Horse Camp by Nicole Helget Page A

so moved by the Spirit working in him that his forehead would get real sweaty and his hair would stick to his face? Mother, please call him and say you’re sorry! Please. Please. Please. I don’t think you understand how important this is to me.
    Love,
    Penny
    Dear Daddy,
    I haven’t heard from you in a while. I know you are very busy with the new church building.
    I believe Mom is ready to ask you for forgiveness. I think she’s realized that she caused the disintegration of our nuclear family and wants to put it back together. I think that if you called or visited her, we could put all this behind us. Timing is very important. The devil is here on our uncle’s farm. I am sure of it. Some sinful things are happening that require your immediate attention. I pray really hard to keep the evil at bay, but I am only twelve and am not sure that I have your strength as a holy person.
    Blessings in Jesus’s name,
    Penelope

Chapter 7
Percy and June Bug
    J UNE BUG used to bug me, but she doesn’t as much anymore. I thought early on she had a crush on me, which would’ve been annoying and something I’ve had to deal with before. When I was in foreign lands and the only white boy running around, I think girls just liked me because I looked different. Exotic , or whatever the word is. Now that I’ve been around June Bug for a couple of weeks, training chickens together, I can see she’s more into the chickens than boys, at this point. Fine by me! We’ve got some serious work to do before we show them at the fair.
    â€œYou gotta wash ’em three days before the show so you get ’em clean but they still have enough time to get their natural oils back,” says June Bug, looking over the flock.
    Pauly’s over in the corner of the henhouse, running at the chickens and then skidding to a stop, which makes them start clucking and flapping around. “Hey,” I yell. “Knock it off, Pauly! We don’t want them flapping their wings or spazzing out at the judges.”
    Pauly does it again and almost steps on Carl, an old banty rooster who’s too slow to get out of the way.
    â€œPauly!” I shout. “Leave Carl alone!”
    June Bug grabs my arm. “It’s okay, Pers. He’s just a kid.”
    â€œHe’s an idiot!” I say.
    â€œAh, just leave him be,” she says. She pats me on the back and smiles. Before I know it, I smile back. Like I said in the beginning, June Bug seemed bossy, a lot like her mom or Penny, but lately, she’s been pretty cool. She’s about the only one around here who doesn’t yell at me, and she is fun to play with. Like play catch, you know, or play tag, or work, or whatever. Not like play “house” or anything.
    â€œToday we need to pick the ones we’re gonna show and check ’em for diseases and stuff before we wash ’em,” June Bug says. “You want to pick first?”
    â€œNah, you go first,” I say.
    June Bug shrugs and walks over to a group of ten or twelve chickens all pecking at the ground. Pauly’s got Carl cornered and is shuffling his feet at him. Nobody wants to show Carl, anyway. He looks like some of the straggly chickens we used to see in Africa or the Philippines. That’s probably why Pauly likes messing with Carl—reminds him of home.
    June Bug bends down and gently gathers one of the bigger chickens into her arms, cradling it like a running back who just took a handoff. The chicken clucks once and is quiet. She brings it over to the table where we’ll do our washing business.
    â€œLooks pretty good,” I say.
    â€œHe’s all right,” says June Bug. “I left the tamest, best-looking ones for you and Pauly. I’ve done this before, and half of showing is just letting your birds know you’re calm, and being confident about your overall chicken knowledge when the judge asks you questions.”
    She looks her