“We can’t do the big party at the golf club,” my dad says. “It just wouldn’t be wise. Money will be tight until I find a new job, and we need to conserve.”
“Okay . . .” My voice trails off. I look away for a second. Their faces are so sad that I almost feel little tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
It feels like I’ve been sitting in the freezing cold, covered by one of those superpowered thermal camping blankets, feeling cozy and protected but then the thermal blanket was just yanked off of me, and now I’m frigid.
“I’m disappointed, too,” my mom says. “We had all the plans. And I made all the arrangements and it was going to be so beautiful.” She starts crying, resting her head on her arms.
“Uh, it’ll be okay, Mom,” I say, forcing out the words. Shouldn’t it be her comforting me? I mean, we’re all disappointed here. But I’m trying to hold it together so I don’t make my dad feel worse about the whole thing.
She sits up finally, nodding fast. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. We’ll still have a small luncheon at the synagogue.”
It occurs to me that they never even really asked me what I wanted at my bat mitzvah party. If they had, I would’ve said a beach theme with super-plush personalized turquoise towels as the giveaway. We’d have mini hot dogs, of course, but also all of my other favorite foods—french fries with mozzarella cheese, a make-your-own omelet station, spicy tuna rolls, and brownie sundaes for dessert.
I wish they had asked me, and it never occurred to me to really make a request. I mean, except for the mini hot dogs because duh—they’re a requirement.
I stay at the table with them for a couple more minutes, but then after a few minutes of my ideal bat mitzvah daydreaming, I feel an overwhelming need to leave the room. I walk upstairs and find my phone sitting on my bed.
Well, at least I have my phone back.
I debate who to text first—Kaylan and tell her what happened, but she’s away with her dad and dealing with her own stress. The camp girls? Well, we’ve been emailing and they’re all busy this week, so no. I have to tell Alice, though. She’ll know what to do. And I think we’re at a closeness level that makes it okay for us to interrupt family time.
Ari: AlKal, u free? Need 2 talk 2 u.
She writes back less than a minute later
Alice: out w/ fam now. Can we have a phone date 2night? R u ok? Ilysm
Ari: 2night is ok. ILY2
I want to text Golfy, too, but I know he’s away and I know he’s screen-free this week. So there’s no point to texting him.
I decide to group text the lunch table girls since they’re all here, and I kind of do want to get out of the house and away from this drama for a little bit.
Ari: Hi. Any1 around to hang 2day?
I wait for a response.
M.W.: Hiiii, Ari. I’m going back 2 school shopping w/ my mom 2day. Maybe tomw or l8r?
June: I’m at my grandparents’ house in MA, back 2night.
Cami: I may b free 2 night 2.
Marie: Same. We r going to that new water park out east 2day with my cousins.
Amirah: my cousins r visiting 2day 2 E
Kira: So sorry I got this text so late. Can’t hang 2day.
Sydney: Me neither. ☹
Even though they all have good reasons, it still stings a little that no one is free to hang out. I charge my phone across the room and lie back on my bed.
I try to fall back asleep, but my mind is racing. I practice the mindfulness stuff I learned at camp, but it’s not working. I pick up my bat mitzvah stuff again, but I’m too distracted to focus on it. I finally decide to look through the honors track packet that arrived over the summer, but my heart starts pounding on the first page.
School stress, bat mitzvah stress, home stress; Kaylan away, friends are busy.
My heart pounds, and I feel sweat beads forming on the top of my forehead. The more I lie here, the more stressed I feel.
I decide to call the one person who always makes me feel better, no matter what is happening.
“Hi, Bub,” I say as soon as she answers. Don’t say anything about Dad. Don’t say anything about Dad, I repeat in my head over and over again.
“Hello, my darling!” Whenever I call, she greets me on the phone like I’m the Queen of England. “How are you, my girl?”
“Good,” I say. “Well, kind of bored. Kaylan’s away this week.”
“Oh. With who?”
“Her dad. And brother.”
“That’s nice that she’s getting along with her dad again,” Bubbie replies.
“Yeah. That’s true.”
“You okay, Ar?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “Getting ready for the big day?”
I sigh. “Yeah, I guess. I dunno. It’s kind of a lot to do.”
“My money’s on you,” Bubbie tells me. She says this every time I doubt myself, no matter what. And when she says it, I kind of believe her—that I can do whatever I need to do and make it happen.
“Thanks, Bub.” I pause, feeling tears crinkling in the corners of my eyes. I better get off the phone before I slip about anything I shouldn’t slip about. “Gem wants to play Twister so I better go.”
“Okay; you’re such a good sister.”
“Thanks, Bub. Love you.”
“Love you more.” She laughs.
