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  “Oh, yeah, my dad, like, called and put it all together. They were super psyched to have me.”

  I doubt they were super psyched. But I tell her, “Great,” and that we can meet by the side doors after school and then walk up to 7th Avenue to walk by the park. She says great and she’ll see me then. Great. Great. None of it is.

  I start pumping the ketchup for my tot lagoon so hard, Ducks knows there’s something wrong, but he’s quiet and just follows me to the end of a table and sits down across from me.

  “You know I can walk with you if you want. It’s not really out of my way,” he says, grabbing a fistful of tots and putting them on my tray. I tell him it’s fine and start on my tots. It’s almost hard to enjoy them knowing that in a few short hours, it’s just going to be me and Allegra on the longest walk I’ve ever taken. Almost. I eat in silence and head back to class.

  Before I know it, the last bell rings and everyone is scrambling to lockers and bags and heading out the doors. I try to slow myself down, taking a longer time at my locker than I need, but I know that at a certain point it’s just putting off the inevitable. Ducks comes over to my locker and looks over the side.

  “You sure you don’t want me to walk with you?” he asks.

  “No, it’s cool.” I sigh and close my locker.

  “Okay.” He shrugs and walks me out the front door. Just as the doors open, I remember that I never asked who he was talking about at lunch, so I turn around and ask him then. At first he’s mad that I wasn’t paying attention, but then I tell him just to tell me already and he gets all nervous. I don’t know if it’s all the people hanging around and getting ready to head out or something else, but he tells me he’ll text me later. I walk around the side and see Allegra standing with Sophie. Both of them are waiting for me.

  “You ready?” Allegra says, almost like she’s uncomfortable and wants to get away from Sophie, which just seems so gross to me. But then she turns and says to Sophie, “Are you going to come with us?”

  “No,” Sophie answers. “I was just waiting to ask Ellen about Sunday. We’re going shopping for her dress.”

  “Oh, nice,” Allegra says and starts to walk off.

  I look at Sophie and mouth, “I’ll text you later,” then follow Allegra up to 7th Avenue.

  For the first couple of blocks, Allegra is walking ahead of me, and I just let her stay there. It gives me a break from talking to her. It’s not until she stops at a crosswalk that she even looks back to see where I am. She only waits for me because she has to.

  From then on, we’re walking side by side, but luckily still saying nothing. It’s awkward for her too, I guess, but I’m just glad to almost be there. Then out of nowhere, Allegra says, “Sophie’s taking you for your dress?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Lucky,” Allegra says without looking at me, but I can hear in her voice, she’s sadder than she’d ever admit.

  Chapter 5

  My Hebrew school is really chill. Probably too chill for Allegra, but I don’t tell her that. I don’t really tell her anything. We go in through the side door and down the hall to where a few boys from my class are already milling around. Allegra perks up as soon as she sees them. She’s obsessed with boys, especially cute boys. They’re the only people in the world she really tries to be something close to human for. I could have called her reaction from the start and would have if it didn’t feel so pathetically obvious. The minute she sees Noah Wasserman, by far the cutest boy in class, she practically jumps over people to get a seat next to him.

  I get it. Noah Wasserman is beautiful. I’m not saying it in an I-like-him way, but just in an I-have-eyes-and-understand-the-world way. He’s not tall, but he looks tall, and older. He even has a little hair on his chest. These black hairs peek out the top of his shirt sometimes. He has the blackest, curliest hair I’ve ever seen. Not frizzy but perfectly formed curls. Mine can get like that, but I have to set it overnight. I don’t think Noah does that. I think you’re supposed to call them ringlets. It makes total sense. They seem rich and thought out like that. None of this matters when he turns his huge blue eyes on you. They’re gigantic. They’re the kind of blue that should only exist in places like the sky. No person should have that much blue, but Noah does.

