Another Kind of Cowboy by Susan Juby Read Free Book Online

sitting on the sand, his surfboard beside him. As soon as I saw him, I knewI’d done the right thing. Look at him, I thought. He’s financially secure for the first time in his life, thanks to me. I walked quickly toward him.
    â€œChad!” I cried. “Chad!”
    He turned at the sound of my voice. When I was about twenty feet away I broke into a run.
    â€œChad!” I said.
    He kind of jumped to his feet and held out his arms. I went to throw myself into them. Only it turns out he wasn’t holding his arms out in a romantic, catch-a-flying-girl kind of way. He was holding them out in a defensive way, so I kind of bounced off him.
    He looked around. “Cleo,” he said without much enthusiasm.
    â€œChad,” I said.
    â€œDude, what are you doing here?”
    Dude?
    â€œBut I just wanted—”
    â€œCleo, man. You shouldn’t be here.”
    Man?
    â€œBut you…we. What about us?”
    I looked and finally noticed the tall, thin woman he’d been sitting beside. If I had to describe her in apolice lineup, I’d have used the word model-y .
    He patted the air, indicating that I should pipe down.
    â€œChad?” said the undeniably hot girl, who still hadn’t gotten to her feet. It was a good thing, too, because she was nearly as tall as me when she was sitting.
    â€œDude, you have to split,” said Chad. “This isn’t cool.”
    â€œChad? What’s going on?” asked the girl. When the girl squinted she looked just like Kate Moss.
    â€œIt’s cool. This is Cleo. I work for her parents. She’s just a—”
    That’s when the big guy in the surfer shorts walked up.
    â€œFancy meeting you two here,” he said. Then he dug around in his shorts and pulled out a private investigator’s I.D.
    â€œChad?” said Kate Moss.
    â€œChad?” I said, still trying to figure out what was happening.
    â€œLook, man, I barely know this girl. She’s been coming on to me…. It’s like she’s obsessed or something.”
    â€œChad?” said Kate Moss again.
    â€œYou took our TVs,” I said.
    Chad spoke to the investigator like I wasn’t even there.
    â€œIt was her idea,” he said. “She asked me to steal their stuff.”
    â€œChad,” said the investigator in a disappointed voice.
    The point of this story is that I have occasionally displayed what my mother refers to as “faulty decision-making.” But I am completely confident that my worst decisions are behind me. I’m pretty certain, anyhow.
    Â 
    Three days after I told my mom I wanted to leave Stoneleigh, I was pulled out of class for a phone call. Right away I was convinced that my parents had been killed by one of those giant parasites they have everywhere in Africa. You know, those ten-foot worms that burrow their way into the skin of your foot and have to be pulled out of your elbow. Maybe they stepped outside and were run down by a herd of stampeding rhinos or mauled by a pack of wild jackals. I wish my parents could occasionally work on movies set somewhere normal, but it’s always the Arctic Circle or Timbuktu or some place.
    I walked into the office, and the secretary pointedme toward the office of Ms. Green, the headmistress.
    Ms. Green’s face was a mottled, reddish color and her forehead was furrowed as though she was busy trying to work out very complicated math. I recognized the look. It meant she’d been talking to my mother. At least my mother was still alive.
    â€œHere’s Cleo now,” said Ms. Green, and quickly handed me the phone.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œHoney! Good news!”
    I flicked a glance at Ms. Green.
    â€œUh, hi, Mom. Why are you calling me here? This is the principal’s office.”
    â€œI’m in Africa, darling,” she said, as though that explained everything. “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve found you a new instructor.