by Joanne Levy
“I’m here,” Mr. Finkel said.
“Oh.”
“What?” Andrew asked.
“He’s here.”
“Lilah, tell him about the time George ate the whole turkey. That ought to do it.”
“Okay,” I said, finally looking up into Andrew’s eyes. He looked really freaked, but not mad this time. I took a breath. “I’m supposed to tell you something about George eating a whole turkey?”
Andrew laughed but then got really serious.
“Who’s George?”
“My grandma’s dog. He stole the whole Thanksgiving turkey off the counter, and by the time we realized it, he’d eaten pretty much the entire thing.”
“That’s funny.”
He nodded, but he wasn’t smiling.
“Are you really talking to him?” he asked, his voice suddenly very low.
“Yeah. He wanted me to tell you he’s proud of you.”
Andrew’s face suddenly scrunched up and his eyes got all glassy. I could tell he was trying not to cry. Heck, I was trying not to cry. Especially in the middle of the cafeteria.
“Tell him he needs to pull up his socks in math and science.”
“I think he wants you to work harder in math and science.”
Andrew nodded. “Is…” He cleared his throat. “Is he okay?”
“I’m fine. I miss you, but I’m fine, Son.”
“He says he misses you.”
“And Mom?”
“Every day, Andy. I miss your mom every day. But you’re doing a good job taking care of her.”
I relayed the message, trying not to get all emotional. But it was hard. This was like the hardest conversation ever.
Andrew blinked and looked away.
I took a sip of my water to give him a minute.
“I miss him. Can you tell him I miss him?” Andrew said, still not looking at me.
“He can hear you,” I said.
A tear started to roll down his cheek. He swiped it away with the back of his hand. “I don’t really know what else to say.”
I opened my mouth to offer a suggestion, but in that second, Mr. Finkel said, “Tell my son I love him. Tell him I miss him and that he and his mom are in my thoughts every minute of every day.”
Despite my throat getting tight, I took another sip of my water and told Andrew what his father said.
“I love you, Dad,” he whispered.
“Tell him I have to go, Lilah,” Mr. Finkel said after a long, quiet minute.
I did. Andrew nodded.
“But, Lilah,” Mr. Finkel said.
“Yes?”
“Andy likes you. I thought I should tell you. He’d probably be upset if he knew I told you that, though,” he said, and I could even hear the smile in his voice.
I willed my face not to heat up and go red, but I knew it was no use.
“What did he say?” Andrew asked.
I shrugged and took another sip of my water. “Something about getting your skates sharpened and then he had to go. Oh hey, happy birthday, by the way. Sorry I missed it.”
“Thanks,” Andrew said. “It was a couple of weeks ago.”
“How does it feel to be thirteen?”
He shook his head. “Not much different. I don’t really feel any older.”
“No?” That was kind of disappointing. I expected that my thirteenth birthday, the one my religion said propelled me into adulthood, would be significant. I mean, it’s a milestone, so it should feel different, right?
“So, uh, I guess that’s it then?” he asked, pushing back his chair, suddenly looking like he was anxious to get away from the table. And me.
Maybe his dad was wrong. Maybe he didn’t like me.
Alex chose to show up at that exact moment. She looked from me to Andrew and back again. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Andrew stood up. “Yes. Uh, thanks, Lilah. Really.”
“Oh,” Alex said. “Did you just ask Lilah to the seventh-grade dance?”
WHAT? I looked at my friend, sending SHUT UP vibes to her with my brain.
Didn’t work.
“Oh,” Alex fake chuckled. “I thought when you were thanking her it was for agreeing to go with you to the dance. Because I know she would have said yes.”
“Uh…” Andrew blushed and looked at me. His face was contorted like he smelled something bad. I hoped it wasn’t me.
Alex looked at me and winked. Not so discreetly, either. I wondered if I could hire a ghost to strangle her. Never mind, I thought, I’ll do it myself.
“Oh, well. I didn’t ask…”
“That’s too bad,” Alex said, shaking her head.
Andrew looked at me, his green eyes almost sparkling. “But um… Lilah, if you’d like to go…”
“Go! Go with him!” My grandmother hollered so loud it made me jump.
Good thing I had a strong heart. Sheesh.
“I’d like that,” I managed to say.
“You’ll have a great time,” Mr. Finkel said.
Oh, good grief. Who knew when it was time to start dating that I’d have my own peanut gallery making comments?
But I forced myself to focus on the important fact: I had a date!
Andrew smiled. Like really smiled, showing teeth and everything. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he did like me. And wow, he was ten times cuter when he smiled like that.
“Great.”
“Great,” Alex said. “Now I’m going to be a third wheel. You think Tamsin’s brother will go to a seventh-grade dance? Yeah, I didn’t think so either.”
Alex was clearly insane.
“Do you like Sean? He’ll be there,” Andrew suggested.
I looked at Alex, who had liked Sean for about a millisecond when they’d reached for the same tuna sandwich in the cafeteria. Their hands had even touched.
