How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer (6 page)

Assume Sign-Ups Will Be a Piece of Cake

The first week at Camp Minnehaha flew by faster than King Arthur could roll down a hill, eat an elephant, or dodge a chicken. Pogo and I spent all our free time together. Every once in a while, we'd spy Director Mudwimple driving the camp golf cart around the grounds, sometimes with a leash in one hand and sometimes with an iced tea. I was pretty sure I knew which animal the leash was for. Even though I didn't have any more run-ins with King Arthur, there were times when bushes would move and leaves would rustle for no apparent reason, and I would grab the closest stick to defend myself.

The only break from the miserable heat we had was the cool lake. The floating dock was by far our favorite thing—mainly because of the Taco and Burrito Wars. A group of campers (usually the sports jocks) would swim the gigantic dock out to the middle of the lake, and then we'd divide into two teams, Tacos or Burritos. We spent the whole time pushing the other team off the dock. It was King of the Hill, only with Mexican food. Pogo and Sebastian always picked the Taco team. Nathan and I were always Burritos.

It was also during the first week that I confirmed I'd never be a veterinarian. In my opinion, animals were nothing but trouble. The thought of spending a week at a barn was not my idea of fun. Plus, there were way too many spiders there. And I don't mean small ones—I mean the kind that turn around and glare at you when you step on them.

Moreover, during one of the trail rides, I'd overheard Doc telling Pogo about all the math classes he took in college. Any profession with that much math was not going to float my boat.

I also discovered which horses were Footloose and Road Rage. Footloose should've been named Lose-a-Foot. He treated campers' feet the same way I wanted to treat spiders—he smashed them. He'd purposely wait for some innocent, unsuspecting person to walk up to him and then
whammo
! He'd slam his hoof down on their foot. He did it every time.

Road Rage was generally a pain in the rear end (and everywhere else for that matter). He didn't like going on trail rides. He would either try to scrape his rider off by rubbing against every tree we rode near, or he would take off down a trail until Doc could catch up, grab the reins, and lead him back to where the rest of us waited.

I just didn't see myself working with animals as a profession anytime soon…or ever for that matter.

I also ruled out any professional sport whose equipment involved a ball. I could play a decent game of HORSE back home, but at Camp Minnehaha, my special basketball moves weren't appreciated.

We had learned some awesome things from Ms. Jacqueline, but definitely not enough for Mrs. Peghiny to let me handle the cupcake portion of her ice cream parlor. I wasn't worried though—once I signed up for the cake decorating elective and had Ms. Jacqueline teaching several hours a day for a whole week, I'd be ready.

As the first week ended, our instructors took a few minutes during their sessions to tell us what we'd be doing if we chose their elective for the following week. At the science lab, Dreamy Dave, as Pogo and I secretly referred to him, got our attention by blasting music from the Beach Boys.

“Yo, check it!” he said. “Tomorrow is Saturday, and you will choose which awesome instructor you want to have for your elective. If you dudes and dudettes decide to stick to science, I guarantee a slammin' time!”

“I'm sticking here!” someone yelled.

“That's awesome, bro.” Dave continued. “In the science lab, you'll work on your own experiment throughout the week. When your parents come next Saturday night, we'll put on a science extravaganza so they can see the craziness you've been up to!” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Peace out!”

I summed up our choices over dinner. “The vet med people get their own animal for a week, the sports jocks will have a tournament, science does a science fair, and Ms. Jacqueline already said the cake decorating group will make the desserts for the grand finale banquet.” I turned to Nathan. “Which elective are you going to take?”

“I think I'll go for the science lab. I've got an idea for an experiment.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Nathan leaned back in his chair with his hands locked behind his head and grinned. “I'll tell you once I know my spot in the lab is set and we've started. I don't want anyone stealing my idea.”

Sebastian chased a tomato around his plate with his fingers. “I bet your idea is not as
bueno
as mine.”

Pogo turned to him. “You're doing science lab too?”

“
Si
—yes. And you?”

“I'm also picking science!” Pogo said. She seemed extra jittery—I guess she was thinking about the sign-ups tomorrow. Her right leg started bouncing up and down and knocked the table. We all grabbed our drinks to keep them from toppling over.

