How to (Almost) Ruin Your Summer Read Online Free

pincushion.
    â€œOh my word! That was the craziest thing ever!” Pogo said. “You okay?”
    â€œNaaa.”
    I turned to the goat. “She wasn’t asking you, moron.”
    The goat shook his head and then leaped over a rotted tree trunk and disappeared through some bushes.
    I patted myself down, searching for blood or bones sticking out.
    â€œStupid goat.” I dusted myself off. “Someone ought to put that animal on a wall. What kind of place allows a goat to run around and ram campers in the rear end?”
    Pogo busted out laughing.
    I didn’t find it quite so funny. At least Pogo was the only one who saw. “Let’s just get to the mess hall before a herd of cattle stampedes through here.”
    Rounding the path, we came to another gigantic log cabin. A wooden porch wrapped around the sides. Several campers sat in rocking chairs. Others sat on benches scattered around or leaned against the porch railing. I half expected a sign out front to read Country Store , instead of Mess Hall . Surprisingly, this sign had all its letters.
    The mess hall sat at the top of a steep hill.
    â€œC’mon, let’s check out the view from the railing,” I said.
    A few feet from where we stood at the railing, the ground took a sharp dive, eventually leveling off near a building far below.
    â€œHoly cow! Look how crazy that drop is!” Pogo said, leaning over the rail.
    I joined her. “Man! Imagine sledding down that during the winter.”
    â€œWe call that Mess Hall Hill—there’s a ravine on the other side you need to stay away from.”
    I turned.
    Director Mudwimple grasped a glass of iced tea in her chubby fingers. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, prompting wisps of gray hair to coil. With the curls framing her face, she looked like Mrs. Claus more than ever. She took one look at me, and her free hand flew to her chest, while her other hand—the one holding the iced tea—sloshed its contents onto the wooden planks of the porch.
    â€œGood gracious, dear! You look like you lost a barn brawl!” She pulled a twig and a couple of pine needles out of my hair.
    Pogo snorted.
    I dodged away from the iced tea that was swinging toward me. “Uh, about that. We were walking along a trail and—”
    â€œOh, that’s wonderful, dear.” She smiled wide. “We have many beautiful trails here. I hope you explore all of them and absorb the beauty of nature.” She gestured widely and sloshed more of her tea onto the ground.
    â€œBut a goat—”
    â€œOh yes.” Director Mudwimple nodded rapidly. “We have goats. We also have horses, cows, and chickens—all sorts of animals here at camp.”
    I gave up trying to tell her about the attack goat roaming the property. I sighed and gestured with my head. “So what’s that building at the bottom?”
    â€œThat’s the kitchen for the culinary arts—the cake decorating class,” she said.
    â€œThere’s a separate kitchen?”
    â€œSure is, sweetie.” She waved her arm toward the mess hall as if showcasing a prize in a game show, spilling the rest of her drink. “This mess hall kitchen operates pretty much all day long. There’s no room or time for y’all to be in here learning the fine art of frosting cakes! Do you know which elective you’ll choose?” She stopped to take a sip of her tea and seemed surprised to find it empty. Then she turned her attention back to me. “When time comes to pick your elective, don’t wait too long to make up your minds. There’s a limited numbers of openings for each class. They fill up fast.” She turned to talk to some kids next to us, not even waiting for our responses.
    I shook my head. “Do you think it’s the heat that makes her loony, or is she just like that?”
    â€œMaybe she has ADHD,” Pogo suggested.
    â€œCan adults even have