Page 6 of The Jack*ss in Class

“Please.” She bumped my shoulder. “They think you’re the best thing since sliced bread, especially since your donations mean they don’t have to spend all their time fundraising anymore. Besides, this is great publicity for them. Look how happy he is in his little outfit. But I have to ask...” She paused the video. “Why exactly did Freddie have tiny dragon wings just lying around?”

“Because it’s Freddie.” I peeked through my fingers at the screen. “Though I have to admit, they do suit him.”

“They really do.” Parker switched to another app. “Also, not to stress you out, but your book just hit number two in Italy, and your agent’s been blowing up your secure email all morning. Want me to run interference while you do damage control on the donkey situation?”

I groaned and fell back on my bed. Somedays I wasn’t sure which was harder, keeping my writing career a secret from my family and the rest of the world, or keeping my siblings from causing chaos in my carefully controlled life.

Today, it was definitely a tie.

At least I had Abuela. Except she and Abuelo had been in Mexico almost the entire year.

An hour later, I pulled my new-to-me-but-used-so-no-one-would-suspect-I’d-paid-cash-for-a-new-car - Lexus SUV - into the sanctuary’s gravel parking lot, glancing in the rearview mirror at my passenger. The baby donkey lay curled up in the back, his tiny wings slightly crooked from the day’s adventures, looking about as innocent as a donkey who’d just caused campus-wide chaos could look.

“Don’t give me that face,” I muttered. “We’re still having a talk about appropriate behavior on campus.”

But as I turned off the engine, I realized something was wrong. People were running across the yard. I could hear shouting, and was that... a geyser of water?

“Stay,” I told baby donkey, not that he would actually listen to me. I jumped out of the car and jogged toward the main barn, where water was literally pouring out the side door.

“Get the gates,” someone yelled. “The goats are loose.”

A streak of white shot past me, followed by what looked like every volunteer on staff, all trying to corral our small herd of escaped, very wet, very panicked goats. If they weren’t going by at the speed of light, I’d tell them I could relate.

“Maria?” I called out, spotting the sanctuary directoras she ran past, phone pressed to her ear, other hand gripping a bucket.

“Can’t talk—yes, I need emergency plumbing service right now—no, I can’t wait until—Trixie, grab that chicken.”

The whole scene was chaos. Water streaming everywhere, animals escaping in all directions, volunteers slipping in the mud as they tried to help. And in the middle of it all, Maria was trying to coordinate everything at once.

“Where do you need me?” I asked, already rolling up my sleeves.

Maria pressed her phone to her chest. “Tempest. Thank god. The water main freaking burst. We’ve got to clear the barn before, –no, I will not hold for your supervisor.” She went back to arguing with the plumbing people while gesturing toward a group of panicked cows.

I dove in, helping herd animals to dry ground, making quick decisions about which pens could still be used far enough away from the flooding. It was like trying to organize a library where all the books had legs and opinions.

It didn’t take long before I was freezing, soaked, muddy, and helping Trixie load chickens into her hatchback. She had a whole setup at home. A fancy coop she called the Millenhen Falcon that her fiancé had built her, though I’d never met the guy. All I knew was that he apparently thought her hilarious obsession with punny chicken names was adorable.

“Come on, Hennifer Lopez,” Trixie cooed, somehow managing to cradle three chickens at once. “Your vacation home awaits.”

I caught another escapee and passed it to her. “How many can you take?”

“As many as needed.” She settled the chickens into their makeshift travel crates. “Luke Skycocker and the girls will love having company.”

I trudged back to my car, remembering I still needed to tell Maria about the donkey’s social media debut.

She was by the fence, still on the phone, but now arguing with someone about emergency foster placement.

“No, I understand your process, but I have thirty-seven animals who need—yes, I know you require home visits, but?—"

Baby donkey chose that moment to let out a tiny bray from the back of my SUV. Maria glanced over, then did a double take at his wings.

I opened my mouth to explain, but she just waved a tired hand. “Whatever you need to do, honey. I trust you. I’ve got to figure out where to put these sheep and—no, sir, I am not being unreasonable.”

She hurried off toward a new crisis, leaving me standing there with a baby donkey who needed a place to stay and absolutely no plan whatsoever.

I looked back at him. He looked at me, those big brown eyes somehow even bigger than usual.

“Okay,” I sighed, climbing back into the driver’s seat. “I guess you’re coming home with me. Temporarily. Just until...” Until what? And honestly, where was I going to take him?

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