Painted Boots Read Online Free

looks sideways, then drops her bag to the ground.  I try to slip past her but she crashes against me, pressing so hard I gasp.  “Give it back,” she says.
    A door slams somewhere as the girl yells, “I swear I’ll hit you!”  I wiggle free of her and stumble, bumping against the car.  Pain blossoms in my hip.  My lucky penny falls from my hand and bounces off the window, landing on a cushion of leaves.  The girl grabs my hair, my head jerks right and I see Kyle coming toward us, skirting between the rows of parked trucks.
    Suddenly, it’s really important that I do something.
    I push from the Subaru, flinging myself and the girl, too, into the truck behind us.  She screams and wraps her arms around my waist.  I try spinning free of her but trip, smashing against the truck’s side mirror.  The air rushes from my lungs.  My bag swings round my body, the strap digging into my neck.  The girl tries to punch me in the stomach, but I shove her.  She bounces against her muddy car.
    From one row over Kyle calls out, “You get on to class, Lindsey.”
    “ The hell I won’t!  Retro’s got my aunt Carol’s pin!”
    I wheeze, “My name is Aspen!”
    Kyle says, “She bought it somewhere, right?  Makes it hers.”
    Lindsey whirls away from me—to argue with Kyle, I guess.  I slump against the truck, willing myself to breathe and tugging the strap of my leather bag away from my throat.  Kyle stops near the Subaru’s bumper and stuffs one hand in his pocket.  “Just get on,” he says.
    “ But it’s mine!”  Lindsey’s fingers clench.  Her hair billows in the wind, a swarm of furious gnats.  Dried mascara fans from the corners of her eyes.
    Kyle kicks at something on the ground.  My penny.  He says, “You could stand a good washing, Linds.”
    Lindsey touches her temple, drawing her fingernail through the black residue there.  A little “Wha . . . ?” gurgles up and escapes her mouth.  Her eyes flare with anger, but she stoops for her bag.  Without another word she walks away.
    I breathe in a deep gulp of air and hold it, feeling the tingling coolness seep into my lungs.  My fingers tremble as I smooth the chocolate brown cable of my sweater then pull my hair behind one ear. The second I take my hand away the wind blows my hair into a mess again.
    “You okay?” Kyle asks.
    “ I’m fine,” I say, though my voice cracks.  I swallow at the annoying urge to cry.  “We should go, right?  We’re late to class.”
    “ Won’t matter if we’re later.”
    I watch him as he watches Lindsey jerk the school’s door open.  The same gusting wind that blows his hair across his forehead in thick, dark dunes catches the school’s door and slams it against the stop.  Once Lindsey is gone Kyle starts walking, back the way he came.  He nods for me to follow.
    I start after him because, really, I don’t know what else to do.
    “ So I’m Kyle, you know?”
    “I know,” I say.  “I’m Aspen.”
    “That you are, girl.”
    I wrap my arms around my body, hugging myself as I trail behind him through three rows of trucks and the occasional car.  He stops at the door of a black Chevy that’s been backed into a stall near the street.  The truck’s old—a pick-up from the sixties, or maybe even the fifties—its cab and wheel wells trimmed in creamy off-white.
    I can’t believe I’ve never noticed this truck before.  It’s flawless and beautiful, restored to mint perfection.  Kyle digs in his pocket and comes up with a key.  The lock makes a dull thud as he turns it, then he pulls the driver’s door wide.
    I look at him, unsure of what to do.
    He raises his eyebrows.  His head tips toward the empty cab.  “After you,” he says.

 
    6
    IT’S A DREAM to step onto the running board, take hold of the steering wheel and pull myself into the cab of Kyle’s truck.  The interior is small, more like a compact car, and spotless.  The cream-colored leather seat makes a scrunchy sound as