How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer

by Taryn Souders

  I grabbed a handful of paper napkins and wiped myself down. A kitchen assistant came around the corner and freaked out when she saw the mess. She made me help her mop up before I could go to the sign-up table. I pretended it was Victoria’s perfect hair I was using to smear food across the floor instead of the dingy, old mop—it didn’t make me feel any better though.

  No one was left at the sign-up tables when I got there. The cake decorating list had thirty slots on it. Slot number thirty read Victoria Radamoskovich. She’d even had the nerve to dot her i’s with hearts.

  Saturday, June 19

  Throw a Pity Party

  I stared at the four elective lists.

  Three of them were full.

  The only one left with an opening was veterinary medicine.

  A vein in my forehead started to twitch as I stood there clenching and unclenching my fists. My chin quivered and I willed the brimming tears in my eyes not to fall. They didn’t obey me and flowed down my cheeks, mixing with the dried orange juice and sticky syrup.

  I scrawled my name on the last line of the vet med list and threw the pen into the bushes. I certainly didn’t feel like playing Tacos and Burritos anymore. I just wanted to be alone, but I knew everyone was waiting for me by the lake. More than anything, I needed a shower—insects were beginning to buzz around me.

  I trudged back to the cabin and grabbed my shower caddy and towel. Luckily, since it was free time, no one else was there to hear me cry in the shower as the events of the morning sank in. I couldn’t take the cake decorating class, which meant I couldn’t work for Mrs. Peghiny, which meant I couldn’t earn money, which meant I couldn’t buy a new bike, which meant I was going to be a total dorkapotamus when school started. I pictured myself wearing T-shirts with Losers Unite scrawled across the front and hanging out under the school bleachers with other kids whose bikes dated back to their toddlerhood.

  My life was ruined—and I was only twelve.

  After I got dressed, I washed my clothes out in the sink (I didn’t want the orange juice stain to set) before hanging them up in a shower stall to drip dry. I sat on the edge of my bunk and reached to the bottom of my sleeping bag for Mr. Snuffles. Holding him through the Ziploc bag didn’t make me feel any better. I tucked him back into the sleeping bag and left to break the news to my friends.

  I found Pogo first. She was slapping sunscreen on her freckled arms as I walked up.

  “Hey, why aren’t you in your suit?” She squinted, either from the bright sun or from the fact that her glasses weren’t on. “Your hair’s wet. I know my eyesight isn’t the greatest, but even I would’ve seen you if you’d already been swimming.” She laughed at her own joke but stopped when she saw my expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t get cake decorating.”

  “What?” Her mouth flew open. She actually stopped bouncing for once. “But you were right behind me. What happened?”

  “Queen Victoria happened.” I filled her in on the details.

  Pogo stared at me. “No!”

  I nodded, and the more I told her, the redder her face became.

  “Victoria Radamoskovich is such a jerk!” she stammered out. “Did you tell Coach Fox or Director Mudwimple?”

  “No one was around by the time I made it out there. Plus, Victoria’s right. I can’t prove she did it on purpose. It’d be her word against mine.”

  Pogo put her arm around me and pulled me in for a hug. “I am so sorry. If I’d known about Victoria, I would have risked signing your name for you.”

  I scowled. “I’ll get even with her. All I need is a large bowl of mashed potatoes, a squeegee, and some duct tape.”

  Pogo raised an eyebrow. “Not really sure how those three work together, but I’d suggest not doing anything. What goes around, comes around. You don’t want to get yourself in trouble.”

  Nathan and Sebastian sloshed from the lake to where we stood on the pier and Pogo told them everything. Sebastian said something in Spanish. I wasn’t totally sure what it was, but Pogo told me later she thought it involved a slug and some salt.

  Nathan winced. “That bites.”

  His sympathy made me feel a little better.

  “So which elective did you end up with?” Pogo asked.

  I flopped my arms at my side. “Veterinary medicine. Maybe your invention idea of a new lock for King Arthur will come in handy—although you can bet Victoria’s cupcakes I won’t be choosing him for my animal.”

  Saturday, June 19

  Chuck It and Hope for the Best

  Saturday turned out to be the longest day ever. Why Doc thought a horseshoe tournament was a fun way to pick an animal was beyond me. We all met at the barn entrance after lunch to hear the rules of the game. I looked around the group and saw Charlotte the Busybody and Leslie the Nervous Wreck. Doc joined us, holding two giant horseshoes and wearing a smile the size of Texas. He had a metal stake in his right hand, a can of orange spray paint in his left, and a hammer jammed through his belt.

  “Y’all ready for this?” he said.

  We murmured something along the lines of yes. Leslie cracked her knuckles.

  Doc motioned for us to follow him toward an open pasture. “Watch out for piles of you-know-what.” He winked and led us to the center of the field. “Stay here.”

  He walked forever before taking out the hammer and pounding in the stake.

  I looked at Charlotte. “Does he seriously expect us to fling a giant metal horseshoe that far?”

  She shrugged. “I guess so. It looks like my chances of getting a horse for the week are pretty slim. Maybe I’ll get the llama instead.”

