12 Before 13

by Lisa Greenwald

  “What time is it?” I ask, sitting up slowly, rubbing my eyes, and looking out the window.

  “Almost nine thirty. And I know you have your cantor meeting; your mom told me. Duh. But I needed to tell you about the cheeessse.” She cracks up. “I can’t wait to make this with you!”

  “Okay, maybe you’re focusing on the mac and cheese part of the list, but you’re clearly forgetting the keep our friendship strong. I am going to end our friendship right now because you’re waking me up so early!” I hit her arm with my pillow and then cover my head with it. “Bye, Kay-Kay.”

  She snatches it away. “It’s a normal time to wake up, Ar. You need to be prepared for school starting in less than two weeks. And also didn’t you wake up early at camp?”

  “I did, but we basically walked to breakfast half-asleep in our pajamas,” I tell her. “So it was different. We weren’t really awake. And we definitely didn’t talk about cheese this early in the morning.”

  I start laughing and so does Kaylan, and then I realize I’m actually awake for real now.

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” Kaylan says, looking at her phone. “I want to do the mac and cheese on the list soon because what if cooking is my passion? I want to discover that. I mean, that’s why we put it on the list.”

  I nod. “True.”

  “I mean, I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure comedy is my passion, because duh . . . but ya know? I could be wrong.”

  I nod and listen to her ramble on. I zone out a little, but she’s talking so much that I doubt she’ll notice.

  She continues, “And I want to do the stay up all night to watch the sun set and rise, too, because I want to hear aaaalll about camp,” she explains. “So maybe we can do both at the same time! Tonight! My house! Okay?”

  I deep sigh and exhale. Kaylan’s intensity is back in full effect. “Um, okay. I stayed home last night, so it shouldn’t be a problem. That sounds good.”

  “Bring your mac and cheese ideas, too,” she instructs. “It can’t just be me and my fancy cheese.”

  I throw my head back and crack up. “I don’t know why, but the way you say ‘fancy cheese’ just sounds so, so funny.”

  “Fancy cheese,” she says again in a fake accent, and we laugh so hard my stomach hurts.

  I don’t really get how someone can be so mega-intense and controlling and so over-the-top hilarious at the same time.

  My mom drives me over to the temple, and I expect her to get out of the car and come in with me to see the cantor, but she drops me off in front of the main doors.

  “You’re not coming in?” I ask.

  “No, it’s just a bat mitzvah lesson,” she replies. “I need to take care of a few things.”

  I shrug. “Okay. I thought, like, parents were supposed to be there or something. You came with me to the ones back in the spring.”

  “I don’t need to be there for every one,” she replies. “Come on. Go. You’ll be late.”

  I walk into the temple, and it’s so quiet and empty feeling. I’m used to the crowds of kids in the hallways during Hebrew School and the muffled sounds of grown-ups holding cups of coffee and chatting after services.

  When I make it back to the cantor’s office, her door is closed, so I sit down on one of the cushiony chairs in the hallway.

  I text Alice.

  Ari: How’s ur 1st morning @ home? I’m @ meeting w/ my cantor.

  A response comes right away.

  Alice: Ooh fun. I’m lounging in pjs. Is ur cantor old or young? Mine is like 100. LOL

  Ari: Ha-ha-ha-ha mine is medium. IDK what age. She’s like 50 maybe?

  Alice: Ooh a lady cantor. Good voice?

  Ari: Ha-ha yes. V good. She sings the prayers sooo well. LOL

  Alice: LOL. Have fun. Miss u so much, Noddie.

  Ari: Miss u more, AlKal.

  “Arianna!” Cantor Simon says, coming out of her office. “How was camp?”

  “Amazing,” I reply. “Best time ever.”

  “You were at Silver?” she asks, going to sit down behind her desk. I take a seat on one of the leather chairs on the other side.

  “Yup.”

  “Best place in the world. I went there for thirteen summers, as a camper and then as a counselor.” She smiles. “Did you know that?”

  I shake my head.

  She adds, “It’s magical. So how’s everything going? Torah portion, prayers, fill me in.” She folds her hands together.

