“How’s that poison ivy working out for you?” I said. “The rash still looks bad.”
“Nothing a little makeup can’t handle.”
“I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t wear makeup if you have poison ivy on your face,” said Pogo. “But maybe you could ask your mom to send you something from Europe—the stuff over there is more natural anyway.”
I looked at Pogo. I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of Victoria’s constant comments about her mom being in Europe or just trying to be helpful. Pogo was a genuinely helpful, nice person, so she was probably making a good suggestion.
Victoria sneered at her. “Well.” She adjusted the tray in her hands to scratch her neck and leaned in. “At least I have a mom.”
Our table went dead quiet. Pogo’s mouth fell open. Nathan dropped his fork, and Sebastian stared at Victoria as he slowly slid his chair back. He probably would’ve started hurling one insult after another in Spanish, but at that exact point, I squeezed the ketchup bottle with such force that the ketchup shot a fry straight off my plate and onto Victoria.
And I kept squeezing the bottle.
All over Victoria’s face.
And I remember Victoria howling like a big baby.
Oh, and Victoria’s plate of mac and cheese somehow ended up on my head.
We both were sent to Director Mudwimple’s office.
“Sit!” Director Mudwimple’s tone undoubtedly turned her sweet tea into cough syrup.
Victoria plopped onto the metal folding chair and immediately slid off—apparently ketchup is slippery. I, on the other hand, stuck to my chair. But then again, macaroni and cheese is a starch.
“Perhaps one of you can explain what on earth happened! You were both just in here this afternoon!” Director Mudwimple barked. Clearly, she was more than a little perturbed. Her face was bright red, but I was willing to bet it had nothing to do with running around or the heat of the evening.
“She started it!” Victoria said, pointing at me.
“Did not!”
I was going to keep Pogo’s name out of this. I didn’t want Director Mudwimple to think she was involved and give her a demerit. She’d been a little too demerit-happy lately. “It was an accident. The ketchup bottle was jammed—sort of.”
“I don’t care who started it. Food fights in the mess hall, or anywhere else for that matter, are prohibited. You will both be on kitchen patrol for the next three days. And you each have another demerit.”
Victoria gasped.
Director Mudwimple shuffled around some papers on her desk until she found her clipboard. She glanced down. “Victoria, you will have the after-breakfast shift, and, Chloe, you will take the after-lunch shift.” She tossed the clipboard back onto her desk and peered over her spectacles at us. “Understand?”
I slouched in my chair. “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered.
Director Mudwimple sighed. “You owe each other an apology.”
Victoria opened her mouth in protest, but Director Mudwimple held up her hand in silence. “Like I said earlier, Victoria, it doesn’t matter who started it. I think you two need to have a long talk with each other. This incident is finished, and we’re going to forgive and move on.”
“Sorry, Victoria,” I said flatly.
She rolled her eyes. “Me too.”
Director Mudwimple stood and opened the door to her office. “Now please get yourselves cleaned up.”
Victoria stomped out the door. Director Mudwimple tapped me on the shoulder as I followed. “Chloe,” she said, then looked at her hand and wiped it off on a napkin before continuing. “Mindy, tells me your bed is near Victoria’s. I want you to move to a different bunk.”
My shoulders dropped. “Do I have to?”
“I think it’s best if you and Victoria gave each other some space—at least for the next couple days. Your cabin’s not full—there’s room for the change.”
“Can’t you just move Victoria to a different cabin?” I pleaded.
Director Mudwimple folded her hands and rested them on her desk. “I could, but I am of the belief that we should fix our problems, not run away from them.”
Running away from problems seemed like a perfectly good option to me, but arguing was pointless—adults always won arguments. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And, Chloe?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful. You’re at four demerits—and in record time I might add.”