  Whenever my family goes miniature golfing, I use a technique I call the No-Aim Swing. I whack the ball with everything I’ve got. It flies through waterfalls and bushes and ricochets off fake rocks and plastic gnomes; I almost always get at least one hole-in-one. Perhaps a form of the No-Aim Swing would work for horseshoes? Maybe call it the No-Aim Fling? As long as no one was standing near the stake and might get hit, it was worth a try. Things couldn’t get much worse than being stuck with a bunch of animals.

  “My grandparents have a farm, you know,” Charlotte said, reaching down for a stick.

  “Really? Where?” I asked.

  “In Wisconsin.” She slapped at the tall grass as we waited. “They have dairy cows.”

  “Cool,” I said. “So do they make cheese?”

  “No, cows make milk—thought you knew that,” she said.

  “Very funny.”

  Charlotte smiled. “Can’t help but notice you seem a little, shall we say…tense?”

  “I’m not really an animal person.”

  “You made an odd choice for an elective then—unless you’re a I’m going to face my fears kinda girl. Are you?”

  “Well, uh—” I said.

  She flung her free arm around me. “That’s great! I’m proud of you.”

  “But—”

  She squeezed my shoulder. “Listen, I know I can come across a little bossy, and maybe I get involved in other people’s business, but it’s only because I want to help. And I am going to help you.”

  I tripped over a rock hidden by tall grass. “Splendid.”

  “What you need is accountability,” she said.

  “Accounting isn’t really my thing. Truth be told, math and I don’t get along.”

  “Not accounting, accountability.” She threw the stick off to the side. “Someone to push you—to keep you on track.”

  “Oh.”

  “That person is going to be me,” Charlotte said.

  I sighed. “I’m honored.”

  “Okay, folks, start a line here.” Doc sprayed a short line of orange paint on the ground.

  We were dangerously near a cow pie that, without a doubt, came from the world’s largest cow. It blew
my mind that Doc didn’t seem to notice the smell.

  “Here are the rules. Y’all get one chance to toss this horseshoe”—he held it up—“onto that stake twenty feet away. It’s okay if you don’t touch the stake; just get as close as you can. I’ll record your toss, and we’ll know who’s got what animal faster than green grass through a goose.”

  I shuffled into line behind Leslie and Charlotte, at the very end.

  “So what animal do you want?” Charlotte asked.

  I didn’t want any animal, yet there I was, forced to look after some critter for a whole week. I glanced at another cow pie near me and scrunched my nose. “Definitely not a cow considering Doc said we’d have to clean out their pens. Look at the size of that thing.”

  “Good point. I hadn’t thought of that,” Charlotte said.

  “I don’t want anything that’s going to ram me, butt me, step on me, or spit on me.”

  “You’ve definitely narrowed down your options. I think that leaves you the cat, the dogs, or the chickens.”

  I remembered Doc said part of our responsibilities included playing with our animal. I could handle taking care of a dog. Napoleon, my neighbor’s dog, was awesome at catching tennis balls. Cats were fine too. I knew they didn’t play much, but that was okay. I tried to picture myself playing with chickens. What would I do? Play Duck, Duck, Goose? From what I presumed of chickens, their IQ levels were slightly higher than a pancake’s. Duck, Duck, Goose would probably confuse them.

  We moved ahead in line. It was going faster than I expected. Because Doc had brought two horseshoes, one was always being tossed while the other was carried back to the line by the person who last threw it.

  Leslie the Nervous Wreck was now at the front. Charlotte and I stood behind her. Leslie gripped the horseshoe and swung her arm a couple times before letting loose. My mouth dropped as the horseshoe flew through the air and landed just inches from the stake.

  Charlotte glanced back at me, eyes wide with disbelief. “Did you see that?”

  Leslie turned and grinned at us. It was the first time since camp started that I hadn’t seen her anxious.

  “I bet she’s going to be able to have a horse for sure,” Charlotte said.

  I nodded.

  “Here goes nothing,” Charlotte muttered, side-stepping the cow patty and swinging her arm back. The horseshoe sailed and landed a couple feet from the stake. “Hey!” she spun around and started jumping. “That was pretty good!”

  “Not bad at all,” I said.

  Leslie made it back to the throwing line and handed me the Horseshoe of Doom. I gripped it. It was heavier than I imagined it’d be—about the same weight as my math textbook. Math and doom have always gone together in my opinion.

  I swallowed and closed my eyes. Just chuck it and hope for the best. I brought my arm back, took a step, and let loose with all my strength—but not before my foot landed in the cow pie and slid out from under me. My arm went over my head and the horseshoe sailed through the air—behind me.

  Charlotte ducked. “Look out!”

  Everyone scattered, and there I was again: the center of the wrong kind of attention.

  “At least you didn’t land in the poop,” Charlotte said.

  “Yeah, well, somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.” I got up and scraped my shoe along the grass, cleaning it off the best I could.

  Doc pulled up the stake and trotted to where we all stood. “Okay, folks, I’ve got the results. Are y’all ready to hear ’em?”

  No…I could do without hearing the results.

  Saturday, June 19

  Entertain a Trade

  At dinner, Victoria plopped down in the empty chair next to me.