  I look around her office at all the books on the shelves and the framed pictures and the artwork. Part of me can’t even believe that I’m sitting here, in Cantor Simon’s office, getting ready for my bat mitzvah. It always seemed like something that other people did, something I’d get to do one day but really far in the future.

  “Um, it’s going.” I laugh. “I worked on the prayers a little at camp, and I started my speech but I don’t think I’ve figured it out quite yet. And I’m working on my Torah portion a little every day, and, um, yeah, I’ll be ready. Don’t worry.”

  She laughs a little, too. “I’m not worried. It’s just my job to check in. Rabbi Oliker and I will be up there with you, but it’s your day to lead the service—you’re going to be the one behind the podium, singing and chanting and reading in front of everyone.” She clenches her teeth, smiling. “Can you believe it?”

  “Um.” I smile, trying to appear like I have it all under control. “Honestly, I can’t believe it.”

  “So before you show me your skills—let’s talk.” She folds her hands on the desk.

  “Okay.” I nod.

  “So on a scale of one to ten, how important of a role do you think Judaism plays in your life?” She wobbles her head from side to side.

  “Um, well, the thing is, before Camp Silver, I think it was, like, a five maybe. I mean, we lit the candles on Shabbat and went to temple sometimes, and I went to Hebrew School, obviously.” I pause. “But then at camp—and this sounds so, so cheesy—it kind of just came alive for me, and so now I think it’s like an eight.”

  Cantor Simon pulls her hair back into one of those tortoise-shell clips. She’s like a fully adult person but she seems so young, in a good way. “That’s marvelous. I like that.”

  I laugh for a second. “Me too.”

  “Do you know what made it come alive?” she asks me.

  “I don’t really know.” I pause to think. “I guess, like, the people, and being all together, sharing in the music and traditions and stuff.”

  “Interesting.” She high-fives me. “I can tell you’re thinking about this.”

  “I am.” I smile. “But I still have a ton to figure out.”

  “That’s okay,” she assures me.

  “So it’s normal to not really know how I feel about this whole thing yet? Like not one-hundred-percent know, I mean?” I ask.

  “Totally normal.” She nods, taking a sip of tea. “Questioning and thinking is a huge part of Judaism. You’re totally doing it right.”

  “Well, phew.” I laugh a little.

  “Ready to practice? We’ll start at the beginning of the service. Opening song will be ‘Hineih Ma-Tov’? Did you sing that at Silver?” She laughs. “I don’t know why I’m asking. Of course you did.”

  “OMG, yes! Hinei ma tov u’ma nayim,” I start singing, and then Cantor Simon joins in. “Shevet achim gam yachad.” We sing the rest of the song together, cracking up.

  She sits back in her chair. “I have to tell you how much fun this is for me, to share in your Silver experience. I’m getting to relive my youth!”

  “As I leave mine behind.” I force a few fake sniffles and look down at my lap. “Just kidding.”

  We practice more of the songs and melodies and prayers together, and she compliments me after each one. “Your pronunciation is very good,” she tells me. “And as we get closer to the day we’ll practice your Torah portion in the real Torah.”

  My heartbeat speeds up a little when she says that. “Like the real scroll?”


  “Yup. The real deal. The five books of Moses. The whole shebang of Jewish law and teachings.”

  “Right.” I smile. “But the whole thing about fasting for forty days if you drop the Torah scroll is a myth, right?” I ask her. “Not that I plan to drop it, but ya know, just in case.”

  “I’ll make sure you don’t drop it.” She smiles at me. “We have to wrap up in a minute, and I’ll see you next week, but before we go, and I know you’re still figuring things out, but how are you feeling about the whole bat mitzvah thing? Is it meaningful to you? Something you have to do because your parents are making you? Are you more interested in the party? Talk to me. Be honest.”

  I pause to think about that for a second, leaning my head on my palm. “I think it is meaningful to me. It’s kind of a sense of accomplishment thing, too, in a way. I keep working on the prayers and the melodies and the Hebrew and little by little I’m getting better at it. It’s like the biggest project of my life. And that feels exciting.” I shrug. “I mean, if I can be honest, I was sort of going through the motions up until now. But the more I practice, the more meaningful it becomes.”

