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SECRET AGENT BONKEY

TEMPEST

" M ija, please tell me you’re taking more business classes than those literature classes your papá talked you into.”

I adjusted my laptop screen, buying time before answering my mother. The wi-fi at the remote clinic where she was stationed for the Doctors Without Borders mission was sketchy at best, but her disapproval came through in perfect HD.

“Literature is my major, Mamá.” I held up my planner, showing her my color-coded schedule. “Ves? I’m still taking all the practical classes you wanted. Including a minor in business marketing, just like you suggested.”

“Ah, yes,” Her whole face lit up. “At least that’s something useful.”

My stomach gurgled even though I wasn’t the least bit hungry. What I needed here was a subject change. “How is Papá’s book coming along?”

“He works at that tiny desk in the camp office for hours. Something about the Shakespearean histories and their political relevance to modern humanitarian crises.” Her expression softened. “He reads me passages in the evenings. I don’t understand half of it, but it’s nice having him here.”

She laughed, and then her face shifted to one of amused disdain.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. One of the nurses from Boston brought the most ridiculous book with her. Some trashy romance novel based on—you won’t believe this—a Shakespeare play.

The Taming of the Shrew , but with a hockey player and the coach’s daughter.

Can you imagine? Your father and I had quite the laugh over it during dinner. ”

My spine turned to stone. My book. The one that had been a huge break out, changing my whole life. Publishing it was supposed to just be for funsies. But then it hit several best seller lists and poof, there went my carefully planned life.

“Sounds... interesting,” I managed to say while my insides went all spikey and sharp.

“Interesting? It’s absurd.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“If you’re going to adapt the greatest playwright in history, at least do it with some dignity.

Your father was appalled at how they butchered his beloved text.

Though I must admit, he stayed up late reading it, purely for academic critique, of course. ”

Oh, yes. Mamá could diagnose and treat any medical condition, but she’d never understand pursuing literature for its own sake rather than as a stepping stone to something practical.

“How terrible,” I managed. “That he’s not getting enough sleep, I mean. ”

“You would never do such a thing, mija.” She beamed at me.

“I raised you to be smarter than that. Speaking of which, how are your law school applications coming along? The program at Georgetown has an excellent focus on international law. Or, with your literature background, you could specialize in intellectual property, something practical with your oh-so-useful liberal arts degree. I’m sure you could get into the law school at DSU como tu hermana. "

Ah, yes, the be more like your successful older sisters part of the conversation. Great.

A loud bang saved me from having to answer. My bedroom door flew open, revealing my roommate, Parker, in all her purple-haired, caffeinated glory.

“T, you have to see this. You’re not going to believe what your—” She froze, spotting my laptop screen. “Oh, sorry Dr. Navarro. Didn’t know you were having mother-daughter time.”

“Parker.” Mamá’s smile turned slightly strained. “How lovely to see you. Still studying... computers?”

“Cybersecurity,” Parker corrected cheerfully. She flopped onto my bed, making my laptop bounce. “But I’m branching into ethical hacking. Way more fun.”

I bit back a smile. Parker knew exactly how much that kind of talk bothered my mother, which was precisely why she did it. It was also why she was the perfect person to help keep my literary alter ego safely anonymous online.

“How... innovative.” Mamá’s lips pursed. “Tempest, mi vida, I should go. I’ve got a surgery consult. But think about what I said about DSU. And please do something with your hair before you go anywhere today.”

I resisted the urge to touch my messy bun, which was the easiest thing to do with all my hair. It was a Saturday for goodness’ sake. “Yes, Mamá.”

“Good. Don’t forget to call your abuela on Sunday. Te quiero.” The screen went dark before I could reply. I was saved from her seeing my eyeroll. I talked to Abuela more than I did anyone else in the family.

“Dude.” Parker sat up, already pulling out her phone. “You need to see this. Freddie just made you FlipFlop famous.”

“What?” No, no, no, no. The horrible sensation of spiders crawling up and down my spine, underneath my skin shivered through me. I grabbed her phone. We’d worked so hard to keep everything about my books anonymous. How had Freddie found out? “Can you take it down? How many people know who I am?”

“Calm down, your secrets are still safe and secure.” Parker’s grin was evil.

“Freddie just filmed your unnamed donkey friend, put him in a Dragons jersey and tiny wings, and set him loose at the scholar-athlete rally. Where he was chased across campus by half the football team. Including Flynn Kingman.”

I just about collapsed with relief. “I already knew that. Don’t scare me that way.”

The video started playing. There was my sibling, looking way too pleased. There was the baby donkey, his little wings flapping as he ran. And there was Flynn Kingman, DSU’s golden boy, vaulting over a bench like some kind of romance novel hero.. .

Not that I would ever read romance novels. Or write them. Or had possibly just outlined a scene eerily similar to this for my next book.

“I’m actually going to kill them this time. I’m going to kill them and that kid Isak,” I muttered. “Then you for scaring me half to death that someone had found out.”

“You can’t.” Parker was still scrolling. “You love me and she’s your special little she/they enby. IDK about Isak. Also, this is comedy gold. Look, someone set it to the Chariots of Fire theme. Oh, and there’s a remix with?—”

“Park.” I dropped my head into my hands. “The sanctuary is going to fire me when they see this. Then what am I going to do to keep my therapist happy?”

She’d told me to get a hobby to keep my anxiety at bay. All work and no play and all that. I would admit, cuddling baby animals did seem to keep my panic attacks at bay.

“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. Some days 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 director as 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.