How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer (9 page)

Row, Row, Row Your Goat

“Naa! Naaa!”

King Arthur had eaten through the rope that kept the floating dock tied to the pier. To complicate things, he was still on the dock and was now
stranded
in the middle of Lake Minnehaha.

I could run back to the kitchen to tell Ms. Jacqueline, but what could she do about it? She was petite and dainty and could no more rescue a goat from the middle of a lake than she could win an arm wrestling match against Coach Fox. There was Coach Fox, but he'd be at the playing fields. The barn was too far away for me to get Doc Mulholland—and I didn't know if goats could swim. What if King Arthur got so scared he fainted and fell off the dock and drowned while I was away getting help? Actually, my life would be a lot easier if he did fall off and drown. Maybe everyone would feel so sorry for me that they'd let me pick any elective I wanted—even if it was already full.

Or…they'd all blame me for his death, I'd be charged with murder, and go to prison for the rest of my life. Better to rescue the idiot goat than spend my life in prison.

“Naa!”

He sounded pitiful, all alone in the middle of the lake. I tossed my hands up in surrender, walked over to where the life vests hung, and grabbed a couple. I wasn't sure if he'd wear the life vest (or how I'd even get one on him), but I didn't want him to drown if he fell in.

“You'd better appreciate this,” I muttered, climbing into a canoe. The canoe glided across the lake as I paddled for the dock. Moments later, I pulled up alongside King Arthur. He clip-clopped over to the edge of the dock and looked down at me.

“Naa.” His eyes were huge and all four of his legs were spread wide to help him keep his balance. The dock rocked back and forth.

“Stay calm—please don't faint,” I begged.

With one hand, I grabbed the dock and slowly stood in the canoe. “Come here, boy, come on,” I coaxed. “The only way you're getting back to the barn is if you get in the canoe.”

I tried several times to get him to jump into the canoe with me before giving up.

“Okay, it looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way.”

I bent down and grabbed the floating, chewed-up rope that was still attached to the floating dock and tied it in a knot around my seat. The dock was too heavy for me to tow back to land. Plus, King Arthur might fall off once the dock started moving. When I was sure the dock and my canoe were firmly attached, I looked around to make sure no one was watching. I leaned in as close as I could to him.

“Boo!” I yelled.

He passed out.

Mission accomplished.

I knew I only had a few seconds to work. I quickly wrapped my arms around his stout body and pulled him off the dock and into the canoe with me. He was way lighter than I expected.

I clipped the lead rope to his collar, and I was even able to put the life vest around his neck before he stood up. I buckled it the best I could, but having never performed a water rescue on a demented goat before, I could've missed a vital step.

I hoped not.

“Don't move,” I told him. I don't know why I was giving him instructions. I knew he couldn't understand me.

I carefully untied the rope from my seat and picked up the paddle. I pushed away from the dock and, moving slowly so I wouldn't upset King Arthur, dipped the paddle into the water. I paddled at the pace of a snail through cement, but at least we made progress. He stood in the middle of the canoe facing me, with his trademark blank expression, mindlessly nibbling the end of his life jacket, while I rowed him toward land. The whole scene reminded me of one of those old-fashioned paintings—a young man rowing a boat with a pretty lady holding a parasol, only instead, this was a goat wearing (and eating) a life jacket. About halfway to the shoreline, King Arthur started to sway from side to side as if he was ill.

Just what I needed—a seasick goat.

“Easy there, Your Highness,” I said, hoping the sound of my voice would calm him. Instead, he got all twitchy and began to rock the canoe even faster. I dropped the paddle into the lake and grabbed the sides of the canoe with both hands. “Whoa! Stop moving!”

We were about twenty feet from shore. Even without the paddle, we probably could coast in if he would just hold still. King Arthur must have seen how close we were to land, because the next thing I knew, he leaped overboard, flipping me out of the canoe and into the lake.

I came up for a breath as King Arthur's life vest floated past. I grabbed it and turned in a circle, looking for the goat. Had he drowned? Finally, I saw him.

King Arthur had made it to shore and was shaking himself dry. The canoe seemed to have righted itself after I flipped out and was floating a couple feet away. I swam over and flung King Arthur's vest into it. I dragged myself out of the water, feeling ten pounds heavier than before I got wet. Hauling the canoe out of the lake, I glared at King Arthur as water dripped from my face. I swear, he grinned at me.

“Thanks for nothing, pal,” I sneered.

“Naaa.”

I sloshed my way over to him and picked up the wet lead rope. Babysitting would be a piece of cake compared to this.

“Let's go,” I said, pulling him toward the path that led back to the barn.

Just then, Nathan rounded the corner and jerked to a stop when he saw us.

“Chloe?”

“Yes?” I tried to act normal, like I wasn't soaking wet and there wasn't a soggy goat dripping next to me.

“Uh, why are you and King Arthur both wet?”

“We went for a swim.”

“Just now?”

“Yes, we couldn't do it earlier because he had finished breakfast. I heard you should always wait at least an hour after eating before swimming with a goat.”

Nathan stood speechless.

King Arthur ate a flower.

I felt like an idiot.

Put a Plan into Action

I caught up with Pogo during afternoon free time. We hung out on the pier instead of playing Tacos and Burritos. I'd had enough swimming to last the rest of the week.

As we leaned over the railing and dropped pine needles in the water, I filled her in on the morning's drama.

“I'm really sorry all that happened,” she said, “but I sure wish I could have seen you scare the bejeebers out of King Arthur just to get him in the canoe.”

“It was the only thing I could think of. That stupid goat made me look like a complete fool in front of—” I stopped. My crush did not need to become public knowledge.

