How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer (14 page)

Try Not to Be a Dork

After breakfast, everyone was sent to their cabins to pack and clean (except for Victoria, who was washing dishes). I tried a million times to roll my sleeping bag in a tight cylinder like Dad always did, but it ended up looking like a telescope. I finally gave up and played checkers on the porch with Pogo while we kept an eye out for our parents.

Luckily, the swelling had gone down on my lip overnight, and with the help of a little of Charlotte's makeup, I actually looked good.

“Chloe!” Mom and Dad walked across the grass, holding hands.

I ran and wrapped my arms around them. “I missed you guys so much!”

Mom squeezed me tight and then held me out at arm's length. “Did you have fun?”

“Yep!”

“Let's get your stuff into the van and then you can show us all the cake-decorating stuff you learned,” Dad said.

“Yeah, well, that didn't really work out. Not sure how I'm going to earn money for a bike now.” I shrugged. “I'll have to come up with a new idea.”

We tossed my stuff in the van, and I led them toward the barn.

“I ended up looking after King Arthur.”

“King Arthur?” Dad asked.

“He's a goat—with issues.”

Mom and Dad stopped dead in their tracks.

“You took care of an animal?” Dad said.

“Yep, and I actually enjoyed it—sort of—toward the end—the very end.”

King Arthur, once again groomed and free of twigs and leaves, nibbled away at the mound of hay in the center of his stall. I fumbled with his door but got it open and ushered my parents through.

Dad gave him a pat on the head and Mom stroked his back.

“He seems sweet,” she said. “Was he fun to take care of?”

Sure, if you like swimming in lakes, having precious belongings ingested, rolling down hills, and doing water rescues.
King Arthur wandered over to me and gently nudged my leg, asking for a pet. I rubbed his ear. “It was definitely an experience I won't forget anytime soon.”

Doc joined us inside the stall. “Mr. and Mrs. McCorkle?” He no longer had the bandage on, but a large lump with a nasty bruise covered the right side of his head.

“This is Doc Mulholland,” I said. “He's the vet.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mom said.

Dad gestured toward Doc's head. “You and King Arthur have a head-butting competition?”

Doc laughed. “No, no, he'd win for sure if we did that. Just an accident from the storm last night—lost a battle with a swinging door. I wanted you to know that Chloe's been a
huge
help to all of us here at Minnehaha.” He patted my shoulder and winked. “She's very responsible and extremely good with animals.”

I
was
good with animals—which surprised even me. I'd never really liked them before, but maybe that was because I didn't know much about them. But being surrounded for the last two weeks by fur, fuzz, and feathers had gotten me used to them. Plus, with Doc's animal classes each day, I had learned a lot. Animals were actually kind of fun.

Then
the
idea popped into my head—the idea I'd been waiting for.

Pet-sitting.

Pet-sitting would solve my money problems! Maybe more people in the neighborhood were due to go on vacation—people with pets. I could practice all the stuff Doc had taught me—at least with cats and dogs. I was pretty sure there weren't a lot of people with cows, horses, or, thankfully, goats in my neighborhood.

Pet-sitting. My heart pounded with excitement at my idea. I had to time this right though. There was a good chance Mom and Dad would collapse on the barn floor in laughter once I shared my idea. I studied Mom and Dad. They were smiling. That was good sign. They were holding hands. Another good sign. They could support each other and not fall down in hysterics.

I cleared my throat. “So, Mom and Dad, after what Doc Mulholland said about me being responsible and good with animals,” I said, “how about I start pet-sitting?”

They stayed upright. Seriously.

Dad raised his eyebrow and glanced at Mom.

“What do you think?” Dad asked.

I clasped my hands together. “Please?”

Dad's mouth twitched sideways, like he was considering my request. “Are you sure, Chloe? Are you ready to take on animals?”

“Yes! I want to try this, Dad. Please!”

Mom squeezed Dad's hand. “What about Napoleon?”

