Just Like Me

by Nancy Cavanaugh

  I don’t think that really qualifies as the deep, lifelong red-thread connection you were hoping for.

  Julia

  6

  “Is it even legal to make something like this mandatory?” Gina asked. “Isn’t it discrimination against nonswimmers?”

  Every camper at Camp Little Big Woods stood on the beach of Lake Little Big Woods, while all the counselors held their clipboards and huddled together in small groups in the middle of the dock. I wondered if they were talking about all of us.

  “Technically, the counselors have agreed to be responsible for us while we’re here at camp,” Avery explained. “So they probably legally have to administer the swim test.”

  “Who are you? Judge Judy or something?” Vanessa snarked.

  “You are really cruisin’ for a bruisin’, Vanessa!” Becca said, making a fist and rubbing it into her palm.

  “Oh look, Meredith,” Vanessa said. “She can rhyme.”

  “Becca, just ignore her,” Avery said, putting her hand on Becca’s shoulder.

  Just then Donnie Domino’s voice came through the bullhorn. “All right, campers, for those of you new to Camp Little Big Woods, this is the Little Big Swim Test. Here’s how it works. If you think you can swim across the lake and want to try for a green swim tag, go stand at the end of the dock. If you’re not ready for the deep end, stay here on shore, and we’ll give you the shallow-water test.”

  I heard a girl near me whisper, “What if I try to get across the lake, but can’t make it?”

  Avery heard her and answered, “There’re counselors out there in rowboats. They’ll throw you a life ring if you get tired.”

  The girl’s face looked relieved, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach calm down a little. The lake didn’t look all that big, and I was pretty sure I could make it across, but I wondered if it would seem bigger once I was out there swimming.

  “Do we have to do it in a certain amount of time?” I asked Avery.

  “No, you have as much time as you want,” she said. “You just can’t look like you’re drowning, or they’ll make you take a life ring and you won’t get a green tag.”

  My butterflies calmed down completely. I could tread water for a long time, so I knew if it wasn’t a race, I’d be fine.

  “Hey, Gina, why don’t you save yourself some trouble and just go pick up a red tag from the swim board right now,” Vanessa said over her shoulder.

  Then she and Meredith giggled and headed toward the end of the dock.

  “That girl is even nastier this year than she was last year,” Avery said.

  “I wonder why she’s so mean to her own cousin,” I said.

  “Trust me, she doesn’t even need a reason to be mean,” Avery said.

  “Forget about Vanessa!” Becca yelled. “Let’s go! I can’t wait to jump off that dock!”

  Gina stood on the beach near the shallow end of the swimming area. A lot of younger campers ran around or played in the sand near her.

  “Are you coming?” I called to Gina.

  “No,” Gina said. “I’m staying here for the shallow-water test. I’ll see you later.”

  “All right,” I said. “See ya.”

  “C’mon, Julia,” Avery called from the edge of the dock. “They’re getting ready to make the groups.”

  “Good luck,” I called over my shoulder to Gina.

  She shrugged and yelled, “I don’t need luck! I need a life jacket!”

  I smiled, and Gina smiled back.

  Do you have any mementos that help you remember your adoption story?

  Dear Ms. Marcia,

  My mom made me a life book. You know, the photo album scrapbook you told the parents about during one of your agency’s adoption classes. Mom said that was where she learned how important it was for adopted kids to have a life book, so they could know “their story.”

  Mom and I looked at the book a lot when I was younger.

  She always talked about how special it was to go all the way to the other side of the world to “get me,” so I’m glad I have the book with all the pictures of my parents in China when they met me for the very first time.

  But there’s another memento—a baby blanket. It’s not really an adoption memento. It’s just that lately I’ve been pretending it is.

  While I was working on my heritage report, I looked at my life book a bunch of times as part of my research. And in the very first photos my parents took of me in China, I was wrapped in a blue crocheted baby blanket. Later, when I was a toddler, I used to carry that blanket around with me everywhere, and I slept with it every night. Once I got too old for baby blankets, I kept it tucked inside one of the pillowcases on my bed.

  Then Mrs. Fillmore assigned that heritage report, and everybody started bringing stuff to school that connected them to their past, like old handwritten letters from long-lost relatives or tattered and torn handkerchiefs and hats from the early 1900s. I started to wonder how it would feel to have something like that from my past, so I made up a story about the blanket.

  My birth mom wrapped me in a blue crocheted baby blanket and brought me to the orphanage.

  After I made up the story, I took the blanket out of my pillowcase every night before I went to bed and slept with it.

  But, as good as it felt to sleep with that blanket, it also made me wonder.

  What would Mom think of me pretending the blanket was from my birth mom?

  I just wasn’t sure. So every morning, I hid the blanket back inside my pillowcase.

  When it was time to pack for camp, I didn’t want to leave the blanket at home, but I couldn’t really bring it with me either. So I cut a piece of yarn from the fringe of the blanket and tied to it the zipper on my Bible case. That way I’d at least have part of the blanket with me while I was gone, and no one would have to know where the yarn came from. And most importantly, no one would have to know about me pretending.