  I stopped with my burger halfway to my mouth. “What are you doing here?”

  She took a sip of her soda, leaving a lip gloss smear on the straw. “It’s a free country. I just thought I’d join you and see how your day on the farm went.” She winked.

  Pogo shot her a glare.

  I shifted my chair and turned my back to Victoria.

  “How’d the horseshoe tournament go?” Nathan asked me.

  “About as well as it could when you slip in a pile of cow dung, fall, and throw the horseshoe behind you.”

  Nathan laughed so hard he almost fell out of his chair.

  “I’d think it was funny too if I hadn’t gotten stuck with that idiot goat. There I am, watching all the normal animals get chosen, one by one. The horses went first—no surprise there. No one wanted King Arthur. He was the only animal left.”

  “Poor King Arthur,” said Pogo.

  Victoria started humming “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.”

  I ignored her, but my face flushed anyway.

  Pogo picked up her fork and harpooned a tomato. “I saw Charlotte and Leslie chose vet med too. What animals did they get?”

  “Leslie got a horse. Charlotte got the chickens. She’s named them all after dipping sauces.”

  Sebastian snorted. “That is funny.”

  “Not as funny as your science experiment,” said Nathan.

  “What’s your experiment, Sebastian?” I asked.

  Sebastian cleared his throat. “I am going to prove Spanish is the best language in the world.”

  “Lame,” Victoria said under her breath.

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten. It was something my mom told me to do whenever I got mad—although with Victoria, I might need to count a lot higher than ten.

  I cleared my throat. “How are you going to prove that Spanish is better?”

  “Easy,” Sebastian said. “I talk to plants.”

  I coughed into my drink. “I don’t see how talking to shrubbery is going to prove anything…except that you’re nuts.”

  “Nuts have nada to do with it,” Sebastian said. “I take two sets of plants. I talk to one in English and the other in Español. The plants that grow fastest and best will be Spanish plants. Just wait, you will see.” He grinned.

  “What’s your experiment going to be, Nathan?” I asked.

  “Sea monkeys.”

  Victoria snickered next me. This time I counted to twenty.

  “What are sea monkeys?” asked Pogo.

  “They’re a type of brine shrimp. Mega-tiny—you can’t even see them unless you look superclose, at least when they first hatch.”

  “Do they actually look like monkeys?”

  “No. You basically add shrimp eggs to salt water and watch them grow. Actually, Mr. Dave already has hatched sea monkeys I can use.” He thought for a minute. “I think I want to experiment with what kind of food makes them grow the fastest.”

  I’d never heard of sea monkeys before. “What do they normally eat?”

  “Yeast.”

  Victoria sat up straight. “Well, stay out of my kitchen—you’ll have to get your yeast elsewhere.”

  I turned to her. “Why don’t you stay out of our conversation, Victoria? Plus, it’s not your kitchen.”

  She smirked. “Well, it’s definitely not yours, Goat Girl.” She leaned in and whispered, “But it could be.”

  I stared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She stood and picked up her tray. “You want to trade jobs? Find me after everyone’s asleep. And come alone.”

  During evening free time, Pogo and I sat on my bed playing War.

  “What do you think she wants?” Pogo asked.

  “Who?”

  “Victoria,” she said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “She probably wants me to do her nails or fluff her pillow each night.”

  “Just be careful—she doesn’t seem very trustworthy.”

  I feigned shock. “No! Really?”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Pogo said.

  Saturday, June 19


  Steal a Pair of Underwear

  I waited for lights-out and for everyone’s breathing to sound regular and deep. Victoria slithered down from her bunk. She opened the door to the bathroom and motioned to me. I grabbed my flashlight and followed.

  “So what’s this all about?” I asked once the door closed.

  “It’s a dare. Plain and simple.”

  “What kind of dare? Why?”

  Victoria tucked her hair behind her ear. “Mudpuddle gave me a demerit today because of a ‘misunderstanding’ at the camp store.”

  “What ‘misunderstanding’?”

  “I wanted a soda, so I took one.” She shrugged. “Mudpuddle is making a big deal out of nothing.”

  “Shoplifting isn’t ‘nothing.’”

  “I didn’t shoplift,” she hissed. “When she caught me, I told her to charge it to my account. My family could buy this camp if we wanted to.”

  “I guess having a brother who’s rich and famous has its perks after all.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  I sighed. “What does this have to do with trading electives?”

  “I want you to sneak into Mudpuddle’s cabin and take a pair of her underpants and run them up the flagpole. For the whole camp to see. And if you do this for me, I will give you my spot in the cake class.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

  I scoffed. “What if I get caught?”

  Victoria twirled her hair around her finger. “Not my problem. But if you’re successful, Mudpuddle will never know it was you. And you’ll be in the cake class, so you can get your silly little bike. You’re the only person desperate enough to try it.”

  I was desperate. I needed the cake class. I had nothing against Director Mudwimple. In fact, I kind of liked her. I was glad she had given Victoria a demerit for shoplifting. I just wish she had sent Victoria packing instead—then I could’ve had Victoria’s spot without involving Mudwimple’s underpants.