How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer by Taryn Souders Page B

watching. I leaned in as close as I could to him.
    â€œBoo!” 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.
    â€œDon’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.
    â€œEasy 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.
    â€œThanks for nothing, pal,” I sneered.
    â€œNaaa.”
    I sloshed my way over to him and picked up the wet lead rope. Babysitting would be a piece of cake compared to this.
    â€œLet’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.
    â€œChloe?”
    â€œYes?” I tried to act normal, like I wasn’t soaking wet and there wasn’t a soggy goat dripping next to me.
    â€œUh, why are you and King Arthur both wet?”
    â€œWe went for a swim.”
    â€œJust now?”
    â€œYes, 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.

Sunday, June 20
    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.
    â€œI’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.”
    â€œIt was the