She nodded. “That would be cool.” She said it all nonchalant, like she didn’t care one way or another, but I could tell that on the inside she was squealing, just the same as I was. Because we were going on a double date to the dance with a couple of really cute boys.
“Well, I’d better go. Thanks again, Lilah. For you know…” He glanced over at Alex.
“You’re welcome, Andrew.”
“Hey, Lilah?”
“Yeah?”
He smiled again before he said, “You can call me Andy. All my close friends do.”
I swear I almost fainted.
Chapter 14
Friday night, Dad and I headed to the mall to get him some new clothes. First we stopped for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory (their fried mac and cheese is my favorite!). Dad called it a date, which I thought was kind of sad, but I didn’t say anything. I mean, he did have plans to go out with a woman on a real date, so I didn’t need to make him feel weird about it.
After dinner, we went to Sears to look at suits. With the help of a really hip young saleslady, we got him three pairs of pants, two sport jackets, four ties, and six new shirts. I was kind of shocked at how willing he was to get a whole new wardrobe, but he obviously knew he was overdue.
When he moved into the underwear department, it was my sign to exit. Some things you just don’t need to help your dad buy.
“I need some socks, Dad,” I said as I pointed to the other side of the store. “I’ll be over there when you’re done.”
Dad smiled and nodded before returning to the racks of boxers.
So I went over to the ladies’ department, and on the way, my grandmother decided to make an appearance.
“You did a good job with him, Lilah.”
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to be obvious; I was talking to a ghost, after all. “It wasn’t all me.”
“You have good taste, though.”
I smiled at the compliment.
“What are you buying?”
“I need some socks.”
“Lilah?”
“Yes?”
“I think it’s time you started wearing a bra.”
I
stopped walking, even though I was only as far as the panty-hose section.
“What?”
“Lilah, I think it’s time you started wearing a bra. You are developing into a young woman and…”
“Bubby!” I felt my face heat up.
“What is it?”
“I don’t need one of those.”
“Don’t be embarrassed, every woman goes through changes in her body…”
I ducked behind a rack of slippers. “Bubby, please!”
“She’s right, dear.” I looked around, but surprise, surprise, there was no one else around.
“Who’s there?”
“Prissy Lafontaine.”
“Oh, hello, Prissy!” Bubby said, obviously thrilled that she now had a coconspirator.
“I need socks,” I said, and headed over toward the socks.
“Hmmm.”
I sighed. “What is it?”
“Your grandmother is right. It’s time you started wearing foundation garments.”
Great, more fashion advice from a couple of old ghosts. And what on earth is a foundation garment? Ugh.
“I’ll get Mom to take me when she gets back from her honeymoon.”
“Oh, pish-posh,” Prissy said. “Before I became a designer, I worked in the intimates department at Macy’s. I’ve fitted thousands of women for brassieres. You’re in capable hands.”
Bubby laughed. I wasn’t quite as amused myself.
“It’s okay, I’ll wait for Mom.”
“Lilah, really,” Bubby said in that voice that meant she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “We will help you. Now go into the intimates department, and we’ll help you pick some out to try on.”
Oh, this is so not happening, I thought. I mean, I was kind of excited about getting a bra, but I had always assumed it would have been one of those mother-daughter bonding moments, not a dead grandmother–granddaughter–dead-fashion-icon bonding moment.
With another big sigh, I made my way over to the bra section and the fun really began. While I tried not to look like a psychotic preteen talking to herself, I managed to pick out three bras. I took them over to the lady behind the cash register and asked if I could try them on. She smiled down at me like I was four years old and asked if I wanted her to measure me for the bras. I politely declined and watched in horror as she took them out of the boxes and then handed them back to me.
“Here you go; I checked the sizes for you.”
Gee, thanks.
I locked myself in one of the fitting rooms and took a deep breath. A little self-conscious, knowing my two ghostly bra stylists were watching, I took off my shirt and tried on the first bra. I barely had the thing on before I heard my name.
“Now who?”
“Is there a Lilah in here?” It was the saleslady and not another ghost.
“Oh, I’m Lilah.”
“Your father is outside. He wanted me to let you know he’s here.”
Perfect. “Thank you.”
After much complicated twisting and contorting and much discussion over underwire versus no underwire (I was strongly anti-underwire), I managed to try on all three bras and the consensus was that the second one looked best. Bubby suggested I get two for now until my breasts “decide what size they want to be” (yikes).
When I came out of the dressing room, the woman was standing there. “So, how did we do?”
“Well I did just fine,” I said. “I’d like this one and another just like it, please.”
“Get one in the blush pink,” Prissy said. “You’ll be glad you did.”
I asked the lady for the second one in pink. I had no idea why, I was just not in the mood for an argument with a ghost.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
I followed her out into the store and there was Dad, weighed down with numerous bags, grinning and blushing. Ew. I may as well have asked him to buy me a box of pads. How embarrassing. There are definitely some downsides to living with your dad when you’re a developing twelve-year-old girl.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Lilah,” Bubby said, probably seeing how red my face was. “When your father was your age, I had to help him with his…”
“STOP!” I said as loud as I could without dad hearing. I SO did not want to hear embarrassing childhood stories about my dad. Especially when he was three feet in front of me. In the bra department of Sears. This was horrifying enough, thank you very much.