  “First of all, you can always be honest. And you never know, Ari,” she says. “Sometimes people discover their passions at a young age—when they least expect it.”

  “Did you know you wanted to be a cantor when you were twelve, uh, almost thirteen?” I ask, looking at the pictures of her family on the desk.

  “Hmm.” She rolls her lips together. “Not at thirteen . . . when I was about fifteen or sixteen I did, though.”

  I nod, debating telling her about the list and that trying to figure out my passion is one of my goals this year, but it feels like too much to explain and we’re almost out of time.

  “It’s been great talking to you,” Cantor Simon says. “Looking forward to next week.”

  I stand up. “Me too.”

  I walk out of the temple and sit down on the little wooden bench while I wait for my mom to get back and pick me up.

  The whole pursue a passion but first find one thing makes a lot of sense for someone who’s about to turn thirteen. I mean, duh, that’s why we put it on the list.

  But finding a main passion is kind of tricky. I think I’m passionate about a lot of stuff, and I’m not sure how I’ll know what my main passion is, the thing I most want to focus on. And we don’t actually have that much time.

  My mom is already five minutes late when I feel my phone vibrating. I take it out of my pocket, expecting to get some kind of frantic call from her. But it’s Kaylan.

  “Yo,” she says.

  “Yo, yo.”

  “I’m at the pool. Cami, M.W., June, and the rest of the crew are here,” she tells me, but it’s kind of hard to hear with all the noise around her.

  Crew? Are we a crew?

  Kaylan keeps talking. “Marie and Amirah may come by later, too. Are you coming?”

  “I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up at the temple.”

  “What?” she yells.

  I repeat it, yelling this time. “I’m waiting for my mom to pick me up at the temple.”

  “I can’t hear you! Come to the pool.” She stops talking and bursts out laughing about something that’s going on there. “Okay? Bye!”

  She hangs up before I have the chance to say anything else. I sit there feeling slumpy on the bench. It’s not like I expected Kaylan to roll out the red carpet for me when I got home, and her intensity was a little much on visiting day, but now that I’m here, it almost feels like she doesn’t need me to be around. She’s totally cool on her own. She even has a crew that I may or may not be a part of.

  Maybe that’s a good thing. Or maybe it’s not.

  It’s like the opposite of last summer when she was mega-intense Kaylan agita girl.

  I wonder if we’re still making the mac and cheese and staying up all night tonight. I don’t even know.

  Alice texts me a few minutes later.

  Alice: How was the meeting?

  Ari: Fab. Can I ask u a q?

  Alice: of course my dearie

  Ari: How r u feeling about ur bat mitzvah? Like what does it mean 2 u?

  Alice: ummmmmmmm

  Alice: I guess, just like feeling more connected to my community and heritage and stuff, and like playing more of a role in it

  Ari: Cool. I agree. Just trying to fig it all out

  Alice: ur so thoughtful

  Ari: Huh?

  Alice: like u think a lot about stuff. it’s cool

  Ari: Thanks, babe. I miss u sooooooo much.

  Alice: I miss uuuuuuuuuuuu tooooooo

  Ari: Love youuuuuuuuuuu

  Alice: smooches forever

  At least I have Alice. Even if Kaylan’s busy with the crew, I have Alice and Zoe and Hana. And hopefully Golfy, though I haven’t heard from him. Which I have to admit is a little odd. What happened to the super-introspective kid by the waterfall?

  I wonder if he forgot all about me now that camp is over.

  I hope not.

  TWELVE

  “HOW WAS YOUR LESSON?” MY mom asks me as I get in the car.

  I reply, “Good,” and buckle my seat belt.

  I expect her to ask more questions, but that was it. She stays quiet and doesn’t even turn on any music.

  “Oh, can you please take me to the pool?” I ask her, flipping through some playlists on my phone.

  “You have your suit with you?” She turns to look at me for a second and then stares back at the road in front of her.

  “Always do.” I smile. “You never know when you’ll find yourself in front of a body of water.”

