Just Like Me (9 page)

“And then there's Julia,” Gina said, smiling and patting me on the head like I was a puppy. “Almost perfect in every way.”

“Except for flipping out over that piece of yarn,” Vanessa said.

“Don't start,” Avery warned.

“Well, it's true,” Vanessa said.

If they knew that the yarn wasn't anything special and that I was only
pretending
it was, they'd really think I overreacted. And they'd probably think I was super weird too. So even though I was still kind of mad at Vanessa about it, I did a little more pretending and just said, “It's not that big of a deal. Sorry I got so mad.”

And we all went back to pushing the water out the back door.

Even though we had found a way to have fun as a cabin, it felt like we were on a slippery slope with an avalanche of arguments looming over us from the top of our mountain of trouble. I wondered how long our peace would last.

Dear Ms. Marcia,

I know how I started pretending about the baby blanket, but I'm not sure I know how to stop.

Julia

Once all the water was cleaned up, we still had to finish scrubbing all the pots and pans, drying them, and putting them away. By the time we put that last pot into the cupboard, my fingertips looked like raisins, my feet felt heavier than bricks, and my muscles ached like someone had used me as a punching bag.

With the flashlight we'd found under the sink in the camp kitchen, the six of us walked back from the mess hall by ourselves in the dark. The air felt cool, and if we hadn't still been wet from our water fight, it might have felt refreshing. But after being in the hot, humid dish room for hours, the chilly night air made me shiver.

It was late and camp was deserted, except for Sarge Marge sitting in the bulldog chair waiting for us.

“Well, ladies, since you like water so much, you'll be seeing a lot more of it. Tomorrow during morning activity, you'll be washing the entire mess hall floor on your hands and knees,” Sarge Marge said. “It will likely be just as exhilarating as free swim, which is what all the other campers will be doing while you're making that floor sparkle.”

This was not good news. The mess hall was
huge
, and the floor in the mess hall was disgusting. I would rather swim in the shallow water with a thousand life jackets on during morning free swim than wash that floor.

“Sleep well, ladies.”

But as terrible as the news was, we were almost too tired to comprehend it. Today had been a killer day, as Becca would say—the soccer game, the cabin argument, the water fight, and now the filthy mess hall floor to look forward to in the morning.

Inside the cabin, we peeled off our wet shorts and T-shirts and let them lie right where they landed on the sandy concrete floor. I knew our clothes would smell by morning if we didn't hang them up, but none of us cared. We all jumped into our pj's and were zipped up in our sleeping bags faster than Becca had gotten her first penalty in the lane soccer game that afternoon.

Even faster than that, steady sounds of sleep filled the cabin, but my tired body wasn't strong enough to put my restless thoughts to rest. I grabbed my Ms. Marcia journal and my flashlight and ducked inside my sleeping bag.

Dear Ms. Marcia,

I don't want anyone to know what I've been pretending with the blanket because if I told the truth, I might have to confess to everything I've been pretending.

Like, that on nights when I lie awake in bed with my blanket, I sometimes whisper things to my birth mom. Things I wish I could tell her about me. Things I wish I could ask her about herself.

And even though I don't ever wonder if my adoptive mom loves me (that's a question I don't have to do any research to answer), I do wonder what she would think about all this pretending.

Julia

PS I wonder if my birth mom ever pretends anything about me.

“I never realized how big this place is,” Gina said as we all looked at how much mess hall floor there was to clean.

“I never realized how
gross
it is,” Vanessa said, flicking a piece of pancake with the toe of her sneaker.

“Well, we gotta somehow get it done,” Gina said. “You heard Sarge Marge.”

Sarge Marge had told us that if we didn't have the floor done by lunchtime, we'd spend the afternoon finishing the floor, and then she'd find something else for us to clean. Something
bigger
, she had said. We didn't know what was bigger than the mess hall, but we didn't want to find out.

“Technically I think this could constitute as child labor,” Avery said. “I bet if we took photos and posted our story online, we could get a judge to uphold that in a court of law.”

“Zip it, Avery!” Becca said.

“Let's just make a plan and do it,” I said.

“All right,” Vanessa said. “Let's first sweep and then scrub. Gina, you and Julia can start sweeping over in the far corner.”

Vanessa picked up the buckets Sarge Marge had left for us and said, “Meredith and I will go in the dish room and get some water.”

“Becca and Avery, go find a dustpan and meet Julia and me over in the corner,” Gina said.

And with all the jobs assigned, we turned into little worker bees and attacked our punishment like it was our full-time job.

Gina and I swept all the food scraps into piles. Pieces of pancakes, bits of scrambled eggs, dirt, sand, a shoelace, the back of an earring. Each pile was more disgusting than the last. Thankfully, Gina and I weren't the ones who had to reach down and brush that junk into the dustpan. Becca and Avery were doing that part, and they were having an awful time. Avery tried to hold her nose while doing it, which really wasn't possible.

