Not Our Summer by Casie Bazay (android based ebook reader TXT) 📗

at the small herd of goats being led to a pen set up near a stock trailer. “I may have cheated a little, actually. I made friends with the little black goat ahead of time, but no one said I couldn’t.” Her smile grows broader, and I play-punch her in the shoulder.

“Doesn’t sound like cheating to me.”

“So what are you doing here? Did you decide to go through with this after all?”

“I dunno,” I say with a shrug. “It was kinda a spur-of-the moment decision.” I don’t feel like elaborating any further. “Do you think it’s too late to enter one of the events?”

“I’m not sure. We can check, I guess.” Her face is hopeful with the possibility. I should never have backed out on this. It was stupid—I was being stupid.

“My mom doesn’t know you weren’t planning to come,” she says. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. She still thinks we’re getting the money. I guess I was hoping you’d show after all.”

I frown. “I’m sorry. I was being a total bitch about things.” I glance toward the line of blue porta-potties a few yards away. “Could you go check for me? I need to use the bathroom. I’ll meet you right back here.”

“No problem.”

Five minutes later, she’s back at our meeting spot, but one look at her face tells me it must be too late. Crap, I should have known.

“There’s only one event still open,” she says.

“What is it? I’ll do it. I don’t care.”

“Money the Hard Way.”

My forehead scrunches. “What the hell is that?”

“It involves bulls.”

A jolt of fear pierces straight through me. “Riding them?”

She shakes her head. “No, not riding them, but you have to be in the arena with one. I think you’re supposed to get a ribbon off its horn or something like that.”

I consider this for a moment. “So, all I have to do is go in there right? I don’t need to win.”

“I guess so, as long as we have a record of you competing.”

I reach for some cash in my front pocket. “How much is it to enter?”

“You don’t have to pay for the amateur events—just sign up.”

My heart begins to thud, but I gotta do what I gotta do, I guess. “Okay, let’s get me signed up, then.”

Becka bites at her lip. “Wait, maybe we should see if there’s something else. Maybe you could borrow a horse or something. You know how to ride.”

I wave her suggestion away. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be careful.”

Becka gives me a skeptical look, but then leads the way to a van with a card table set up out front. A heavy-set woman sits behind it, writing on a notepad. A large box fan teeters on a plastic bucket beside her, blowing her curly hair to one side.

“Um, hi there,” I say. “I need to enter Money the Hard Way.” My voice sounds slightly off.

“You eighteen?”

“Yep.”

She smiles and pushes a clipboard with a consent form toward me. “Sign here, then.”

My stomach turns queasy as I sign on the line, and my knees suddenly feel like they might be made of Jell-O. I’m not sure which is more idiotic: me trying to back out of getting my eighty-seven thousand dollars or willingly signing up to play hide-and-seek with a bull.

CHAPTER 30BECKA

MY PALMS ARE SWEATING, AND IT’S NOT FROM THE heat. The barrel racing event just wrapped up, and a crew in a big white truck circles the arena, picking up the three barrels. I’m back in the stands, squeezed in next to Mom and Tim.

The loudspeaker crackles. “Okay, folks. It’s time for the part everyone’s been waiting for.” The announcer gives a dramatic pause. “The bulls!”

My heart beats extra hard against my chest.

“First up,” he continues, “Money the Hard Way. Then our cowboys will brave the backs of those beasts in our final event of the night—the bull riding.”

The crowd cheers again, but I wipe my hands on my jeans, feeling slightly nauseous.

Mom bumps me with her shoulder. “So what is it K. J. will be doing exactly?”

“I’m not sure.” All I know is that it involves a bull, and since it’s called Money the Hard Way, it’s not too hard to guess that it also involves a fair amount of danger.

Moments later, “Eye of the Tiger” starts blasting from the speakers as eight contestants make their way into the arena. K. J. is the only girl. The contestants are directed to the center of the arena, right where the goats had been tied for my event, and we listen as the announcer explains the game and what may or may not happen with a bull named Psycho. Then, after that lengthy buildup, several loud bangs reverberate from the chutes beneath the announcer’s stand. A gate swings open and a bull comes trotting out. With menacing eyes, it stares around the arena for several seconds before stalking toward the contestants. I suck in a breath between my teeth as the crowd cheers again.

“Did I mention two hundred and fifty dollars is up for grabs here?” the announcer says.

The cheering grows louder.

“Get it, Justin!” someone yells from a few rows below us.

The bull paws the dirt, and Mom gasps, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god! This is awful!”

All I can do is watch, helpless. Get out of there, I silently plead with K. J.

She’s entered the event and made an appearance. That should be enough. She doesn’t need to stay out there; we’re technically done now. Then I think back to the mule ride into the canyon and how she wasn’t scared of the bear at Yellowstone. The Bull Sluice was just another adventure in her eyes, not something to be frightened of. As I watch her now, I know, without a doubt, that she is not going to just walk out of the arena and quit.

With their feet apart in a semi-crouch stance, the contestants start an awkward dance with the bull. A red ribbon dangles