Free The Ranch She Left Behind by Kathleen O`Brien Page A

school playground. Playgrounds belong to the city, not to people.” But then her curiosity got the better of her. “How can you have been sleeping in a tree? Isn’t that dangerous?”
    The boy dusted off his hands. “Not if you know how.” His grin broadened, his sunburned face busting out in white teeth, practically from ear to ear. “I know how.”
    For a minute, when he smiled, he looked kind of cute. He was a few inches taller than she was, and wiry, like boys were when they had too much energy and never stood still. His hair was blond and thick, and his eyes were a sparkly blue—just about the same color as the sky, now that it was almost evening.
    Ellen still thought Greg was cuter, because this guy looked like he might be a hick, with his dirty blue jeans and cowboy boots and flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled back. But he was pretty cute, anyhow. Stephanie would definitely think so. Stephanie had a thing for cowboys.
    “So.” The boy took a Tootsie Roll out of his pocket, unwrapped it, and stuffed it into his mouth. As he started to chew, he paused. He let his hand hover over his pocket, looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “Want one?”
    She did. Though she hadn’t noticed it before, she was starving. But she thought about the diet chart in her diary. And she thought about how she’d look like a cow, chewing away at the sticky candy. He certainly did, although he obviously didn’t care what she thought. “No, thanks.”
    “‘K.” He chewed a little more. “So what are you looking for?”
    The sudden recollection of her awful mistake shot through her like a hot poker. How could she have been thinking about cute guys, or even her diet, when she’d lost her mother’s earring?
    “My earring. It fell off.”
    “You yanked it off, you mean.” But the kid didn’t sound judgmental, just factual. He chewed thoughtfully, his gaze scanning the overgrown grass. “What does it look like?”
    She held out her hand, opening the palm to show him the match. He walked closer, put his hands on his knees, bent down and studied it without touching, the way he might look at a specimen in science class.
    “Is that really yours? It looks kind of grown-up for you.” He tilted his head. “How old are you?”
    “I’m eleven,” she said, lifting her chin to look older, and, she hoped, skinnier. “I’m plenty old enough to wear earrings. Why? How old are you?”
    He chewed on his lower lip briefly. “I’m ten,” he said.
    “What grade?”
    “Fourth.”
    Oh, man. He was a whole grade below her. She felt stupid for having thought he was cute. No wonder he carried Tootsie Roll candy around in his pocket and didn’t care if he looked ugly chewing a wad of caramel in front of a girl.
    “Well, I’m going into fifth,” she said. “And these earrings are definitely mine. My mother gave them to me. It can’t have gone far, but the grass is so high….”
    She got back on her knees and started ruffling her palm over the grass, inch by inch. “It’s important.”
    She glanced at him over her shoulder. “It’s real,” she said. Then, in case a cowboy kid wouldn’t know what that meant, she added, “like, I mean…real gold.”
    He nodded, dropped to his knees and started combing the grass, too. He was working an area much closer to where she’d been sitting, and she suddenly realized that was smarter. The earring wouldn’t have flown this far.
    She subtly worked her way back toward him, but her hopes were fading. This was like the old cliche—finding a needle in a haystack. The thatch of golden-brown dead grass below the new growth was almost exactly the same color as the earring.
    And it would be dark soon.
    “So will your mom be super mad? Will you get in trouble if we don’t find it?”
    She glanced over at the boy. It was nice, him saying we like that, as if they were partners in the hunt. He didn’t have to help. He could have walked away and gone home.
    “Not trouble from my mom.” She bent