  “Is that so?” She half smiles. “Sunscreen too?”

  I nod.

  Something is up with her, but I have no idea what. We stay quiet for a few minutes until my mom launches into a reading of her to-do list.

  “Oh! Ari, I almost forgot. We must finalize address labels, confirm our caterer meeting, order the yarmulkes—did you say you wanted navy blue or we could also do a houndstooth pattern—that would be cool, right?”

  “Houndstooth yarmulkes? Um, yeah, could be cool.”

  “We also need to figure out if we want to do a brunch on Sunday for out-of-town guests,” she says, talking to me, but more like talking to the air. “It could be too much, but then again people do need to eat before they leave town.”

  I rest my head against the window and let her keep talking. I think it calms her to say everything aloud, even if I don’t respond.

  “All right, well, see you later, Mom,” I say when we get to the pool entrance.

  “It looks like you’re settling just fine into life at home.” She seems to be starting a conversation when I’m already halfway out of the car. I never understand why people (mostly moms) do that.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I shrug. The truth is, I don’t know if I am or if I’m just pretending to be. I wish I was still at camp, no doubt about that. But I’m here. And there’s stuff to do—like the list, and figuring out what’s up with my parents, and studying for my bat mitzvah, and all of that.

  Might as well lean in, as people say.

  I walk into the pool, write my name in the sign-in book, and scan the area to find Kaylan and the lunch table girls. I also kind of want to see if Jules is here, so we can discuss bat mitzvah lessons and preparing and stuff. I think her bat mitzvah is in December.

  “Hey, Arianna,” Noah says, catching me completely off guard. “I didn’t know you were back from camp.”

  “Oh, I just got back yesterday,” I tell him, startled. “I thought you were, like, in Australia or something?”

  “I was,” he says. “I just got back a few days ago. And then Jules invited me to the pool today, so yeah, I’m here now.”

  Jules invited him to the pool? “Cool.”

  I look away, trying to think of what to say to him. We didn’t really keep in touch over the summer.

  “Did you have fun at camp?” he asks.

  “Yeah, be
st time ever. I loved it.”

  “That’s cool.” He shuffles his feet on the pavement. “Anyway, I better go. Jules ordered us lunch. See ya around, Arianna.”

  I look away, and then back at Noah. “Um, okay, bye.”

  “Ari!” I hear someone scream and look around. I’m pretty sure that it’s Kaylan, but I can’t seem to find her. “Ari! . . . Here! . . . By the diving board!”

  I nod and walk over to where Kaylan’s sitting. She’s not in our usual spot, and I never would have expected I’d find her sitting over there. She’s with Cami, June, M.W., Amirah, Kira, Sydney, and Marie. She really did mean the whole crew.

  When school started last year, we were definitely two separate groups—me with Sydney, Kira, M.W., and Marie, and Kaylan with June and Cami. I don’t really remember where Amirah fit in, but it doesn’t really matter. Little by little, we all became fused together into one big group.

  That girl Lizzie’s here, too, Kaylan’s lab partner from last year. I wonder if she’ll sit with us at lunch now.

  “Hi, guys,” I say, plopping down on an empty lounge.

  “Arianna’s back, and she’s better than ever,” Cami sings. “Hey-la, Arianna’s back.” She gets up and starts doing a little shimmy, and I gotta admit—it’s a little much.

  If I had to describe Cami in one phrase, that would be it. A little much.

  “Nice to see you missed me.” I smile at the group. “So what’s up? Tell all. Spill it. Fill me in. What did I miss in Brookside?”

  They all look at one another, silent for what feels like three centuries, and then they stare back at me.

  “What?” My cheeks feel hot.

  “Um, your boobs got really big over the summer,” Marie whispers, but loud enough for the whole group to hear. “Did you have to get new bras?”

  I crack up. “Wait, what? For real?” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “It’s true,” Kaylan adds.

  “Guys, first of all, shh.” I move closer to the group. “Awkward to talk about boobs at the pool, first of all. And second of all, I’m still wearing the same sports bras I was wearing last spring, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”