“Got what you need?” he asked, making no mention of the socks I had said I was looking for.
“Yep,” I said, and led him over to the sales desk so he could pay. Without another word, he pulled out his credit card and paid for the bras while I wondered if everyone would know at school that I was now a member of the bra-wearing society. Not that it was an official society or anything, but girls who wore bras were different, more grown up, even the ones like me who barely had anything to put in them.
We were almost clear, almost at the door to the outside when I heard, “Hi, Lilah.”
Like I was on TV, in slow motion, I turned to see Andrew (eh-hem, Andy) Finkel standing right there in front of me. He was smiling. I wondered if he could see through my bag to the bras inside. I put the bag behind my back, but instead of hiding it, I knocked it into my dad’s arm, and it fell from my grasp.
And of course, because I hadn’t been humiliated enough, the boxes slipped out and my size 32AA bras, one in white, one in blush pink, went sliding across the floor.
I truly wanted to die.
Dad was so laden with his bags that he couldn’t bend down, but Andy, Mr. Polite and helpful, immediately bent down to help.
“I’VE GOT IT!” I hollered, and dropped to the floor to pick up the boxes as quickly as humanly possible. I stuffed them into the bag as I yelled, “I gotta go. Bye!”
And then, not even waiting to see if Dad would follow, I bolted from the store.
I’d never been so humiliated in all my life. NEVER!
Finally, Dad got close enough to the car to unlock it with the remote. I opened the door and dove inside, just in case Andrew (I couldn’t bear to call him Andy after he’d seen my bras) came out of the store.
“Who was that?” Dad asked about a hundred hours later after he hung up his new clothes on the hook in the back and finally got into the driver’s seat.
“Nobody.”
“It didn’t look like nobody.”
“Just a guy from my school.”
“A special guy?”
I gave Dad a look. It didn’t work to get him to stop bugging me about it.
“Come on, Lilah, you can tell me.”
“Just a guy, okay?”
He held up his hands, palms facing me. “Okay, I see this is a touchy subject with you.”
Ya think? I thought, but I didn’t say anything out loud.
“His mother seemed very nice.”
“His mother?” I hadn’t even noticed Andrew wasn’t alone.
“Well yes, Lilah, after you ran out of there, I had to say something, so I introduced myself to his mother.”
Oy, as my bubby would say.
“She was wearing a lovely suit. How could you not notice?” Ms. Lafontaine asked.
Oy again. “I was a little preoccupied,” I said.
“What?” Dad looked over at me while he started the car.
“Nothing.”
“Listen, Lilah,” Dad said in his you’re about to get some fatherly advice, whether you want it or not voice. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. All girls go through changes.” He coughed, a sure sign he was embarrassed.
“Dad, I’ve already had this talk with Mom.” And now with my dead grandmother and some old fashion designer who talks about things like foundation garments (and by the way, looking around the store, I didn’t see even one sign for foundation garments, so I still have no idea what they are).
“Okay, kid, but remember, if you need to talk about anything, anything at all, I’m here.”
“Sure,” I said
. But I didn’t mean it. You can’t talk to your dad about boobs and bras. No way.
Chapter 15
Dad left the house at six thirty. Twenty minutes later, Alex got dropped off so we could watch the rest of Ghostbusters, which we never got a chance to finish on our previous movie night.
As we grabbed some snacks from the kitchen and walked into the den, I told Alex about the bra disaster. She was sympathetic and groaned at all the right places in my story. Finally, someone who understood real humiliation!
“How did he look when he saw the bras?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I was so completely mortified, I had to bolt.”
“That’s too bad. It would have been helpful to know if he was impressed.” She rolled her eyes. “What am I saying? Of course he was impressed.”
“Impressed? I’m not so sure.”
Alex waved me off. “So, are you wearing one now?”
I nodded.
“Let’s see.”
Being that Alex is my BFF and we change next to each other for gym class, I wasn’t at all embarrassed, so I pulled up my shirt to show her my bra. It was the blush pink one.
She cocked her head as she stared at my chest. “Not bad. But you need more to fill it.”
“Like I have any control over that?”
Alex started flapping her arms like a chicken. “What about exercises?”
I pointed toward her still-flat chest. “They don’t seem to be working for you any.”
“True.” She sighed and dropped to the couch. “I can’t wait until we turn thirteen. It’s all going to happen for us in eighth grade.”
I nodded. “Thirteen will be special. Twelve is so blah.” I grabbed the remote and started the movie while Alex jumped up and turned out the light.
“I know,” Alex said. “But you never know, the dance is coming up.”
I had completely forgotten! The seventh-grade dance. The one I was supposed to be going to with Andrew.
“I can’t go.”
Alex looked at me so fast, it was a surprise she didn’t give herself whiplash. “What? You have to go.”
“I can’t go now.”
“Why not?”
And here I thought Alex really got it. “Um, Alex, bra disaster?”
She waved me off again. “You watch, I bet he likes you more now that he knows you wear a bra.”
