Cowboy Colt Read Free Page B

begin. “I think I know why you didn’t sign when I needed you in class.”
    â€œIt’s not my job to bail you out of everything. Let your mommy or daddy come to your rescue. Or just pay attention yourself.”
    â€œYeah. I know. I shouldn’t daydream in class.” I don’t like his crack about my parents coming to the rescue, but I let it go. I don’t want to fight with him.
    He shrugs and looks away.
    This is harder than I thought. “Something’s bothering you, Colt. And I think I know what it is.”
    He wheels on me. His brown eyes narrow. If he were a horse, his ears would be laid flat back. And I’d be dodging so I wouldn’t get bitten. “ Nothing is bothering me! And if it were, it wouldn’t be any of your business!”
    â€œYes, it would. We’re friends. What bothers you bothers me.”
    He puffs through his nose and turns away.
    I try to hold myself together. “I’m not mad about today.” At least, I’m trying not to be mad. “I just . . . well, I wondered why you were acting weird. And I think I know. It’s about Dream, isn’t it?”
    â€œDream?” He says the word like it tastes bad.
    â€œYou feel sad because I have a horse and you don’t. But what I want to say is that we can share. You can ride Dream whenever you—”
    Colt busts out laughing. But it’s not a funny laugh. It’s the least funny laugh I’ve ever heard. “Dream? You think I’m upset because I don’t have a nag like Dream?”
    That hurts. I try to tell myself he’s covering up. “You know you’ve always wanted a horse.”
    â€œRight. I want a quarter horse. I want a horse I can race barrels with. Not a horse that could stand in for one of the barrels.”
    That does it. I’m on my feet, heart pounding. “Colt Stevens, stop being mean!”
    Colt jumps up. He’s a head taller than I am. He glares at me. “I’ll stop being mean when you stop being short!”
    Somebody laughs behind me. I turn to see Dylan, Brooks, and Nick.
    Colt’s words sting. I know I’m short. I’ve never really thought of it as a bad thing. People are always telling me I’m “cute.” I guess I thought being short was part of being cute, when I thought about it at all. But the way Colt said it makes me wish I could look down on him the way he’s looking down on me.
    I want to come up with something that will sting back. But my words are clogged up in my throat. And I don’t want these boys to see me cry.
    I turn and run toward home. I think Colt calls out something after me. But I can’t hear him because of the roar in my ears.
    Larissa was right. Colt has changed. He’s not my best friend.
    Well, fine. I don’t need Colt Stevens. And I don’t need a best friend.

4

    Advice
    By the time I get home, I’ve given up trying to hold in tears. They flood my eyes, my cheeks, and my neck.
    I must have been crying so loud that my mom heard me. There’s a tap on my bedroom door, and when I open it, she’s standing there.
    I throw myself into my mother’s arms. I guess it’s more like throwing myself into her legs. My mom is taller than most dads. Her jeans are a red blur through my tears. Mom never wears plain old blue jeans. She loves colors too much.
    She reaches down and folds me into her arms like she did when I was a little kid and skinned my knee. This time it’s my heart that feels skinned.
    â€œLand o’ living, gal! You look like death eatin’ a soda cracker. What’s got your goat, sweetheart?” She strokes my hair without letting me go.
    â€œI . . . I . . .” I’m sobbing too hard to get words out.
    â€œTell your mama what’s troubling you.”
    I look up at her. Crying makes me madder than ever. “I’m never talking to him again!” I vow.
    Mom sits