse. Instead of fading into a picture, they were fading out of one.

‘Goodbye!’ waved the jockey.

‘Will I ever see you again?’ I asked.

‘Oh, in a picture somewhere,’ he said with a smile.

‘But what about in real life?’ I begged.

‘There’s always a chance,’ he said as they faded away.

It seemed as if as soon as he said this, they were there no more. As if somebody had erased them. I went inside and mum made a big deal about me winning the race, and fixed up my bleeding leg. She found an old frame and put the photo in it. She wrote at the bottom Photo Finish.  I took it and got my brother to sign it at the bottom too. After all, that was our bet.

Then I hung it on my wall next to my ex-favourite photo, which was now almost back to normal. I say almost, because there’s a small detail that has changed. It’s a little detail and most people wouldn’t notice it. But as they are going past the post, my jockey friend has his head turned, with a smile on his face, winking at me.

I love both the photos on my wall, and I often lie on my bed staring at them. Anyway, I have a lot of time to do that, at least for the next month... My brother is doing all my chores!