Just Like Me by Nancy Cavanaugh Read Free Book Online

project, when Samantha Collins kept bragging about her mom’s relatives being linked to some of the first Pilgrims, I thought about how my third-grade teacher had answered Brandon’s question. “Of course there were no Asians on the Mayflower. The ship came from England.”
    People like Brandon and Samantha were the reason I had decided that besides my Asian heritage, I would borrow Mom and Dad’s Irish and Italian heritage too.

10
    The arts-and-crafts room was in the basement of the mess hall, and it looked a lot like the park district craft room—wooden tables and metal folding chairs covered with different-colored drips of paint, wooden shelves with plastic bins full of glue, scissors, paint, and other supplies, and a big, ugly paint-and-plaster-splattered sink in the corner.
    On the long tables at the front of the room lay six envelopes. Each with one of our names on it.
    â€œI’m Jen,” said the counselor who was waiting for us when we got there. “Find your name and take a seat where your envelope is, and we’ll get started.”
    Gina’s and my envelopes were at the same table, so we sat next to each other.
    â€œWhy don’t you all open your envelopes and see what’s inside?” Jen asked.
    We all did and were surprised to see photos of ourselves.
    â€œAhhhh,” Vanessa said. “Look at how cute these are!”
    â€œHere’s me getting my first soccer trophy!” Becca said, holding up a picture of herself with a trophy bigger than she was.
    â€œLook at this one!” Meredith said, showing us a photo of herself wearing shorts, snow boots, and a cowboy hat. It looked like she was about three.
    â€œHow about me pushing this doll stroller with our dog, Toodles, in it,” Avery said, smiling.
    We all kept shuffling through our photos, reliving fun memories from when we were younger and showing off pictures of our past accomplishments.
    But then Vanessa changed the mood in the room. “I can’t believe it,” she said in a voice that didn’t sound at all like her usual bossy one. She stared at a photo she held in her hand. “It’s my tenth birthday. Of me with my dad. When we spent the whole day together.”
    She didn’t sound like Vanessa anymore, and her quietness made us all quiet. We looked at her while she stared at the photo. She seemed both happy and sad to see it.
    â€œCheck me out—getting MVP in a soccer tournament when I was only six!” Becca yelled, interrupting whatever touching moment Vanessa was having.
    While Becca described in detail each goal she had scored to get that beloved MVP award, I kept watching Vanessa. As she continued to look at the photo, her happy-sad feeling seemed to harden into hurt.
    â€œLook, Becca!” Avery said, pulling my attention away from Vanessa. “Here’s you, me, and Julia at the Chinese New Year Parade. Look at the adorable Chinese outfits we have on,” she said, holding up the photo so I could see it. “I loved wearing those clothes. I wish they still fit me.”
    I hated those clothes and was glad they didn’t still fit me.
    Those Chinese costumes always itched and smelled funny, and the collars always felt like they were choking me.
    â€œYou guys look so Chinese in that photo,” Vanessa said, peering across the aisle to look at the photo as Avery held it up.
    â€œOf course we look Chinese!” Becca said. “We are!”
    â€œI know, but you just look more Chinese in that picture,” Vanessa said.
    â€œShe’s right,” Meredith said. “You do.”
    Maybe I had been wrong about the arts-and-crafts room. Maybe it would’ve been better to be out in the field playing some game while Vanessa yelled at us instead of in here listening to everyone talk about how “Chinese” Avery, Becca, and I looked.
    â€œThese photos will give us lots of things to talk about for our Ms. Marcia