Just Like Me (3 page)

Tori came bouncing back into the cabin a few minutes later.

“Be the Missing Peace!” she said, sounding more like a cheer captain than a camp counselor.

Instead of her Camp Little Big Woods T-shirt, she now wore a T-shirt that had a picture of a puzzle piece on it. Inside the puzzle piece, bold, chunky, colorful letters spelled out “Be the Missing Peace!”

“This is our camp theme this year,” she explained, stretching out her T-shirt to be sure we all could read it.

Then she sat down on the edge of Becca's bunk.

We all sat on our own bunks in our swimsuits, slathered in so much bug spray and sunscreen that I was almost woozy from the smell of it.

We all stared at Tori like she was missing more than a few pieces.

Avery broke the silence with, “I think it's interesting to choose a homophone for a camp theme.”

“I think it's interesting that you're talking about homophones when this isn't language arts class,” Vanessa said sarcastically.

Meredith smirked, and Becca pressed her lips together like she wanted to break Vanessa into a million pieces.

Tori looked a little worried that at this very first all-important cabin meeting, the White Oak campers were not growing together like the peaceful, happy white oak trees right outside the cabin window. I wondered if instead of explaining the camp theme of “Be the Missing Peace” to all of us, she wished she was actually
missing
this entire session of camp. Or maybe she just wished all of
us
were missing it.

“Why don't we read this year's camp verse, II Corinthians 13:11?”

I guess Tori's strategy was, if all else fails, read something from the Bible, but I wasn't sure that was going to make much difference with this group.

“Julia, you have your Bible there. Why don't you read the verse?”

We all had our Bibles out, so I don't know why she picked me. Maybe because I looked the most peaceful since I wasn't getting ready to punch anyone at the moment.

I pulled on the piece of blue yarn that was attached to the zipper on my Bible case, opened it, and looked for Corinthians. I found the verse and read it.

When I finished, Tori asked, “So, how will all of you ‘be the missing peace' while you're here at Camp Little Big Woods?”

She was trying so hard to make this a superspecial moment for our cabin. But no one said anything, not even Avery.

“Well, you might all want to give it some thought,” Tori said, “because I have a feeling it may be quite a challenge for you girls.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, and I'm pretty sure Tori saw her because faster than I could blink, that happy-kindergarten-teacher look changed to a strict-school-principal's look.

“Let's head down to the lake,” she said, still sounding sugary sweet, but her voice didn't match the look in her eyes. I had a feeling Tori was a lot tougher than any of us thought.

Dear Ms. Marcia,

I think Tori probably hoped we would all be perfect little puzzle pieces that fit together to make one big, happy picture of a peaceful cabin. But I don't see how the six of us are going to fit together to make one big, happy anything.

I know you hope to write about how Avery, Becca, and I went off to camp and discovered a connection that runs deeper than all the red threads in China, but the only way that's going to happen is if I need Avery and Becca to protect me from mean and nasty Thing 1 and Thing 2, better known as Vanessa and Meredith of White Oak.

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

Julia

“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.

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 just 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
un
peacefulness.”

“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.