Like Bug Juice on a Burger (14 page)

I visited the Wall of Feelings that afternoon

and read other girls’ pieces.

Which were so
enthusiastic.

“Camp Wallumwahpuck rocks!”

a lot of them said.

And

“I
never
want this summer to end!”

“I
love
this place!”

“Camp Wallumwahpuck is
heaven
!”

Why can’t
I
love camp?

I thought,

reading all of that.

I was glad I hadn’t signed my name

on my own negative pages.

I hoped no one could tell they were mine.

I kept reading and reading

until finally

I found one other piece

that was negative, too.

It said:

“I don’t care what everyone says—

I don’t love this camp.

But I don’t need to love it.

I just need to survive it.”

I read that piece

again and again.

And started feeling better.

I wished that girl had signed
her
name.

I wished I could meet her.

I don’t need to love this place,

I told myself,

walking away from the wall.

I just need to
survive
it.

I can do
that.

Only,

I might have to start stealing rolls.

Camp went by faster after that.

I saw the director sometimes, on her golf cart.

She always waved at me,

and I always waved back.

But I never asked to go home.

Not even after I got a bug bite on my eyelid,

and my eye swelled half-shut.

I quit some activities because

of that bug bite.

Like archery.

Because it’s dangerous to shoot a bow and arrow

with one eye swollen half-shut.

I still had to go to swim lessons, though.

And,

after our seventh lesson,

our teacher tested us

to see who could move on, beyond Guppy.

I worked so hard during that test

to breathe just right

and show my teacher a strong kick.

I was determined, too,

to tread water the longest.

And I did it!

I pedaled a bike very slowly,

just like Joplin had taught me,

and outlasted all the other Guppies.

Only by six seconds.

But still.

I did it!

“Congratulations,” my teacher said to me

after I’d swum back to the dock.

“You are officially an Angel Fish.”

My whole cabin was hovering

when she said that.

Because I’d told Joplin about the test,

and she’d told everyone else.

They all jumped up and down

and cheered for me.

Then Hope shouted,

“To the trampoline!

No life jacket

for anyone!”

We all ran and leaped into the water together.

I loved sinking

deep, deep underwater

and kicking my way to the top.

Instead of bobbing on the surface like a duck,

in my diaper.

Then I raced with everyone else through the water

to the trampoline ladder.

I wasn’t the first to arrive.

But I wasn’t the last, either.

And that felt good, too.

As soon as I’d climbed up,

Joplin grabbed my hand.

And we

STOMPED

for each other again; and we

SOARED,

first one, then the other, again,

high into the sky.

Later,

after changing into dry clothes,

I had an idea.

I explained it to Joplin,

and she said she’d help.

We gathered what we needed

and went outside.

I slipped my backpack onto my shoulders

and hugged my thin sleeping bag

and stood in front of my small, white cabin.

The way my mom had stood in front of hers,

so long ago.

I smiled,

thinking about my surprisingly nice day.

And Joplin took my picture.

I knew I wouldn’t look as happy as my mom did

in her picture.

I knew she really loved Camp Wallumwahpuck

and thought it was beautiful

and had never written an Esmeralda letter.

I knew she’d probably had a million happy days

at camp.

Still,

I liked having one

of my own.

On the very last morning of camp,

Joplin took a pen

and wrote her Brooklyn phone number on my hand.

“You have to come over,”

she said.

“My apartment is not candy-free.”

I wrote my number on her hand, too.

And we promised to visit.

Soon after that, my parents arrived.

Right away,

my dad threw his arms around me

and lifted me in a big hug,

right off the ground.

“Oh, how you’ve grown!” he said,

setting me down.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

My mom hugged me, too,

and looked at me close.

“So gorgeous!” she said.

“How long have you been this gorgeous?”

“Forever,” I said.

We both laughed then.

Because that was just ridiculous.

And because we were happy.

Both of my parents thanked Hope

for taking care of me.

She smiled her pretty smile and said,

“It was my absolute pleasure.”

Then my dad said to me,

“We’re not leaving

until your mom and I meet your goat.”

So I walked them to the barn.

When we passed the tetherball poles, my mom said,

“I used to love that game!”

“Let’s play!” I said.

I reminded her of the rules,

and we played a long, fun game

that she eventually won.

Because even though I’d grown,

she’s still a lot taller.

After that we kept walking.

We passed Braces Girl

and the teenager who often served me lunch.

They both waved.

And the teenager called to me,

“Good-bye, Salad Girl!”

“Who’s Salad Girl?” my mom asked.

“I am,” I said.

“I eat a lot of salad.”

“You
do
?” she said.

“Do you like pickles now, too?” my dad asked.