Minerva Clark Goes to the Dogs by Karen Karbo

summer
vacation
for a reason.”
    â€œLose the tone. Now.”
    â€œSorry.” I dropped my fork on my plate and folded my hands in my lap. I wore a pair of baggy blue jean shorts. If I had any scabs on my knees, I’d have been fiddling with them, but mostly we modern children do not have many scabs. We are the Knee and Elbow Pad Generation.
    â€œI’m serious, Minerva. You cannot lie around all summer IMing your friends.”
    â€œI am not lying around IMing my friends. That’s actually impossible anyway. I have to sit at my desk to IM my friends.”
    Quills snorted. “She got you there,” he said. Quills drank his entire glass of milk straight down. He loves to make trouble, just because.
    I didn’t know where this conversation was going, but my Spidey sense was telling me it wasn’t good. Myenchiladas were getting cold. Plus, the fact was, once Kevin got home, I was planning on IMing him every possible minute I could.
    â€œI’ve gone ahead and signed you up for a class at Kid-academy,” said Mark Clark.
    â€œWhat kind of a class?” I asked. I couldn’t believe these words were coming out of the mouth of my most cool brother. He signed me up for a
class.
In
summer.
Mark Clark didn’t play bass guitar in a rock band like Quills, nor was he a junk food vegetarian college student and philosopher like Morgan, but nestled deep inside Mark Clark, next to the nerd and ultra-responsible almost-dad, was the person who truly remembered what it was like to be my age.
    â€œWhat class!” I squawked.
    â€œYou might enjoy it,” said Morgan, who had been quiet during the entire meal. He was wearing his orange and black ear flap hat and eating the radishes out of his salad. He was always in favor of taking some dweeby class.
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œI said you might,” said Morgan. “There’s no law that says that your brain has to shut down for the summer.”
    â€œI’ve signed you up for basic electronics,” said Mark Clark. “Have an open mind.”
    â€œBasic electronics!
Basic electronics!”
Having an open mind was exactly what I was not going to do. I intendedkeeping it shut as tight as an unopened pickle jar. I was mad. My scalp was getting all hot underneath my hair.
    I wasn’t sure what you might learn in a basic electronics class, but it sounded too geeky, even for me. And I am a geek. I have a ferret named Jupiter. I collect rebuses. I don’t care too much about clothes or makeup. (Although I don’t mind a little dark blue eyeliner now and again. I also have been known to paint my toenails.)
    I put my hands together and begged Mark Clark. I whined like I’m not supposed to. I could smell the spicy bad body odor of the boys in the class already, see their smeary glasses and mossy teeth.
    â€œPlease,” I said. “I am not going to lie around all summer IMing. I promise. Most of my friends won’t be around to IM anyway. They’re going to summer school and stuff. I’ll sign up for the library read-a-thon program. I’ll … I’ll eat broccoli for every meal. I’ll take out the garbage without being asked. Please.” The more I begged, the more frantic I got.
    Mark Clark carefully cut his enchilada with the side of his fork. He shoveled up a bite and placed it in his mouth. He chewed slowly. I could tell there was no way I was going to get out of this. “It won’t kill you. And I think you might—”
    â€œDude, do
not
say ‘get a charge out of it,’” said Quills.
    Mark Clark shrugged and kept eating without looking up.
    â€œAll right. When is it?” I asked, pushing away my plate. I’d hardly eaten anything.
    â€œSaturday mornings. It won’t kill you.” Mark Clark didn’t tell me to eat my enchiladas, which prevented me from totally despising him.
    â€œTomorrow’s Saturday,” I