“In front of who?” Pogo teased. “Anyone in particular?”

I blushed and shrugged. “I was on the beach in broad daylight—the whole camp could have seen for all I know.”

Victoria's shrill voice carried from the canoes on the beach. She sat in the front of one as Anna struggled to shove off into the water. Eventually, she dislodged it from the sand and jumped in, sending the canoe into a teeter-totter rhythm.

“Watch it, Anna!” Victoria snapped.

“Sorry,” Anna said, and paddled toward the far side of the lake.

“Why does Anna put up with her anyway?” I said.

“I don't know—maybe she's too shy to speak up for herself.” Pogo dropped a handful of pine needles into the water. “If I didn't have you for a friend and I had to deal with Her Highness by myself, camp would be horrible.”

The unspoken but understood rule at camp was
make friends or be a loner
. Pogo was the closest thing I had to a best friend here.

She turned to me. “I've got an awesome idea to help keep track of King Arthur.”

“Glue his hooves to the barn floor? Mount his head to a wall? I'm in!”

She rolled her eyes. “No—I'm making a tracking device you can put on his collar.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Yeah—I think so. My dad's an electronic engineer and our house is full of gadgets and wires and transmitters—you name it, it's there. Before Mom died, Dad and I would go on daddy-daughter dates while Mom watched my brothers and sisters. But after she died, getting a babysitter was too expensive, so instead, once my little brothers and sisters were in bed, Dad and I would go into the garage and build stuff together. He's shown me how to make lots of fun junk, and I think with stuff in the science lab, plus my cell phone, I can do it.” She pushed off from the rail and smiled. “That's what my science project is—only I hope I can finish it early, so you can use it.”

“That'll be supercool if it works. I'm impressed.”

“Thanks.”

I told Pogo I'd catch her later and headed off to find Ms. Jacqueline. It was time to put my new plan into action.

I climbed the steps to the cake kitchen and knocked on the door.

“
Oui
, come in,” said Ms. Jacqueline.

I bounced inside and saw Doc Mulholland standing close to Ms. Jacqueline as she stirred something inside a pot on the stove.

“Hi, Doc. Hi, Ms. Jacqueline.”

“Hi, yourself,” Doc said. “I'll see you later, Jackie. Save me some of that custard.”

Ms. Jacqueline laughed and waved him off. “Miss Chloe.” She smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to you about something important.”

She nodded. Her timer on the stove dinged. “Well, zen.” She turned the stove off, removed the pan of custard she had been stirring, and handed me a stool. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed. Then I opened my mouth and started talking. Before I knew it, I poured out everything about wanting a new bike, needing to earn money, and the deal I'd made with Mrs. Peghiny. I finished by saying, “So you see, I can't decorate cupcakes for Mrs. Peghiny because I wasn't able to take your class.” I sighed. “I'm going to be such a dork riding my old bike to school this year.”

Ms. Jacqueline let out a light laugh and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “A bike does not make one dorky, as you put it. Caring much of what others think of you is a big burden,
cheri
. When someone carries such burdens, they soon start making choices and acting in ways zat can make them dorky though.”

“I get that. Really I do, but I think riding a new bike would be one less burden
I'd
be carrying. I'll do anything, give up whatever I need to, but, please, please, please, do you have any time when you could give me a private lesson or two? That way I could still go back home and work for Mrs. Peghiny.”

Ms. Jacqueline stared thoughtfully at me for a minute or two before answering. “My week—it is full, no? Especially with zee grand finale banquet coming up so soon.”

My shoulders dropped. This was the only thing I could think of—my one and only shot.

“But I tell you what. You will have to give up your free time in zee evening, but I can give you two hours after dinner on Friday.
Bon?
Zat is the only time I have. You mustn't be late. I cannot reschedule you.”

I jumped up and squealed. “Oh thank you, thank you! I won't miss it—I promise! Thank you so much!” I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed.

“You are welcome, my dear. But make sure you fulfill all your other responsibilities—I hear you have zat rascal King Arthur.”

“Yeah, he's keeping me on my toes.” (And in canoes and lakes.)

She smiled and gave another light laugh. “
Oui
, he is one of Doc's favorites though. He has a soft spot for zee little goat. He is very sweet.”

I didn't know if she was talking about Doc or King Arthur, so I just nodded.

“Thank you again, Ms. Jacqueline. I'll see you Friday night—I will definitely be here. Even King Arthur won't keep me away.”

I was getting cake lessons now that Ms. Jacqueline had agreed to help me—and it didn't involve hanging anyone's underwear on a flagpole.

Sunday, June 20

10:01 p.m.

Where do I begin?

Today was the first (and hopefully last) time I ever swam with a goat. Stupid King Arthur—that's his full name—not King Arthur. STUPID KING ARTHUR.

I thought goats smelled bad to begin with, but a wet goat stinks even worse! Doc said I was taking such good care of King Arthur when he found me giving him a bath. Oh well. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

The ONLY good thing that happened was Ms. Jacqueline agreed to give me a cake decorating lesson Friday night. I just have to give up my free time in the evening, but that's a sacrifice I'm totally willing to make.

I told Pogo that Ms. Jacqueline is going to give me lessons. She is excited for me. She's a great friend and really sweet—I'm glad we're friends.

Good night.

PS Sebastian got the Distinction of Recognized Kindness award! Dreamy Dave said it was for putting aside his own science project to help another cabin mate with theirs. Personally, I bet Dreamy Dave was just glad not to hear Sebastian yell at shrubbery. He gets loud when he speaks Spanish. It was a win-win for both.