I decided to shower before moving my things over—I didn’t want to be dropping chunks of mac and cheese into my sleeping bag or suitcase. By the time I got clean and into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and dried my hair, the lights were already out in the cabin. I felt my way to my bed and gathered up my sleeping bag and pillow. Then, I made my way to the empty bunk near Mindy’s bed, stubbing my toe on Victoria’s dumb makeup box in the process. I flicked on my flashlight and went back for my suitcase.
I reached down to the bottom of my sleeping bag for Mr. Snuffles and brought him up, along with my journal. I held him close, grateful he was with me.
Monday, June 21
8:54 p.m.
WORST DAY EVER!!!! (and I mean it this time)
Camp Minne-BOO-HOO is dumb and Victoria is the WORLD’S BIGGEST DRAMA QUEEN!
How many things can go wrong in one day? I mean SERIOUSLY!?!?!?
Things that went wrong today:
#1 Victoria got poison ivy and blamed me.
#2 Director Mudwimple found out about the chicken I hurled at King Arthur. She gave me another demerit. At least she doesn’t know about the underwear…yet.
#3 I got in a food fight with Victoria after she said something horrible to Pogo. I got another demerit, but THIS ONE was worth it. I guess I’m at four demerits!!
At this rate, I don’t know if I’ll make it through camp without being kicked out. I’ve never been kicked out of anything before (except for that time in Girl Scouts). I would die multiple deaths of embarrassment.
I can’t believe Nathn saw me with mac and cheese all over my head. I am so embarrassed! If he didn’t think I was dork after the whole swimming with a goat incident, I’m sure he does now, after the food fight with Victoria. Ugh!
Sebastian and Nathn were both saying how wicked smart Pogo is with science. She was showing Dreamy Dave something with transistors, and even he was impressed. I feel really bad that I lied to Pogo about Victoria wanting me to hook her up with Nathn. But if I tell Pogo about sneaking into Mudwimple’s cabin, she might think I’m a thief (which I am ).
’Night.
PS On a side note, when King Arthur does kick the bucket, he’d look great hanging on the wall in the Registration Office next to the llama.
PPS The kindness award went to Callie Morse. She’s in the vet med group with me. She got it because she offered to clean out a horse stall for Leslie, who wasn’t feeling well. Considering the size of horse poop, I’d have given her the award too!
PPPS I saw Ms. Jacqueline and Doc Mulholland kiss today! She brought a plate of cookies up to the barn, and he kissed her—on the LIPS!! He was hanging out with her in the kitchen too—they are always together.
Thursday, June 24
Pour Yourself a Glass of Sea Monkeys
By my third day of kitchen patrol, I realized dish-washing duty would’ve been a better definition. After lunch, I went behind the serving counter and loaded Hobart—the ginormous dishwasher the size of an elephant. To keep my clothes dry, I wore a bright-yellow apron that was rubbery and heavy.
I was almost done loading the last rack when Ms. Jacqueline came into the kitchen and filled her arms with various ingredients to haul down to her kitchen.
“Ms. Chloe, before you go to your duties at the barn, would you mind please bringing zat five-gallon tub of chocolate frosting that’s in zee walk-in refrigerator? My hands are full, an
d we will need it for zee cakes we are making today.”
I nodded. “Sure. I’m almost done here.”
“C’est excellent! Be careful; it is very heavy. You might want to use zee dolly to roll it down. By zee way, I am looking forward greatly to our lesson on Friday.”
I smiled. “Me too!” I would gladly cart twenty tubs of chocolate frosting down Mess Hall Hill for Ms. Jacqueline if she wanted me to.
By the time I finished, all the other kitchen helpers had gone to their afternoon electives. Despite the fact I had been surrounded by water for the last hour, I was dying of thirst. I grabbed a clean glass and walked to the counter near the cook’s office. Earlier, I had noticed she kept a pitcher of water there. I poured myself a full glass and gulped it down. It tasted funny, but I was hot and sweaty and didn’t care.
The steam from Hobart had turned my hair into a frizzy style I thought could only be achieved if I stuck a fork into an electric socket. A mirror hung on the wall above the counter, and my reflection could’ve turned Medusa to stone. I gathered my hair up into a ponytail and was securing it with a hair tie when Nathan walked in.
