Just Like Me by Nancy Cavanaugh Page A

collage.

12
    â€œHey, Julia,” Gina said, coming into the cabin. “Wanna go down to free swim?”
    â€œUm…” I hesitated, stalling.
    Vanessa and Meredith had left a few minutes ago to go canoeing, Avery was down at the nature hut with the rabbits, and Becca was over at the archery pit. Avery and Becca had both asked me to go with them, but my hope had been to just chill out in the cabin by myself until dinner, maybe even work on Madison’s friendship bracelet. I had kind of forgotten about Gina.
    â€œC’mon,” Gina begged. “I wanna go down that slide in the deep end.”
    â€œYou know you have to wear a life jacket, right?” I asked.
    I wasn’t going to be like Vanessa and make fun of Gina for not knowing how to swim, but even so, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to free swim with the only eleven-year-old camper who still had to wear a life jacket in the deep end. I knew that made me even shallower than the shallow end of the Camp Little Big Woods swim area, but it was the truth.
    â€œSo what?” Gina said, digging in her suitcase. She pulled out her swimsuit and kicked off her flip-flops. “Nobody here at camp knows me except for Vanessa, and she already can’t stand me. So who cares?”
    Gina had a point. Who cared if I was Gina’s swim buddy, and she had to wear a life jacket? Nobody knew me either, except for Avery and Becca.
    â€œOkay,” I said, putting my journal back in my cubby and digging around my suitcase for my swimsuit. “That slide does look fun.”
    â€œBesides, both of us could use some exercise after that Newcomb game we didn’t play,” Gina said, smiling.
    I laughed.
    We changed and headed down the hill toward the lake.
    â€œSo this is your first time at camp?” Gina asked as we passed the flagpole.
    â€œYeah, but Avery and Becca come every year.”
    â€œSo why haven’t you ever come?”
    â€œThey do a lot of stuff together that I don’t do because they live in the same neighborhood and go to the same school.”
    Swimming with Gina in a life jacket was one thing, but telling her the whole story of Avery, Becca, and me was another—and it wasn’t going to happen.
    Once we got down to the beach, we found our swim tags on the board, threw our towels on a log bench, and ditched our flip-flops.
    Lots of campers were already playing around in the shallow water, and even more were out swimming in the deep end. The scent of suntan lotion and the sounds of camper chaos filled the air.
    â€œSo what about you?” I asked, changing the subject. “How come you’ve never come to camp with your cousin before?”
    â€œAre you kidding?” Gina asked. “You’re really asking me that? Vanessa doesn’t even like to breathe the same air as me.”
    â€œWhy does she hate you so much?” I asked.
    â€œBecause I’m not ‘officially’”—Gina used her fingers to do air quotes—“her cousin.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
    â€œI’m really a foster cousin,” Gina said. “Vanessa’s aunt, Ms. Lena, is my foster parent.”
    What? Gina was a foster kid?
    Now it made sense why Gina didn’t have any baby pictures when we were making our life collages.
    â€œI’ll be right back. I’ve gotta go get a life jacket.”
    Gina jogged over to the boathouse and grabbed an orange life jacket off one of the hooks. She put her head through the opening, attached the strap around her waist, and tied the strings.
    â€œC’mon, let’s hit that slide,” Gina said, jogging toward me and grabbing my arm.
    We passed the younger campers goofing around in the shallow water with small inner tubes and rafts, and we headed for the dock. We ran for the deep end, where the older campers swam and splashed, dove and jumped.
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    The lifeguard whistle stopped us.
    â€œNo