Turn Left at the Cow by Lisa Bullard Read Free Book Online Page A

to him but Kenny just grinned back.
    â€œI’m still a little confused,” I said hurriedly, before Iz got it into her head to stage a mutiny. “I guess it just doesn’t make sense to me. Tell me again why everybody in town is convinced this money is stashed on the island somewhere.”
    Iz put on that I-better-not-have-to-say-this-again voice that Ma used sometimes. “Why else would your dad be out on the lake on such a stormy night other than to bury the money before the cops showed up?” She swept her arm through the air, waving it across the stretch of island.
    Suddenly Kenny called out, “Little help here, Iz!”
    We were within a few feet of the island’s shoreline. Kenny cut the motor and Iz stood up on her seat, balanced a hand on the edge of the boat, and then jumped over into the water when we were just about to kiss the shore. She guided the bow up onto the sand. Kenny gave me a little shove.
    â€œMan overboard,” he said, climbing over the edge himself with the anchor in hand. He made sure one end of the rope was tied to the boat and then drove the anchor deep into the sand a few feet up the beach. Iz pulled the boat higher up onto the shore.
    I looked around the island, thinking about what Iz had said, while the two of them beached the boat. It sounded as if everybody in Long Past Nowhere had decided to go ahead and let themselves believe that the bank money was buried here. I mean, a large sum of missing money? Deserted island? Nothing better to do with your time? Hello! I’d probably buy into the buried-treasure theory myself if I didn’t happen to be related to the guy who had to go sleep with the fishes in order for the whole fairy tale to hang together.
    I figured it was way more likely my father had just turned the boat loose as a false trail and then hauled off with the
mucho dinero
to someplace where they don’t ask too many hard questions. And the truth was, I wasn’t at all sure I liked that ending any better. I mean, the guy knew I was baking in Ma’s oven and that my timer was set for just a few months away, and instead of sticking around to meet me someday, he chose to form a lasting relationship with a pile of cash? Oh, happy birthday to me!
    I was smart enough not to point out any of my reasoning to Iz, given the mood she seemed to be in. It was clear she needed to believe the whole buried-treasure thing, the way some people need to believe in reality TV. If she wanted to buy into it so badly, no reason for me to be the buzzkill. Besides, I’d already figured out I could spend my time in Minnesota either (A) hanging with Kenny and Iz playing Pirates of the Corn and Soybeans, or (B) hanging with the Church Ladies. Iz was a whole lot hotter than Mrs. Faltzkog, so I opted for A.
    But something in me couldn’t resist throwing out, “So how do you figure you’ll be the one to finally crack the whole mystery of the missing money, Nancy Drew?”
    Iz rolled her eyes and walked away.
    As soon as her back was turned, Kenny leaned toward me and whispered loudly, “I know from past experience it ain’t worth it, man; don’t mess with Texas.”
    â€œI heard that!” said Iz. “Are you idiots coming with me or not?”
    We wandered the island, beating our way around trees and through tall grass and underbrush. The island wasn’t very big; we covered the whole thing from one end to the other in an easy hike. I guess it was pretty, or whatever nice thing you can find to say about a deserted hunk of land. But since there weren’t any planks to walk or cannons to set off, or even any squawking parrots yelling “Arrrrggggg,” it didn’t seem as fun and piratey as I had hoped.
    I pretended to memorize every crooked tree limb and the curve of every big rock as Iz pointed them out like some overly helpful Hollywood Celebrity Homes tour guide. She told me her family had spent a lot of time out