The next morning,
I stood with my parents
in a Brooklyn parking lot,
waiting for the bus to camp.
All around us,
girls were unloading cars
with their families.
A few of them had dogs, too.
Such lovable dogs,
wagging their tails and licking those girls' faces.
Sometimes girls would see one another across the lot
and scream
and run toward each other
and hug
and jump up and down.
I wanted a friend to run and hug and jump with.
I wanted my best friend, Pearl.
But Pearl goes to Oregon every summer
to visit her grandparents.
I also wanted a dog.
I frowned at my parents,
who kept crushing my dog dreams.
Neither of them noticed.
My mom was chatting with another mom.
And my dad had started walking off.
He stopped and talked to a woman with a clipboard.
She flipped through some papers,
then pointed across the parking lot.
Finally, my dad came back.
"Who was that?" I asked him.
"The head of the junior unit," he said.
"She says you're in the Gypsy Moth cabin."
"Gypsy Moth," I repeated.
"Isn't it pretty?"
my mom said.
"I always wanted to be in
Gypsy Moth
when I was a girl."
"The name is pretty," I said.
"But aren't gypsy moths ugly?"
"They're prettier than cicadas," my mom said.
"I was in the Cicada cabin
my first year.
Do you want to hear how creepy
those bugs are?"
"No!" my dad said, very quickly.
My mom and I both laughed.
Because it's funny
how much my dad hates yucky things.
Then he told me,
"I have more news.
Your counselor is already at camp.
She'll meet you there.
But there's one other Gypsy Moth camper
getting on this bus.
Her name's Joplin."
"Really?" I said.
I'd never heard of anyone named Joplin.
"Really," my dad said.
"She's standing over—"
He turned to point,
then stopped and dropped his arm.
"That's her!" he said in a low voice.
"With the red glasses. Walking right toward us."
The girl with the red glasses
walking right toward us
was very thin
and very, very tall.
"She's nine?" I said.
She was as tall as a seventh grader!
"Yes, definitely," my dad said.
"I asked the same thing."
A second later,
Joplin stopped right in front of us.
My head barely reached
her shoulders.
We all said "Hi" and
"Nice to meet you."
Then Joplin looked down
at me and said,
"Do you eat chocolate?"
"Sure," I said.
I waited for her to offer me some.
Because why else would she have asked?
But instead, she said,
"Good.
A girl in my cabin last year said it gave her a rash.
I never liked her."
"Oh," I said.
We were all quiet for a second.
I wondered what that girl's rash looked like.
Then Joplin told me,
"Gypsy Moth is a good cabin.
It's near the bathroom.
So you won't get lost if you need to go
in the middle of the night."
"That's good," I said.
I started to imagine
being in my pajamas
lost in the deep, dark woods
with only a flashlight,
scared
and
searching for the bathroom
and
needing to pee.
Then someone called out,
"There it is!"
We all turned
and saw a big silver bus
with a sleek black top
pulling into the lot.
I stepped behind my mom when I saw it.
It was gigantic!
How was I supposed to get on that thing
without either of my parents?
"You have to drive me to camp!" I told them then.
"In our car!"
"You know we can't," my mom said.
"All campers arrive by bus—that's the rule."
"I hate that stupid rule," I said.
"We'll pick you up on your last day, though,"
my dad said.
"We can't wait to see you at camp!"
You'll have to wait forever,
I thought.
Because I am not getting on that bus.
I am not.
I'll stay right here in Brooklyn.
Maybe my dad read my mind.
Because he asked me and Joplin,
"Would you like to sit together on the bus?"
I held my breath.
Of course I wanted to sit with her.
But maybe she wanted to sit with someone else.
Or by herself.
She looked at me.
Sunlight bounced off her red glasses.
"Want to?" she asked.
"Sure," I answered.
Then the head of the junior unit shouted,
"Time to load up!"
"We'll meet you at the bus," my mom told Joplin,
"after you say good-bye to your parents."
"OK," Joplin said.
And she walked off
the way she'd come.
"Let's get this trunk on the bus," my dad said.
He took one end,
and my mom took the other.
I grabbed my backpack.
As we all crossed the lot toward the bus,
my heart started beating faster.
I hurried to catch up to my dad.
The trunk wobbled a little
as I took his hand.
I could tell it wasn't easy
for him to walk
holding the trunk with one hand
and me with the other.
But still,
he held my hand tight
until the very last second.
Then both my parents
hugged me
and kissed me
and reminded me to wear sunscreen and bug spray.
"Don't forget to reapply!" my mom said,
with her hands on my shoulders.
"It wears off!"
"I promise," I told her.
Suddenly, the head of the junior unit was shouting,
"All aboard!"
And Joplin was waiting beside me.
My mom kissed my head
one last time
before letting me go.
Then,
feeling very small,
I followed tall Joplin
onto the humongous bus.