  The worst part, the very worst part, is that on top of all that, Noah Wasserman’s super nice. He’s not a jerk like the rest of the boys in Hebrew school. They’re mostly snot factories that grab their own crotches all the time. Noah is a gentleman. He’s polite. He says interesting things. It’s no wonder that Allegra would go after Noah, because clearly he’s the best. It would only worry me if Noah would ever go for a girl like Allegra. If he would, I don’t know if I could look at him the same way. The sky-blue eyes would be a huge waste if he just wanted to stare at someone as silly as Allegra.

  When Rabbi Jessica comes in, everything starts to settle down a little. Everything, that is, except Allegra, who is still laughing about something another boy said to her. She’s laughing loud, trying to impress Noah. I don’t even turn around to see if it’s working. I don’t want to look either way. Rabbi Jessica sets some papers down on her desk and starts the class.

  I like Rabbi Jessica. She’s smart and funny, and she always wears sneakers by the time she gets to our class. She’s been in heels all day and she needs a break. That’s usually how she begins the class, but today, because she’s already running late, she stays in the heels and leans on the front of her desk.

  “Sorry to be late, everybody, but before we get started, I want to introduce a new member of our little group. Rachel, why don’t you come to the front of the class and introduce yourself to everyone. Don’t worry, they won’t bite. You’ve stopped biting, Adam, haven’t you?”

  Adam Green smiles a little and we all laugh. I’m weirded out that she’s called out my Hebrew name, and I almost start to get up when Allegra swooshes past me in a big huff. We have the same Hebrew name. This whole thing couldn’t get much worse, but then Allegra opens her mouth.

  “So like hey, I’m Allegra.” She smiles. “I mean Rachel.” Allegra does this hitting the hard ch sound to make a joke and a few of the worst boys in the class start to laugh, but Rabbi Jessica doesn’t fall for it.

  “Well, we like to use our Hebrew names here in Hebrew school. Sort of goes together,” Rabbi Jessica says, making a joke, which I laugh way too hard at. “But go on, tell us about yourself, Rachel.”

  “Well, I’m Rachel,” Allegra says, almost rolling her eyes, which makes me crazy mad. “I go to school with Ellen,” she says, pointing at me.

  “Rachel, you go to school with this Rachel?” Rabbi Jessica asks me.

  “Yeah,” I sort of grumble, not wanting to be any part of this weirdness.

  “Two Rachels, what are we going to do?” Rabbi Jessica says and then offers, “Well, why don’t we call you Rachel A, and then we can call you Rachel E? Would that work for everybody?” The class nods in agreement, even Allegra does, but I don’t say anything. I don’t care either way, it’s all a bit of a disaster.

  Rabbi Jessica then starts asking Allegra about when her bat mitzvah is and what she’s looking forward to most about the big day. This starts Allegra on a roll, talking about all the amazing things she’s going to have at her party. The food, the dancing, the theme, which is, and I can’t believe this, the Kardashians. She’s telling everyone about an aerialist that’s going to introduce her as she drops from the ceiling when finally Rabbi Jessica stops her.

  “Well, that all sounds like fun,” Rabbi Jessica says, which makes me so happy because she says “fun” like it’s a question. “But what about the event itself?”

  “The party, yeah, I know,” Allegra snaps back, trying to go right back into her list of all the amazing things that are going to happen at her party, but again, Rabbi Jessica interrupts her.

  “No, the bat mitzvah. The party is a very nice
thing and a moment to celebrate, but the bat mitzvah ceremony is the reason we’re all here. It’s the first day when you stand up before your friends and family and take your place among them as an adult in the eyes of God.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Allegra tries to recover a little.

  “I know that you do, Rachel A. I would just rather hear about that as opposed to the party after, no matter how fabulous it may be.”

  Allegra stands there for a minute, not really knowing what to say, but Rabbi Jessica sees her struggling and because she’s much cooler than Allegra will ever be, lets her go back to her seat and starts the class.

  “I think actually Rachel A left us in a really great place to start for today. You’ve heard so much about how this is the day you will become a man or a woman, but today the question that I’d like to ask each and every one of you is, what kind of man or woman do you want to be? What kind of man or woman do you think would fulfill your duty to your family and God? Not necessarily in that order, of course,” she says with a laugh.