  Julia

  PS If this story were really true, it would mean that I could touch something that my birth mom had actually touched, and that would be a real connection.

  7

  After dinner we were all back at our cabin putting on long pants and bug spray to get ready for the evening activity.

  “Man, that ham was bad!” Gina said. “I feel like I just ate potpourri for dinner.”

  She stuck out her tongue, as if by putting it in the air somehow the awful aftertaste would disappear.

  “I kind of like it!” Becca said. “I guess I’m getting used it after all these years of camp.”

  “Are you crazy?” Vanessa said. “It was disgusting! They shouldn’t be allowed to serve that stuff.”

  I had to agree with Vanessa. The clove-seasoned ham smelled so bad that when we walked into the mess hall for dinner, it was like we’d stepped inside a plug-in bottle of Christmas air freshener. Trying to put that ham in my mouth and chew it and swallow it was almost impossible. I don’t think anyone ate much of anything. Except Becca. She had seconds.

  “Just remember,” Avery said as she buttoned up her jeans, “the meals always get better after the ham.”

  “They have to, or we’d die of starvation by the end of the week,” Meredith said, looking at Vanessa for approval of her clever comment, but Vanessa didn’t notice because she was already on to her next complaint.

  “Can you even believe we’re having a cabin competition this year?” she whined, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. “And those ‘Be the Missing Peace’ T-shirts with ‘First Place’ printed on the puzzle piece are the prizes? What’s Donnie thinking?”

  I didn’t really know what the big deal was. A team of cabinmates or a team of random campers…either way, I wasn’t really looking forward to this whole competition thing. And it didn’t make any difference what the prize was.

  “I guess it’s ju
st all part of the ‘Be the Missing Peace’ thing,” Becca said.

  “Yeah,” Avery said. “You heard DDDJ. He wants each cabin to learn to work together.”

  “What are you, his little minion messengers?” Vanessa asked. “I heard him. I was there.”

  “Listen, Vanessa,” Becca said. “Just be thankful we’re on the same team this year. At least that way, Avery and I won’t beat you again.”

  “You little…” Vanessa said, coming across the room.

  “Hello, girls!” Tori said, pulling open the screen door. “How are my peaceful little lovelies?”

  Tori had gone from sweet Sunday school teacher to sarcastic middle school teacher in just a few short hours.

  She let go of the door behind her and said, “I hope all of you were listening when Donnie mentioned that each cabin won’t just earn points for winning competitions, but also bonus points for getting along. Getting along peacefully.”

  “Yeah,” Gina said. “We heard him, but I’m pretty sure that if Donnie were a fly on the wall in here, White Oak would already have lost a few points for unpeacefulness.”

  “Oh, that’s helpful, Gina,” Vanessa said. “Thanks for sharing that.”

  “Just watch yourselves, White Oak,” Tori said, turning to go into the counselor room attached to the big room we all slept in. “There’s a lot more on the line than just winning those ‘Be the Missing Peace’ T-shirts,” she called over her shoulder.

  “What does that mean?” Meredith whispered to Vanessa.

  “It means,” Tori answered, coming back into the big room, “that campers who can’t get along might find themselves losing more than just team points.”

  Tori went back into her counselor room, and this time she closed the door.

  “Oh brother,” Vanessa muttered. “What kind of sinister warning is that?”

  We all went outside on the porch to cover ourselves with bug spray. The sound of shhhhhhh surrounded us as we fogged the evening air.

  Vanessa and Meredith stood at the opposite end of the porch from where I was, so I couldn’t see them very clearly through the hazy cloud of chemicals, but I could hear them.

  “At least Avery and Becca are athletic,” Vanessa said. “And their Chinese sister probably is too. It’s Gina we have to worry about. She doesn’t have an athletic bone in her body.”

  “That’s going to be a problem,” Meredith agreed.

  I felt the butterflies from the afternoon swim test come back, but this time there were more of them, and they felt as unpeaceful as this cabin full of girls. Actually, it felt like the butterflies were in a big fight with each other, flapping against my stomach and trying to get out.

  “All right, White Oak!” Tori said, coming out on the porch. “Let’s head down the hill!”

  So we left the haze of bug spray behind and followed her down the hill toward our first team cabin competition.

  Dear Ms. Marcia,

  Mom always says “it’s all in your head” when I tell her that people expect Avery and Becca and me to be alike because the three of us are Chinese, but Vanessa and Meredith’s conversation is proof that moms aren’t always right.

  Julia

  PS This is one of those times when I wish moms were always right.

  8

  “Look, Meredith and I want to win this thing,” Vanessa said, trying to huddle up our team as if she was the captain. “And I don’t just mean this game tonight. We want to win the whole thing, so you guys better play your butts off.”

  All of us had made our way up the hill from the mess hall to the other side of camp. Campers stood in groups with their cabinmates, waiting for instructions at one end of the big, grassy field. The evening air was filled with bug spray and nervous excitement.

  “Why do you guys even care?” Gina asked. “I thought you said those first-place ‘Be the Missing Peace’ T-shirts were stupid.”

  Vanessa shook her head and looked at Gina as if she had just said the most idiotic thing in the world.

