How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer by Taryn Souders

in there. Have you seen all the spiders? It’s like they’ve tripled in number since the first day.”
    â€œIt’s not that bad. I know you have this thing about spiders,” Charlotte said, “but they’re just daddy longlegs. My little brother told me when you rub the belly of a daddy longlegs, it smells like bubble gum. You should try it—maybe it’ll help you get over your fear of spiders.”
    I glared at her.
    â€œOkay, fine.” She smiled. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
    I puffed my cheeks out. “Thanks, but I might as well get used to it, since I’m stuck with that animal all week.” I turned away from the coop and started toward the barn. I called over my shoulder. “I’ll just grab a broom and sweep out the webs the best I can.”
    Charlotte jogged to catch up with me. “There isn’t much left of the broom. Someone left it a little too close to King Arthur’s pen yesterday and he ate most of it.”
    â€œFigures,” I said. “That goat is more trouble than he’s worth.”
    The broom was just a tiny handful of chewed-up bristles attached to an equally gnawed-on wooded handle. It reminded me of the time my friend Jireh’s little brother cut the hair on one of her Barbie dolls. I picked up the broom—or rather what was left of it.
    â€œStupid goat,” I muttered.
    Charlotte walked over to where King Arthur stood in his pen, mindlessly nibbling his way through a pile of hay. She leaned over the gate and rubbed his head. Near the front of the barn, someone started up the lawn tractor, the engine roaring to life. King Arthur jumped and fell right over in a faint.
    Charlotte snorted.
    â€œOh brother,” I said. I fumbled with the gate lock. But before I could get it open, King Arthur stood, shook himself, and went straight back to eating. “Wow, Doc wasn’t kidding when he said their faint only lasts for about ten seconds.”
    â€œHave fun with that animal of mass destruction,” Charlotte said. “I’m headed back out to clean the McNugget coop.”
    â€œOkay, let me know if you need help with anything.”
    I stuck King Arthur in his paddock; then, using the broom, I swept every inch, from the top of the wall to bottom, clearing away any cobwebs. I saved the grossest thing for last—the goat poo. That couldn’t be swept. It needed to be shoveled into a bucket and taken outside to a special poop trailer. Once it’s full, it’s attached to a tractor and the poop can be spread evenly in the pastures as fertilizer. I took the broom back to the supply wall and hung it up. When I turned around, I ran into Leslie.
    â€œHey, how’s your horse this morning?” I asked.
    â€œShe’s great. I just groomed her, and I’m about to muck out her stall.” She grabbed a lead rope from the wall. “We’re supposed to put them in the west pasture, right?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. I put King Arthur in his paddock while I swept out cobwebs.” I picked up a shovel and bucket. “After I de-poo his stall, I’ll move him back inside and then de-poo the paddock.”
    Leslie scrunched her nose. “Yeah, at least his poo is small. I’m not looking forward to cleaning out Sunset’s stall.”
    â€œTrust me, small poo is the only bonus.”
    I went back to King Arthur’s stall. After fifteen minutes of maneuvering my way through the land mines of poop, I decided even Doc would approve. I dragged the full bucket out of the stall to the poop trailer and dumped it. I took my time—I was in no hurry to get back to His Royal Poopiness. When I eventually made it to his stall, I stopped dead in my tracks.
    The paddock gate was ajar. King Arthur was nowhere in sight.
    Charlotte walked by holding a chicken, cooing to it.
    â€œHave you seen him?” I said.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œKing Arthur!” I ran