  It’s a hard question and all of us are a little shy to answer at first, but then Noah says from the back, “Kind.”

  Rabbi Jessica writes that on the whiteboard behind her and that starts the rest of the class calling out answers to her. Smart. Loving. Charitable. Successful.

  “Well, let’s talk about that one for a minute. What does success mean? How can we measure that?” Rabbi Jessica asks the class, and pushes her glasses up a little bit.

  “Rich,” Allegra pipes up from the back and some people laugh, but Rabbi Jessica doesn’t. She tosses the comment back at her.

  “Well, that can certainly be a part of it. But should that be the test? There are many people, successful people in the world, who aren’t rich. How else could we measure this?”

  People are searching for answers after this first misstep and no one really knows how to continue, so I just say, “Well, like, if you’re wanted.”

  “Say more about that?” Rabbi Jessica tosses back at me.

  “Well, like, my mom is a surgeon.” I start, but then Allegra whispers, “Rich.” A group of boys in front of her start to laugh. Rabbi Jessica tells them to stop and asks me to continue.

  “Well, she’s a surgeon and she does important work that saves people’s lives, and they want her all over the world because she’s so good at what she does.”

  “So we could say that to be good at something is a great part of being a success?” Rabbi Jessica writes that on the whiteboard.

  “Yes, but there’s more to it too,” I say without thinking.

  “What else, Rachel E?”

  “Well, I mean, it’s hard too. It’s not all easy being that good at something and also not being there for the other people who want you around.” I’m shocked that I’ve said that, but I didn’t want Rabbi Jessica to think that was all there was to it.

  “Well, sure. I can see that as well.” Rabbi Jessica smiles at me. Then Todd Bremmer pipes up with “strong,” and that starts a whole other slew of comments coming in and takes the pressure off me for a minute.

  “I think these are all great. Really. But it’s something I want you to keep thinking about on your own. You’re becoming a man. You’re becoming a woman. What kind of woman do you want to be? What kind of man?” says Rabbi Jessica.

  We spend the rest of the class going through Hebrew vocab and it’s hilarious to watch Allegra mess them up. She’s really bad, and I guess I should feel a little sorry for her, but I will another day. Not today. I don’t wait for her after class; she’s making her own friends, and she can make it home on her own.

  My dad is home and up with Hannah by the time I get there. He’s ordered diner food for dinner and has potato skins and mozzarella sticks all laid out when I walk in. Hannah is so thrilled to have the mozzarella sticks, she holds on to his pant leg as he tries to put everything in the oven to heat it up a little.

  “Can you take her for a minute?” he asks me, holding a tinfoil dish in each hand. I pull Hannah toward me and sit down at the table with her. She is signing at me to ask when it will all be ready and when she can eat all that cheese when Dad asks me, “Did you speak to Mom yesterday?”

  “Yeah. She said Aunt Debbie would take me shopping for my dress, but I told her I’d rather go on my own.”

  “Well, why can’t she take you herself?” Dad asks from inside the oven.

  “She said she wanted me to get something this week and she won’t be home until Monday,” I say, and even as I get the words out I know I shouldn’t have.

  “Monday?” Dad fumes from inside the oven. He turns around quickly and I don’t know if the red face is from the oven or if he’s just already that angry. I tell him that Mom’s patient needed to be under observation or something. He calms himself a bit and starts setting the table for us all to eat.

  For the rest of the evening, Dad is pretty quiet, which isn’t that unusual but unlike most times when he’s reading or on the computer or something, I know that tonight he has lots to say, he’s just not saying it in front of me and Hannah. It isn’t until I’m in bed that I hear some of it. He’s on the phone with Mom and they’re arguing. Hannah felt it, and she crawls into bed with me to get away from the bad feeling she has. I try to get her and myself back to sleep before I really start to listen but just as my eyes close, I hear him yell into the phone.

  “We all need you. What kind of mother are you?!”

  I roll over on Hannah, trying to fall asleep and wondering at Mom’s response.