Dad nodded. “I think we're on the same page.”

“Well?” I bounced on my toes.

“Actually, Mr. Philips is going on vacation for a week and needs someone to watch his dog,” Dad said. “He mentioned it just this morning.”

“Care to give it a shot?” Mom said. “It would be a good trial run.”

I squealed. “Yes! I'll do it! Can I make flyers and hand them out around the neighborhood when we get back?”

“Let's see how it goes with Napoleon first,” Dad said.

I wrapped my arms around them and squeezed. “Thank you!”

The dream of a new bike had returned.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” I said. “Guess who else is here? Nathan and Sebastian, from school. They're in the science lab with Pogo. C'mon.”

“Who's Pogo?” Dad asked.

“My friend.”

We checked out the science fair and visited with Nathan's parents. Major Maddux, Nathan's dad, laughed so hard at the story of me drinking the sea monkeys that he started hiccupping—and that made
me
laugh.

“Let's just hope no one asks you to pet-sit any sea monkeys,” Dad said.

The camp speakers crackled, and Director Mudwimple's voice came through. “Parents, I hope you are having a wonderful time seeing what our campers have been doing these past two weeks. It's now time for our banquet, complete with desserts made by our cake decorating class. Please make your way to the mess hall.”

The mess hall looked like a fancy restaurant. White linen tablecloths covered each table, and there were more forks and spoons at each setting than I knew what to do with. The smells of garlic, butter, and various herbs made my stomach rumble. The food was at the far end of the mess hall.

We got our lunch and sat with Pogo and her family. Garlic-ginger green beans, potatoes au gratin, chicken stuffed with smoked Gouda and bacon, and some fancy bread I couldn't pronounce filled my plate.

Toward the end of the meal, Coach Fox stood on the stage and whistled for our attention.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he bellowed. “Director Mudwimple has something to say.”

Director Mudwimple climbed next to him and looked around. “We really enjoyed having all your kids here. They've decorated some amazing treats, cared for our precious animals, and the science group in particular has been quite inventive. And after observing the sports teams, I have no doubt that I'll be cheering on some of our campers in the NFL or NBA one day.” She waited as parents applauded. “However, there are three campers in particular I want to say something about.

“Last night, we had a pretty bad storm here. I'm sure you noticed all the fallen branches and debris on the ground. A tornado went through several miles east of here.” She stopped and took a deep breath, almost like she was getting choked up.

“In the middle of the storm, one of our animals—a goat named King Arthur—got out of his stall. Though I have to say the fact the King Arthur escaped is nothing new around here.”

The mess hall filled with knowing murmurs and laughter from my fellow campers.

“If it hadn't been for the quick actions and excellent teamwork of three of our campers, Paulie Smithfield, Chloe McCorkle, and Victoria Radamoskovich, King Arthur might have died.” She cleared her throat. “I would like to honor Victoria, Chloe, and Paulie with our Distinction of Recognized Kindness award.
If
they decide to return to Camp Minnehaha next summer, they may have first pick of any elective they choose.”

What? Victoria got an award for almost killing the goat?

Across the hall, Victoria's mother was smiling and her father was looking at her like maybe he'd never seen her before. And Victoria was beaming from ear to ear. A real smile—not a smirk. Who knew that conceited, dissatisfied face of hers even knew how to smile?

She caught me looking at her and her smile was replaced by something else. Guilt? Fear?

I shook my head to tell her she didn't need to worry about me telling on her.

Dad crushed me in a hug then. “Proud of my girl,” he whispered.

Director Mudwimple motioned us forward. “Ladies?”

Pogo and I started to weave our way through the tables to meet with Victoria up front. There was more applause, and some dorks in the back made bleating noises like a goat—I'm pretty sure it was Sebastian and Nathan.