“C'mon, Avery!” Becca said. “It doesn't smell
that
bad!”

Gina and I smiled at each other, then looked the other way and kept sweeping.

As soon as we had a big enough section swept and cleared, Vanessa and Meredith came over with their buckets and scrub brushes and got right down to it. We all stuck with our jobs and tried to make progress as quickly as we could, but every time I felt like we were making headway, I looked around and saw how much more floor there was to clean.

It was getting hot in the mess hall, and I could tell everyone was already sick of this whole thing.

After a while Vanessa said, “We better figure out a way to get along and stop arguing, 'cause I'm not doing this again.”

She leaned back on her heels and pushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn't look as much like a fitness model as she had on the first day of camp.

“Well, maybe if you stop yelling at everyone, we won't have to clean anything else,” Gina said.

“Don't blame this all on me!” Vanessa snapped as she dunked her scrub brush back into the bucket. “Your new little friend, her missing piece of yarn, and her trigger-happy finger aren't exactly innocent.”

The butterflies returned to my stomach. Was this really all my fault?

But then I thought about all the other things our cabin had fought about since we'd gotten to camp, and I knew I wasn't the only reason we were washing the floor.

Not wanting my missing piece of yarn to become the new topic of conversation gave me courage to speak up.

“You guys,” I said with one hand on my hip and the other one resting on the broom, “we gotta just get this done like we did the dish room last night. And then we have to
stop
fighting.”

“But last night it was just water. This morning it's leftover mystery meat. Yuck!” Avery said, flicking an unidentifiable piece of food off her finger as she scraped another dustpan full of camper compost into the trash.

I sighed and put both hands back on my broom.

“Look, Julia's right. The faster we get this done, the faster we get out of here, and more importantly, Sarge Marge won't give us another job to do,” Becca said.

Avery looked at the clock on the wall. “We've got an hour and ten minutes left before lunch, so let's just all keep doing what we're doing, and maybe by some miracle we'll finish on time.”

We worked without talking for a while, until Becca moaned, “My back is killing me!”

“We need something to get our minds off scraps of food and aching backs,” Avery said. “Why don't we ask each other questions? You know, like some sort of trivia game.”

“I'm not doing trivia,” Vanessa said. “You'll probably want to ask questions about math or science or something.”

“Why don't we sing?” Gina said.

She stood up and went over to the sound system, and before any of us could stop her, she pressed Play on the iPod attached to the stereo.

The song “YMCA” began to play.

“Gina,” Avery said over the music. “We don't want to get into more trouble.”

But Gina ignored her and sang into the end of the broom handle like it was a microphone. We all laughed, and the next thing we knew, all of us were dancing, singing, and cleaning to the Village People.

It made the work go so much faster and was way more fun. After we made it through one song without getting into trouble for using the stereo, we danced, sang, and cleaned to three more songs before we heard the screen door creak open. We looked up to see Sarge Marge standing in the doorway.

Gina made a mad dash for the stereo and killed the music as quickly as she could, but Sarge Marge didn't look mad. She actually looked impressed as she walked around examining the floor.

“Have to admit, ladies,” she said. “I didn't think you could do it. And with a little time to spare,” she continued as she looked at her watch. “Put the brooms and buckets away, and skedaddle out of here for a few minutes of fresh air before lunch.”

It took less than a millisecond for us to follow her instructions. The brooms and buckets disappeared, and we headed toward the door.

“I'll be watching you, ladies,” Sarge Marge called after us, as we stepped outside. “And I know all I'll be seeing from each of you is nothing but peace, right?”

“Yes, ma'am,” we all mumbled over our shoulders as the screen door slapped the door frame behind us.

Dear Ms. Marcia,

I've made up my own Camp Little Big Woods proverb:

The peace of a cabin is like an invisible tightrope stretched across a canyon.

I wonder if White Oak will be able to cross that canyon without falling into it.

Julia

The six of us sat on the railing of the mess hall porch waiting for the bullhorn to sound for lunch. Clusters of campers stood around the open area outside the mess hall waiting for the same thing. Some played tetherball. A few others played four square. And a bunch just stood around talking. We knew it was only a matter of minutes before we'd hear “We Are Family” blasting from the outdoor speakers and calling everyone to line up.

“Does anyone want to play four square?” Vanessa asked.

“Too hot,” Avery said, waving her hand in front of her face to cool herself off. “I really wish I'd brought my fan.”

“Too tired,” Meredith said, leaning her back up against the porch post.

“Man, you're not kidding,” Vanessa said, stretching. “I didn't think we'd ever get done.”

“We probably never would have finished if Gina wouldn't have turned on that music,” Becca said.

“Yeah, that really helped pass the time,” Avery said.

