of killing her for a hoax, so I don’t really think it’s appropriate for you to act high and mighty right now.”
“You take her back then.” Ishmael stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest.
My head pounded with rage. I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself to calm down. I’d never understood violence. I’d never been in a physical fight, not even a small tussle. It seemed so counterproductive. But at that moment, I desperately wanted to punch my brother in the face.
“Fine,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll take the cow back. But don’t ever ask me to do something for you again.”
The rope Ishmael used to lead Muffin to our house still hung around her neck. I grabbed the end of it and tugged gently. Muffin didn’t move. I pulled harder. Still nothing. I dug my feet into the ground and pulled with all my strength. The cow swayed slightly, but her feet didn’t shift an inch.
“She’s really heavy,” Ishmael said.
My heart already pounded from exertion. “Yes, I noticed.”
“If she doesn’t want to move, you won’t be able to make her.”
“You managed,” I said.
“I told you,” Ishmael reached out and rubbed Muffin’s head. “We bonded.”
Indeed, Muffin did tilt her head toward my brother, seeming to lean into his affection.
“Can’t we keep her?” Ishmael asked.
“Where?”
He looked around dramatically. “I don’t know, Gideon, maybe on our farm.”
I gazed up at the sky for a long moment. When I spoke again, I’d slightly regained my composure. Slightly.
“Okay, Ishmael. Let’s walk through this. First of all, you have no idea how to care for a cow. Second, this cow doesn’t belong to you. Third, how exactly would you prevent Mother and Father from discovering we’ve mysteriously acquired cattle?”
“Not cattle. Just one. One… What’s the singular for cattle?”
“Cow.”
“But cows are only girls. Isn’t there a word that isn’t for a girl or boy?”
“I don’t think so, Ishmael. I don’t know. I’m not really well-versed in livestock.”
“What about livestock? Can you have one livestock?”
“Ishmael!”
He continued to pet Muffin thoughtfully while I tried not to have a complete meltdown. The cow’s big, brown eyes rolled toward me. Her gaze felt accusatory. Possibly hostile. Even animals liked Ishmael more than me.
Most animals, anyway. As my brother and I stood there, Kepler sidled around the side of my lab, tail swishing. He stopped abruptly when he saw us. Apparently, Kepler’s dislike of most living creatures included cows. Once he got over his surprise at Muffin’s presence, he ran very suddenly toward her, hissing.
The cow backed away and let out a strangled moo. Kepler yowled in response and swiped in her direction.
And then the worst possible thing happened: Muffin the cow—who had a makeshift leash dangling from her neck but wasn’t tethered to anything—took off running. (Cows are often thought of as slow, plodding animals. That’s inaccurate. When they want to, cows can move.)
Muffin raced across the field at a speed of at least twenty miles per hour. The average human can run twenty miles per hour. I wasn’t the average human, but my brother was. He probably could’ve run faster than that, due to his time on the track team. Ishmael should have been able to catch up with Muffin.
But for a full five seconds after she bolted across the yard, he stared after her, stunned. Finally, he sprang to life, flying after Muffin, shouting her name as he went.
I nudged Kepler toward the lab, avoiding his still-extended claws. Then I watched Ishmael chase the stolen cow across our property. Muffin gained more and more ground. I was thankful she’d run away from the house instead of toward it.
Soon, the cow reached the tree line and disappeared into the woods.
Ishmael stopped running. He bent over and put his hands on his knees, his body heaving as he sucked in air. I made my way across the field.
“I wasn’t fast enough,” he said, gasping, once I was within hearing range. “I’ve just…doomed Muffin to death, probably.”
“I think that’s a bit of a leap.”
“You think she’ll be able to survive in the woods, all alone?” Ishmael snapped. “She doesn’t know how to hunt.”
“She wouldn’t be hunting, being that cows are herbivores. The word you’re looking for is forage.”
“You know what I mean.”
“She ran in the direction of O’Grady’s farm. Maybe she’s going home.”
“You think so?”
I hesitated. I wished I was the kind of person who could lie and insist everything would be okay in the end. I did my best anyway.
“I’m sixty-three percent sure Muffin will find her