Just as I made it to the front of the mess hall, I tripped and fell. My face burned with embarrassment. Sheesh. How was it I could run down a muddy ravine, keep my balance in a strong current, rescue a goat, help carry it uphill, and
not
fall over, but put me on a dry, flat floor in front of a couple hundred people and I fall flat on my face? As I picked myself up, I stole a look at Nathan.

He gave me a friendly smile.

I took a bow and everyone laughed. It felt good.

Director Mudwimple handed us certificates, and we hurried back to our seats—well, Pogo and I hurried. Victoria stayed up there longer, smiling and posing for everyone.

“Can I, Mom and Dad? Can I come back next summer?” I said, sitting back down.

“We'll see,” Mom said, but she winked at Dad. That usually meant yes.

Dad leaned over to me. “Radamoskovich? Is she any relation to JT Radamoskovich?”

“His sister.”

Dad scanned the mess hall, like he was checking to see if the football star was having lunch with everyone. “His quarterback sneak play is the best I've seen in a long time.”

“Yeah? Must run in the family,” I muttered. “Victoria has some sneaky moves of her own.”

Pogo choked on her cupcake.

When the banquet ended, Pogo and I waddled our overstuffed bodies to the barn one more time to say good-bye to the animals. King Arthur was in his pen, quietly munching away at an afternoon snack. Did he ever
not
eat? I rubbed behind his ears, bent over, and gave him a big hug.

“Hope I see you next year, buddy.”

He nudged me gently, as if to say,
Me too
.

Pogo draped her arm over my shoulder. “Someone needs to take care of that little guy.”

I nodded. “Thanks for everything, Pogo.”

She cocked her head. “Who's Pogo?”

I slapped my hand over my mouth. I couldn't believe I let the name slip out.

“It's my nickname for you,” I said sheepishly. “I meant it as a compliment, 'cause you're always bouncing and bubbly.”

She stared at the ground without talking.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I hope I didn't hurt—”

Her head shot up. “I like it! It's perky!”

We pulled out of the camp parking lot around five o'clock. I cradled Mr. Snuffles in my arms and watched as the landscape changed from forests to country fields to family neighborhoods. I pulled my journal out from the side pocket of my suitcase and opened it up.

Saturday, June 26

5:51 p.m.

Camp Minnehaha was AWE-SOME!

Doc Mulholland proposed to Ms. Jacqueline at the grand finale banquet—she said yes!!! IT WAS SOOOOO ROMANTIC!!!!!!!!

I saw Pogo and Sebastian take a photo together. And they traded phone numbers. I'm pretty sure Sebastian likes her.

Nath
n
has been supersweet to me this whole time. Before he left this afternoon, he came over and said good-bye. Then…he HUGGED me—sort of. It was more like a sideways hug. I wonder if that means he likes me—I hope so! I'm so glad he lives in my neighborhood and we can hang out more before school starts.

I have several weeks of summer vacation left, and I know just how I'm going to use them.

#1 Pet-sit like crazy.

#2 Save up money to buy a new bike (in turquoise, not pink).

#3 Convince my parents to let me and Mr. Snuffles go back to Camp Minnehaha next summer.

I totally just realized if you turn Distinction of Recognized Kindness into an acronym, it spells DORK!

LOL!!

I guess I don't mind being a dork after all!

I'd like to thank my husband David, for once again taking time to think things through with me on the front porch, while drinking tea. Here's to many more moments like that. You are my constant encourager, building me up each day, and demonstrating your love. I am blessed to be yours.

A special thanks to both Word Weavers and The Inkstigators. Charlotte, Anna, Ruth, Leslie, Marcea (Marcie)—y'all make great cabin mates, and despite what I wrote, y'all are the best!

Thank you Steve Geck for loving the story and helping me polish it to a shine.

And I want to give a big thank-you to Sally Apokedak of the Leslie H. Stobbe Literary Agency. No one could ask for a better agent! Thanks for your continuous hard work, encouragement, and dedication to the craft. You've made me a better writer and I look forward to learning even more from you.