That Boy From Trash Town Read Free Page A

learned how to get along with her cousins, came almost a year after she and her mother had moved to Texas.
    On a muggy summer day, after their shared riding lesson, her cousins began teasing her, the way they always did. But this time a challenge had been issued, and a challenge had been accepted.
    To prove she wasn't a sissy-baby, Whitney was to go through the hedge that surrounded the Harcourt estate and bring back proof that she had gone all the way to Macon Street, in the middle of a section of houses that her cousins called "Trash Town."
    Ignoring her cousins' jeers, Whitney crawled under the hedge and marched away from them.
    It wasn't until she had passed a couple of streets that she realized what she had gotten herself into. During the two-block walk, Whitney had come to understand just why they had called it Trash Town. Rubbish was everywhere, and everything was broken-broken cars in the driveways, broken toys in the yards, broken furniture on the porches. Even the streets were broken. And it suddenly occurred to Whitney that if she stayed there, she might get broken, too.
    There was no one to help her. The people she had passed on the street stared at her. And without exception, they all had tight, mean looks on their faces.
    So she sat down on the curb and did what she would never have done in front of her cousins. She hid her face between her knees and cried.
    "What are you sniveling about, kid?"
    Wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, she looked up. The person standing beside her looked like a man, but was probably little older than Tad. His skin was tanned a deep copper, and his dark hair was long and unkempt, with features that were strong in his thin face. And he had the same anger in his eyes that she had seen in the other residents of Trash Town.
    Staring up at him, Whitney stopped crying and swallowed several times in nervous reaction.
    "What are you doing in Trash Town?" the boy snarled at her, the anger blazing even hotter in his dark eyes.
    "I live here," she lied. "Down that way." She pointed vaguely in a direction. Rising to her feet, she added, "I'm going back home now. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye."
    She had begun to walk away when the sound of his laughter stopped her. She turned back to look at him and was instantly captivated by his laughing face.
    "Sure you live here," he said, still laughing. "Everybody in Trash Town wears riding pants. Now give. What're you doing here?"
    The question made her remember her predicament. She drew in a shuddering breath and sat down on the curb again. Leaning forward, she rested her chin against her fists and sniffed a couple of times.
    The boy sat beside her, and after a moment he put his arm around her shoulders. "Come on, kid. What's the problem?"
    "Do you know Tad Harcourt?"
    "Sure," he said immediately. "Me and Tad, we're just like this." He held up a pair of crossed fingers.
    The words made it sound as if he was teasing, but his voice had grown hard again. She studied his face. "You don't like him, either? He's my cousin."
    "Bummer," he said in sympathy, then an instant later he whistled softly through his teeth. "You're a Harcourt?"
    "Yes... bummer," she echoed mournfully. "At least, Uncle Ames says I am, but I don't know why I have to be a Harcourt when my name is Grant. It says so on my birth certificate. Whitney Daryn Grant. If my Daddy hadn't got drowned I could still be a Grant and live in Winnetka, but he did. Sometimes I cry, but not in front of Tad. The Daryn part of my name is from my father's mother. She's dead, too, but she was probably real sweet. The Harcourts are mostly mean. 'Specially Tad. He hates Amesy... that's Uncle Ames and Aunt Jocelyn's little baby. Tad hates a little baby. And just because he wanted to be the only boy. I think that stinks. Baby, now, she's not too mean. She's mostly just dumb. But the others are great big snots. Allie calls me Spitney and Muffy says I have cow eyes and I don't think she's ever seen a cow,