Another Kind of Cowboy by Susan Juby Page A

least middle class. What if he lived in one of these falling-down trailers? What if his mom was one of those hugely obese ladies who can’t fit out the front door of her double-wide and wears a stained housedress and eats Cheetos all day? What if his dad has no teeth? I quickly practiced my not-horrified face so that I wouldn’t betray my real feelings when we finally got to his tar-sided shack with the inbred, handicapped chickens flapping around in the dust outside.
    Suddenly one of the twins shrieked, “Left! Oh my God! Left! Alex—turn here! Now! ” which scared Alex so much that his foot came off the gas, the car stalled, and we coasted silently into a pothole-filled little parking lot.
    â€œGood thing you have that N on the rear window,”said one of his sisters as Alex brought the car to a stop in front of a plain white building with a garage on one side and a small doorway on the other.
    â€œIt’s a good thing he’s a better rider than he is driver, eh, Cleo?”
    I saw my chance to score points.
    â€œOh, he is,” I gushed. “He’s a really great rider.”
    We all sat in silence for a few seconds.
    â€œUh, you’re going to have to move so we can get out,” said one of the twins.
    â€œSorry,” I said as I scrambled out of the car and pushed the seat forward.
    â€œImagine if someone attacked Alex for his bad driving,” said one twin as she tried to push some of her weapons out the door, “and they forced him off the road so they could give him a beating.”
    â€œThat would be so cool,” said the other one, who was trapped behind a wall of swords and sticks. “At first they’d think he was a tough guy because of the car. Then they’d see that he’s all sweaters and cords and rubber boots. So they’d be like, ‘Let’s get him. He’s a gentleman farmer! He’s no threat.’”
    â€œYeah! They’d try to pull him out through the front window by his hair.”
    â€œOnly we would pop out of the backseat wherewe’d been hiding. We’d come flying out like ninjas!”
    At this point, they were both still trapped by their equipment but seemed too busy babbling about their violent fantasy to notice. Alex sat with his head resting on the steering wheel.
    â€œThe guys wouldn’t believe their bad luck for picking the deadliest car in all of Cedar. Maybe even all of Nanaimo!”
    â€œYeah!”
    Still talking about the epic beating they were going to inflict on their brother’s fictional attackers, the twins finally freed themselves and piled out of the car, half their gear clattering to the pavement as they went.
    â€œSee you at nine-thirty!” said the one wearing a camouflage-patterned terry-cloth headband. She and her sister flashed supersized grins at Alex and me as they disappeared into the building. I got back into the car and shut the door.
    The car seemed very quiet without them.
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    After Alex dropped off his sisters he drove us back to his house.
    â€œAre you sure you don’t want to go to a movie, or something?” he asked.
    I was all, No, no, that’s fine. We can hang at your house. Even though your mom probably weighs 450 pounds and your dad weighs 80 and has no teeth and lost his job at the chicken manure factory a while ago and hasn’t gotten back on his feet since.
    I was all geared up to show him that I have no problem with poor country folk. Still, I was pretty relieved when we stopped at a regular-type house. In Cedar, people with lots of money live right next door to people who have none. The Fords’ place was somewhere in the middle. Their house was big and fairly new, your basic white box. They must have some money because they had a speedboat parked in the driveway and a trampoline on the front lawn, and a huge motor home, the kind used as dressing rooms on movie sets, parked right beside their house.
    Inside, the house was