“I'm surprised Sarge Marge wasn't mad about it,” Meredith added.

“I think she was just glad the floor got clean,” I said.

A breeze blew through the maple trees surrounding the mess hall, and the air cooled my sweaty neck. Avery wasn't the only one who thought a Chinese fan would feel nice right about now.

“Hey, what's DDDJ writing on the camp news board?” Avery asked.

We all looked toward the edge of the flagpole circle where there was a big whiteboard under an awning.

“Let's go see,” Vanessa said.

We all climbed down from the railing and headed toward the flagpole.

Donnie was using different-colored markers to write: Egg Emergency. Water Balloon Relay. Four Fruit Hop Relay. Basketball Tournament. Rowboat Relay.

“What's this, Donnie?” Avery asked.

Donnie turned around. “Well, if it isn't my peaceful princesses from White Oak. Or maybe I should call you girls the Cinderellas?”

“Very funny,” Vanessa said.

“How's the mess hall floor lookin'?” he asked.

“A lot better than it did before,” Gina answered.

Donnie pointed to the board.

“This,” he said, “is what's in store for the rest of the week in our camp competition. There are just enough events left for teams that got off to a rough start, like White Oak, to have a chance to win one of these babies.”

He turned all the way around and stretched out his “Be the Missing Peace” T-shirt.

Just then Sarge Marge sounded the bullhorn from the porch of the mess hall, and right on cue the speakers blasted “We are Family.”

“See you later, Cinderellas!” Donnie said as he danced his way toward the mess hall.

“Cinderellas!” Vanessa sneered to the five of us. “The camp director shouldn't be calling us names.”

“Oh, be quiet, Vanessa,” Avery said. “You're the last person who should be talking about calling people names.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Vanessa snarled like she was ready for a fight.

“Didn't you guys learn anything from doing dishes and washing the floor?” Gina asked. “No. More. Fighting.”

Looking at Donnie's list written in different-colored markers on the board made me think of Mrs. Fillmore. She always wrote instructions for us on her whiteboard in different colors like that, and at the bottom of the board she always wrote the same thing:
If you know where you're going, you'll always be more likely to get there.

Donnie had just told us where we were going in the camp competition, and I wondered if that could help White Oak to get where we wanted to go: first place in that competition.

“You guys,” I said, “I think White Oak just got a big break.”

“What are you talking about?” Meredith asked.

“This list,” I said, nodding toward the camp news board, “
and
our dish room and mess hall duty might just be our ticket to those first-place T-shirts.”

“Julia, maybe you got water in ears last night in the dish room, and now it went to your brain,” Vanessa said. “Or maybe you're delirious from all the manual labor. Because you're not making any sense.”

“These are all the events for the competition, right?” I asked.

“Yeah?” everyone said.

“So what?” Becca asked.

“So, doing well in these events is the way to victory.”

Everyone still looked like they had no idea what I was talking about.

So I kept talking, “Cleaning the dish room and the mess hall proved we can work as a team. And now we know what things we need to be able to
do
as a team. If we use our teamwork and practice what's on the list, we might just be able to win.”

“No way,” Vanessa said. “There's too much stuff some of us aren't good at.”

She looked right at Gina.

“That's why we have to practice!” Avery said, getting excited. “I think it's a great idea! Besides, nobody's going to goof around during the games anymore. Right, Gina?”

“Right,” Gina said, saluting Avery.

“And no one's going to scream at people if they make mistakes. Right, Vanessa?” Avery said, looking at Vanessa. “That goes for you too, Becca and Meredith,” she continued, turning to look at them before Vanessa even had a chance to answer.

“I
would
really love to take home one of those first-place T-shirts,” Vanessa admitted.

“Yeah, let's do it, Cinderellas!” Gina said.

“
Don't
call us Cinderellas!” Vanessa said.

“Okay, how about
sisters
?” Becca yelled.

Then she sang with the music: “I got all my sisters with me.” And she linked arms with Gina and me.

Then Avery sang, “We are family. C'mon, everybody, and sing.”

She linked arms with Vanessa and Meredith, and we all danced our way to line up for lunch. I wondered if we'd be the kind of sisters who got along or if we'd be more like the stepsisters in
Cinderella
who fought and bickered all day, every day about every little thing.

Dear Ms. Marcia,

If I had someone who really was like a sister to me, I bet it would feel good to tell her the truth about the yarn I lost. And I bet she'd want to hear about how sometimes I wrap the baby blanket around my shoulders like a shawl and look at myself in the mirror and think about how my round cheeks, my almond-shaped eyes, and my really long eyelashes probably make me look just like my birth mom.

Julia

PS It feels like I should be able to tell Madison things like this. I tell her everything else. But everyone always talks about how much Madison looks just like her mom, so I don't see how she could ever understand why I do all this pretending.