  “It’s not about the T-shirts!” she yelled. “We want to win, birdbrain! It’s called competition!”

  I saw a few girls from other cabins looking at Vanessa. They were probably thanking their lucky stars that they weren’t in a cabin with someone like her.

  Vanessa’s exasperation with Gina made my hands sweat. We hadn’t even started the first game, and she was already yelling. I wiped my hands on my jeans and took a deep breath.

  Tori was standing across the field from us with a few other counselors, but she kept her eye on us while she talked. Even though she wasn’t close enough to hear us, I could tell she knew we were not having a peaceful conversation.

  “All right, campers!” Donnie Domino yelled into the bullhorn. “It’s time for the Two-Legged Blindman’s Bluff Paper-Cup Bucket Brigade.”

  I wondered what in the world that was. But after Donnie explained the rules, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know because it didn’t sound easy. The only good thing was that it didn’t require a lot of skill. I hoped my lack of athleticism wouldn’t be too noticeable.

  Donnie turned the bullhorn toward the mess hall and yelled, “Music, please!” and the song “Car Wash” came blasting through the trees. Donnie danced around, waving his arms as if he were working in a real car wash while he sang into the bullhorn, “Working at the car wash, yeah!”

  Most of the campers started dancing and singing along.

  Gina really got into it and yelled, “I love this song!”

  I wasn’t sure what the song had to do with the game, other than that both the song and game involved water. I realized already that Donnie loved his music so much that he looked for any excuse to blast it.

  But Vanessa couldn’t be bothered with singing and dancing. Actually neither could Becca because the two of them were arguing about who should do what in the game.

  After a few minutes of arguing that turned into yelling, Avery finally said, “Just let Vanessa tell us what to do, Becca. Otherwise we’re going to get in trouble for fighting and lose the game before we even start.”

  “I am not letting her boss me around all week,” Becca said to Avery, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  Avery put her arm around Becca, trying to calm her down.

  And Vanessa proceeded to continue her bossing, getting all of us into the places she thought were best.

  Here’s how it ended up: Vanessa and Meredith stood back to back with their ankles tied together, and Becca and I stood back to back with our ankles tied together. Each of us held a paper cup and stood at one end of the field next to a big metal tub of water.

  Gina and Avery each held a plastic megaphone and stood at the other end of the field right next to an empty plastic bucket.

  When the “Car Wash” song ended, Donnie blew the bullhorn, and the game began.

  Gina and Avery yelled instructions into their megaphones, directing the four of us to scoop up cups of water, cross the field with them, and dump the water into our team’s plastic bucket.

  Two things made the game super difficult for everyone. First, the four people carrying the paper cups with water were not only tied to their partners by the ankles, but they were also blindfolded. Second, two people from each of the ten cabins yelled instructions to the campers crossing the field, which meant twenty girls yelled instructions all at the same time.

  “Go straight,” Gina yelled. “Straight! No, left a little. I mean, right.”

  “Are you watching where we’re going?” Vanessa screamed at Gina. “Tell us which way to go!”

  Thankfully Avery was a lot more encouraging as she yelled instructions to Becca and me. “Keep going! Doing well! Stay together!”

  Because I was blindfolded, I couldn’t see what was going on, but I could hear that when Vanessa and Meredith got off course, Gina just laughed about it, which only made
Vanessa get madder and madder and yell even louder and louder.

  “Ouch!” Vanessa screamed.

  “She ran us right into a tree,” Meredith said.

  And Gina laughed even harder.

  “Do you have a blindfold on?” Vanessa screamed.

  I wasn’t sure, but Gina seemed to be telling Vanessa and Meredith to go the wrong way on purpose, because the more Vanessa yelled, the harder Gina laughed.

  Becca and I had problems of our own. At first I walked forward and Becca walked backward, but that didn’t work because Becca walked too fast, pushing me so hard that I kept falling. That meant she fell on top of me, which meant we both spilled our water.

  Then we tried to sidestep and go down the field sideways. But we had the same problem. Becca was much faster than I was, so she dragged me along. I tripped trying to keep up with her, which made her trip, which made both of us fall and spill our water.

  At first, Becca got mad at me. “Julia, c’mon!” she yelled. “You gotta move!”

  But after a while, we fell so much that all we could do was laugh. And the harder we laughed, the more impossible it became to get back up and actually make it across the field with even a drop of water in our cups.

  I was thankful that Vanessa couldn’t see us. If she knew how much we were falling and how much we were laughing—and especially how much water we were spilling—she would’ve been yelling her head off at us.

  By the time Donnie blew the bullhorn signaling the end of the game, Becca and I had spilled so much water that our gym shoes and jeans were soaked. And when I peeled off my blindfold, I didn’t even have to look in our team’s bucket to know we probably hadn’t won.

  Vanessa ran right over to our bucket, and when she saw the half-inch of water in it, she threw her blindfold on the grass.

  “This team stinks!” she said.

  And before Meredith could even agree with Vanessa, Donnie, who was standing behind us, said, “White Oak, that’s a loss of five points for poor sportsmanship.”

  “Where did he come from?” Gina whispered to me.