“What experiment are you going to do?” I asked her.

“Don't know yet,” Pogo said but then scowled. “I think I want to invent something though. Maybe a new type of lock for King Arthur's stall—that should be a piece of cake.”

Sebastian looked puzzled. “You will be giving a goat a piece of cake?”

Nathan laughed. “No. ‘Piece of cake' means it will be easy.”

I shook my head. “That animal is a whole basket of crazy.”

“
But
he is cute,” Pogo said. She nibbled on a fry. “He has those floppy ears and that blank expression—it's like he always needs a hug or something.”

“You mean something like a brain?” I suggested. I was still furious with him for eating Mr. Snuffles and earning me a demerit.

“Oh, don't pick on him,” she said. “He's confused, that's all.” She banged the underside of the table with her leg again.

I grabbed my drink. “Well, I'm going for cake decorating. Mrs. Peghiny said if I took the class and did well, she'd pay me to decorate cupcakes at the parlor—then I can buy a new bike.” Since Nathan and Sebastian were from the same town as me, they knew how awesome Peghiny's Ice Cream Parlor was.

“Mmmm…I want a piece of that pie,” Nathan said.

“What pie?” said Sebastian.

I shook my head. “No, Sebastian—Nathan means he wants in on the action. He probably thinks I'll sneak him some extra dessert from class, right, Nathan?” I winked.

Nathan nodded. “You know it!”

Sebastian furrowed his brow. “So there's no pie or cake?”

“Nope.”

“How you say…bummer?”

“Yep, it's a bummer.” I pushed my chair back and grabbed my cup. “I'm going to get more soda. Anybody else want some?”

Pogo handed me her cup. It was bouncing up and down with the rhythm of her leg.

Nathan looked from Pogo to me. “You know that's like giving a Mountain Dew to a squirrel, right?”

Pogo looked at him. “What do you mean?”

Nathan shook his head. “Never mind.”

Friday, June 18

9:01 p.m.

I'm so nervous. Tomorrow we pick our electives. I HAVE to get cake decorating!!

Pogo,
Nath
n
, and Sebastian all want science. Sebastian is getting confused with the English language (again). Pogo loves his accent—it is pretty cool.

I broke my hairbrush today just trying to brush my hair—I hate humidity. I had to spend the extra money Mom and Dad sent me to buy a replacement brush—I wanted candy bars.

Pogo tried to cheer me up by telling me her dad once told her there's a verse somewhere in the Bible where a man compliments his true love by telling her she has hair like a flock of goats! What kind of compliment is that?!?! My hair looks more like a flock of goats ran through it. Still…it made me laugh.

Anna is still running around doing whatever Victoria tells her to. Yesterday, she even put toothpaste on Victoria's toothbrush so it'd be ready for her when she got out of the shower.

Victoria calls Director Mudwimple “Mudpuddle”—not to her face of course! Ha-ha! She'll never win the Distinction of Recognized Kindness award if Director Mudwimple hears that.

Charlotte complained to Mindy that Marcie's snoring is keeping her up at night. For me, it's the crackling plastic bag Mr. Snuffles is in—but I still want him near me.

I'll just die if I don't get my elective.

Good night.

Make a Mess in the Mess Hall

I had a plan to make sure my name got on the cake decorating list. I figured my best bet that morning was to sit with my friends at a table near the front doors of the mess hall, skip eating breakfast, and be ready to move fast.

So while Nathan, Sebastian, and Pogo ate their eggs and pancakes, I sipped on OJ and waited for Director Mudwimple to tell us what to do. I wouldn't have been able to eat even if I had wanted to with my stomach churning the way it was.

The anticipation of sign-ups obviously didn't have much of an effect on Nathan's and Sebastian's appetites. They were having a contest to see who could cram the most food into their mouths in a single bite. Pogo jittered in her chair, cheering on Sebastian as he finished off his last three strips of bacon.

“That was a piece of pie.”

Nathan shook his head. “Dude, the saying is a ‘piece of cake.'”

“Does type of pastry really matter?” Sebastian asked.

Pogo laughed at them and then turned to me. “Do you feel okay? You aren't eating.”