“Hey,” he said. “You look hot.”
Act cool.
“Ha-ha,” I said.
He winked. “How was KP duty?”
“Well, I get a lot of time to myself and an hour-long steam facial each day. What more could a girl ask for?”
“For what it’s worth, I think Victoria had a face full of ketchup coming the other night. If you hadn’t squirted her, I sure would have. She’s a creep.”
Be still my heart. “Thanks, but I didn’t mean to squirt the ketchup on her—at first. I just didn’t realize how angry I was getting, and then”—I shrugged my shoulders—“I couldn’t stop squeezing it.”
He chuckled.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the science lab, working on your experiment?”
“I had to get away from Sebastian. Everywhere I go, I hear him shouting at shrubbery. Besides, I needed to check on my sea monkeys.” He gestured toward the back.
“Your sea monkeys are here in the kitchen? Isn’t that against some food safety rule?”
“They’re not in the actual kitchen. Cook said I could keep the ones who are being fed hard-boiled eggs near her office. Since the fridge in the science lab is broken, I have to keep their food up here. I just bring my clipboard and make notes.”
“Oh. So what have you discovered so far? Do they grow faster with the yeast or the eggs?”
“It’s still kinda hard to tell,” he said, looking down at his notes. “They’re so small, and I haven’t compared them side by side yet. Wanna see them?”
“Sure!”
I followed him to the back of the kitchen, near Cook’s office. He stopped at the counter and bent over to take a look at an all-too-familiar-looking pitcher.
I swallowed. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. “Nathan?” I burped. “I think I just drank your sea monkeys.”
Thursday, June 24
Roll, Roll, Roll Your Goat
“You drank my science experiment?” Nathan’s voice wavered. Then he laughed. “That’s so awesome!”
“I think I’m gonna be sick.” I placed my hand over my mouth and sank to the floor. I hugged my knees and glanced up at Nathan.
He lifted the pitcher in the air and searched for survivors. “Maybe there’s enough left to still do the experiment.”
“Am I going to die?” I whimpered.
Nathan rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a dork. They’re just shrimp—think of it as eating sushi. Only you drank it instead.” He laughed.
“I’m really sorry, Nathan.” I slowly stood and leaned against the office doorway. “I didn’t know there were sea monkeys swimming around inside. I thought you said they ate hard-boiled eggs—there aren’t any egg bits floating around! You should have a sign on it or something.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“There aren’t any egg bits because I remove the uneaten pieces each night. It’d stink otherwise. Of course, had I known you were going to drink it, I would’ve left some egg in there as a warning.” He snorted again.
There was no way in the world Nathan would ever like me now. In his eyes, I’d always be the girl who ingested his science experiment. He’d probably want nothing to do with me.
“Do you want me to go with you back to the science lab and talk to Dave?” I asked. “I’ll tell him what I did, that it’s my fault.”
Nathan shook his head. “Nah. I’ll tell him—he’s got more anyway. I just hope there’s enough time for me to redo the experiment.” He bent over to examine the pitcher once more. He looked at me. “So, how’d they taste?”
I punched him in the arm.
Nathan grabbed a sheet of paper from Cook’s office and wrote, “DO NOT DRINK,” on it. He taped it to the pitcher and headed back to the lab.
I wanted to go back to the cabin and just forget the whole day, but I still needed to bring Ms. Jacqueline her frosting. I searched the kitchen for the dolly but couldn’t find it anywhere. Earlier, I had noticed a wagon near the trash cans next to the storage shed out back—that’d work. I might look dorky pulling a wagon full of frosting, but there was no other way to get something that heavy down the steep hill to the cake decorating kitchen. Taking a deep breath, I heaved the tub onto my hip and kicked the back door open with my foot. I felt my way down the three steps leading to the dirt path.