  Chapter 6

  The phone rings and before I can even say hello, Aunt Debbie says, “So why don’t you want me to take you for your dress? Don’t you think I have good taste?”

  Mom once told me, “Always say yes to Aunt Debbie, except when it comes to Israel.” But I don’t know if “yes” is the right response here, so I just stall for time. I start in with a few excuses: I thought she would be too busy, I know it’s such a schlep for her to come all the way from Connecticut. Schlep is a Yiddish word that means “a tedious or difficult journey.” Flashing a little Yiddish at Aunt Debbie usually gets her to calm down or at least just hear you out. She loves it. She’s obsessed with everything Jewish. It works to buy me some time.

  She wasn’t always like this. A few years ago, they thought Aunt Debbie had cancer, and everyone got really scared that she could die. It was a crazy time, but the weirdest part was that while everyone around her was freaking out, Aunt Debbie was calm. Aunt Debbie is never calm—I mean, I’m on the phone with her about her taking an hour-long train ride to shop at crowded stores in Manhattan to buy a dress for my bat mitzvah in four weeks—but when it came to her cancer, she was really chill. She whispered. She started going to shul, or temple, every day. She got quiet and smiled a lot, and the things that she used to make a big deal about didn’t even phase her. We were all worried but got still. And then she got better, but she kept going to shul.

  Now she freaks out again and she’s practically Orthodox. She made her husband, Uncle Andrew, wear a yarmulke all the time, and now they keep kosher, which is all about what you can and can’t eat and you have to have separate plates for meat and milk. It’s intense. Aunt Debbie always used Yiddish words before, but now she presses on them when she says them.

  “I shouldn’t come all the way to Manhattan to see that my niece has a nice dress for her bat mitzvah? This is something I shouldn’t do?” Aunt Debbie asks on the phone. I say “asks,” but she’s not really asking me, she’s really asking me how stupid I am to even think something like this.

  “I just didn’t want to bother you,” I say, and it sounds lame.

  “I should be bothered.” Aunt Debbie says. “Why don’t I come in Sunday with Shelley, who misses you, by the way, you never call her, and we go shopping. Maybe see a show? Make a day of it?”

  “But I already promised my friend Sophie we could go together.” I
try a last-ditch effort to get out of the day she’s already making for me.

  “Bring her.” Aunt Debbie smiles into the phone. I can actually hear her smile. I have to say yes. There’s no way out. I have no other choice, so I just do. I say yes.

  “A mitzvah for us both.” Aunt Debbie pats into the phone. A mitzvah is a good deed that pleases God. I hope God is happy, or at least Aunt Debbie is. Me, not so much. She says she’ll meet me and Sophie at Grand Central Station at ten in the morning on Sunday. “Bring a jacket, just in case.”

  That night, over Chinese, when I tell Dad about Aunt Debbie taking me, he says he already knows. Aunt Debbie called him before she called me. Dad looks so tired when I tell him about Aunt Debbie, I feel kind of sorry for bringing it up. Hannah signs that she’s all done with her noodles and Dad signs that she should go and wash her hands then, we’re still eating.

  When Hannah’s at the sink, I say, “It won’t be a big deal. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I keep saying things hoping he’ll say something back or at least more of something than a nod, but he doesn’t take the bait.

  “I mean, Aunt Debbie’s not so bad. And she says Sophie can come along too.”

  “That’s nice.” Dad smiles. Hannah holds up her hands for Dad to look at from the sink and he signs to her that she’s done a good job and she can go play until he’s finished with dinner. We always tell Hannah she can go and play, but she always comes and plays. In a few minutes she’s back at the table with a bunch of plastic animals all set to gallop over our egg rolls and fortune cookies.

  “I don’t have to go with Aunt Debbie if you don’t want me to,” I say, really trying to pull anything out of him.

  “It’s fine,” Dad says, getting up from the table with his plate.

  Hannah runs a squirrel over my head as I watch Dad go over to the sink and start to do the dishes. I think about going over and helping him, but there’s something in the way he’s standing over the sink, something about how low his shoulders are hanging, that makes me think it’s better to leave him alone.