“I'm fine. I'm just nervous about choosing our electives. Remember Mindy said cake decorating fills up fast.”

“Don't worry—I'm sure we'll both get what we want.” She harpooned a piece of pancake onto her fork.

Nathan slapped Sebastian a high five as he folded an entire pancake in his mouth.

I shuddered. “Why do guys think that's an accomplishment?”

“Wana-pla-tahtoh-n-barritos-witus?” Nathan mumbled.

“I can't understand you when you talk with your mouth full of food.” I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Plus, it's gross.”

Nathan swallowed the pancake and washed it down with a tall glass of milk. “I said, ‘Do you want to play Tacos and Burritos with us?'”

I looked at Pogo and she nodded.

“Count us in,” I said, “but
after
sign-ups.”

Director Mudwimple climbed onto the stage, gripping the microphone. Within moments, it was so quiet you could hear a napkin flutter to the floor. “After you're done eating, take your breakfast trays to the dish counter and unload them. The front porch is about to be pressure washed, so go out the
back
doors. There, you will find four tables, each with a sign-up sheet. Write your name under the elective you want. Your first choice may fill up right away, so please have a second option in mind.”

She waited for the murmurs and whispers to stop before she continued. “If you don't get the elective you want and can find someone who is willing to trade with you, you may do so. But there will be no trading after tomorrow morning. And under no circumstances may you sign up a friend. If we see you do that,
you
will not get your elective.”

Coach Fox stepped up next to her and took the mic. It was only eight thirty in the morning, and he already had sweat stains on his shirt. “Also, if you do not clean off your breakfast tray, you will not get the elective you sign up for…and we have ways of finding out who doesn't clean their tray.” He stared at us silently before continuing. “You'll have free time until lunch, so we can organize classes and get prepared for you hooligans. You're dismissed.” He didn't really need the mic, but I think he liked being loud.

It was every man for himself.

The frantic smacking of dishes onto trays and chairs scraping against the floor filled the mess hall. Squealing and noisy chatter got louder and campers mobbed the dish counter to stack their dirty trays before bum-rushing the back door.

I grabbed my glass. “C'mon!”

Pogo threw her silverware and cup onto her tray, seized it, and followed.

I kicked myself for picking the table closest to the
front
of the mess hall. The door to the back was already jammed with campers—I knew I needed to move fast and get back there.

I wiggled and squirmed my way through the crowd to the tray counter. Pogo was a couple feet behind me.

“Hurry!”

At least half of the campers were already stampeding out the back door. I made it to the counter and tossed my juice glass down. I turned around to look for Pogo. She'd also found a clear spot and was unloading her plates.

“Almost done!” she yelled.

I spun around and crashed into Queen Victoria. A splash of her juice landed on her white polo. She looked down at her shirt and then scowled at me. “Watch out,” she sneered.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't know you were right behind me.”

“Just look where you're going.”

I looked over her shoulder. More kids were leaving through the back.

Pogo jogged past and motioned for me to follow. “Meet you at the lake in a few minutes!”

“I gotta go, Victoria. I'm sorry I bumped you,” I said, moving to the side.

She rolled her eyes at my apology.

I dodged around her, but before I could pass, her foot slipped out in front of me and I fell flat on my stomach.

“Oops,” she sang.

I rolled over and looked up at her as campers stepped around me.

One corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk. “Sorry. You really should look where you're going.”

I clenched my fists. More campers scurried past me to the door—I was wasting time.

“Forget about it,” I said, standing up.

Her fork fell from her tray. She smiled sweetly. “Can you pretty please get that fork? My hands are full.”

I rolled my eyes but bent down to pick it up.

Seconds later, orange juice, bits of pancake, maple syrup, and eggs oozed down my head and splattered on the floor.

Victoria snickered. “Oh. I. Am. So. Sorry.”

I scrambled up and stared at her, heat surging through my body. “You did that on purpose!”

“Prove it.” She plopped the tray on the counter and crossed her arms. “Oh, and you really should wash out that shirt. Our housekeeper says orange juice can stain if it's left on clothing too long.” She gave me one last smirk, turned on her heel, and walked out the back door.

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.