The wagon was next to the trash cans for an obvious reason. At a closer look, it was more rust than anything. I carefully lowered the frosting into the wagon. If I stuck to the sidewalk, it would be a smoother ride and the wagon might not rattle into a pile of rust dust before I got to the bottom.
I leaned over to grab the handle and realized I was still wearing the dish-washing apron. I took it off and tried to enter through the back door, but it had somehow locked behind me. I’d have to go in through the front of the mess hall.
I rounded the corner and came face-to-face with King Arthur.
Perfect. Pogo couldn’t finish that tracking device soon enough.
I was not in the mood to deal with him. My patience for the goat was tinier than Nathan’s sea monkeys.
Indiana Jones knew what he was doing traveling everywhere with a whip—he never knew when he’d need it, but he had it when he was in trouble. I needed to start traveling with a lead rope and halter. Only right now, all I had was the dish-washing apron.
I inched forward, holding the apron in front of me. If I could slip it around King Arthur’s neck, it could work as a leash to haul him back to the barn.
“C’mon, man. I’m the one who saved you from the lake, remember?”
“Naa.”
King Arthur galloped forward and leaped over the tub of frosting, clipping it with his hind legs. I scurried backward as the lid flew off and the tub toppled out of the wagon. King Arthur was undeterred. Squealing, I threw the rubber apron at him. It landed on his head, but he still kept charging. He looked like a superhero with his yellow cape of justice flapping in the breeze—only, in reality, he was a maniacal goat wearing a dishwasher’s apron. As his head rammed into my leg, I desperately reached for anything to hold on to to keep from falling backward down Mess Hall Hill. The only thing I could reach was…King Arthur.
If I’m going down, you’re going down with me. I grabbed hold as we tumbled head-over-hoof down the steep hillside in an alternating pattern.
Goat.
Apron.
Human.
Goat.
Apron.
Human.
That is, until the half-empty tub of chocolate frosting lost the battle to gravity at the top of the slope and caught up with us in our rapid tumble down Mess Hall Hill.
Goat.
Apron.
Huma
n.
Chocolate frosting.
Goat.
Apron.
Human.
Chocolate frosting.
When we finally rolled to a stop, we were a mixture of chocolate frosting, grass, dirt, and goat hair.
I was so dizzy I was seeing double. Two goats stood and shook themselves. They simultaneously wobbled around for a few seconds, then trotted off, still wearing my dishwashing apron. I wasn’t sure which goat was the real King Arthur. Apparently, his work here was done. He had succeeded in knocking me down the steepest hill at Camp Minnehaha. Granted, I don’t think he intended to go down it himself, but a victory is a victory.
I pushed myself to a sitting position as Ms. Jacqueline and the whole cake decorating class poured out the door and dashed to where I sat, spitting out blades of chocolate-flavored grass. I was covered with frosting from my head to my toes, smelled like a goat, and my stomach was churning—although that could’ve been because of the sea monkeys. I sat there. I wasn’t sure what else to do. There was a rumbling in my ears that I attributed to the fall, but then, three seconds later, the wagon shot past me, crashed into a pine tree, and disintegrated into a mushroom cloud of rust dust.
• • •
I tried to drown my sorrows in an extra helping of banana pudding for dessert that night. When that didn’t work, Pogo suggested a game of War during evening free time. We sat on my bunk and Pogo took my jack, king, and a ten in a single battle.
Sighing, I tossed my cards down in disgust. “This whole day sucks. How ironic is it that the one animal I hate is the one I’m stuck with?” I said. “That goat is a total moron.”
Pogo looked sympathetically at me and laid down another card. “I bet you’ll feel better about the whole thing tomorrow. You’re probably just tired and, dare I say, a little grumpy.” She raised her eyebrow at me.
“Ever since King Arthur destroyed Mr. Snuffles, I’ve had a hard time falling asleep. I think it’s because the plastic bag makes too much noise.” I shook my head with a slight smile. “That sounds so pathetic—even to me.”
How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer Page 10