I hang up the phone and walk over to my window to see if Jason’s outside. He’s not. Then I walk back to my closet and scan the hangers for a first-day outfit. Nothing looks good, and I can’t even ask my mom to go shopping.
I focus on my breathing. In. And out. In. And out.
It’s okay. I can handle all of this.
Nothing in the world feels easy right now, but that doesn’t mean I need to freak out.
I can stay calm.
It’s totally possible.
NINETEEN
MY DAD’S NOT HOME FOR dinner, so I decide I’ll make the mac and cheese tomorrow night instead. He tells us he’s going to meet with his friend Bruce, who may have some leads for him on new jobs. So it’s just Mom, Gemma, and me at the table, and no one’s talking at all.
My mom made spaghetti and meatballs, but it doesn’t taste as good as it usually does. The meatballs are dry, and the sauce is watery. I think she forgot to add garlic. Nothing tastes right.
Gemma reads a book at the table, while my mom looks through a file of bank statements.
Lovely dinner company.
When I can’t handle staring at them anymore, I take out my cell phone and scroll through my email and my texts, and when I see nothing new there, I check Instagram to see if Kaylan has posted any new photos from the trip.
A strip of “people you may know” accounts pops up, and I see that while I was away Cami and June have both joined Instagram. Amirah too.
I click on Cami’s profile, and instantly my body feels like it’s been scorched.
Right there in front of me is a picture of Cami, June, Sydney, Amirah, M.W., Kira, and Marie, posted eleven minutes ago.
They’re all at the Ice Cream Shop, eating the super-mega cones—the ones with the Rice Krispies treats on the outside, and the sprinkles and the Oreo crumbles.
I just texted them earlier! They said they were maybe going to meet up tonight. And then they didn’t even text me or invite me. Or ask me to come.
I put the phone screen-down on the table and go back to my plate.
Just put it out of your mind, I tell myself.
Stop thinking about it.
Is it really even a big deal?
You don’t like them anyway.
Who cares?
None of that works because I do care. Because it is a big deal. Because they’re clearly a crew, and I’m not part of it, and maybe they don’t even want me to hang out with them anymore.
I never knew a happy picture of some girls eating ice cream could make me feel so isolated and terrible and left out. Sometimes you know you’re not a part of something, and it stings. But to see it righ
t in front of your face—it’s the ickiest, slimiest feeling. Like there’s something majorly wrong with you, and you might never figure out what it is.
Gemma and I go into the den to watch TV after that, but I don’t pay attention to a single thing I see on the screen. My head is in a million different places. And I wonder if I should text the lunch table girls and find out why they didn’t invite me. Should I call them out on it?
But that will only make me seem even more pathetic.
I can’t.
Thankfully, a few minutes later my phone buzzes on the coffee table.
I see that it’s Alice and pick it up right away and run up the stairs to my room.
“Hi,” I say, sounding gloomy.
“Um, you sound like your puppy ran away. I know you don’t have a puppy, though.” She pauses. “What’s up?”
I sniffle, holding back tears. “Well, where to start? So my dad lost his job. My bat mitzvah party isn’t happening really, and all of the girls I sort of hang with at school got together without me tonight!”
“Ari, my love!” Alice exclaims. “That’s completely terrible. All on the same day?”
I sigh. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“You need to reach out to Hana and Zoe, too. Tell them what’s up. Okay?”
“Um, I was planning to tell them. But why right now?” I slump back against my pillows, grateful to hear Alice’s voice on the other end of the phone.
“It sounds cheesy but that’s what friends are for. Duh. You need to lean on people in hard times, Ar.” Alice sighs. “We’re here for you.”
“Thanks, AlKal. I love you tons.”
“Ditto, Noddie.”
I change into my pajamas and get into bed early, reading over the honors track packet and trying to strategize. Eventually, I aim to fall asleep, but I can’t.
I remember what Alice said about leaning on people, so I decide to email the camp girls since they all have a “no texting after ten p.m.” rule.
Hi, Lovies:
The craziest stuff is happening here. My dad lost his job and now there are going to be some adjustments to my bat mitzvah party. I don’t even really know what that means. Also, the girls I was friends with last year went out for ice cream tonight and didn’t invite me and then posted a photo on Instagram! I mean, how could they do that? If you’re going to go out and not invite someone, the least you can do is not post about it. Am I right?
Ugh. I miss you guys so much. You’re the only ones who get me.
My mom is crazy stressed. And those girls are always telling me my boobs are so big all of a sudden. WAHHHH. Did I have big boobs all summer and not realize it?
Why can’t we still be at camp?
I love you all.
Ari
After that, I still can’t fall asleep. I know people say not to use screens in bed, that it only leads to insomnia, but I have so much on my mind, I need to get it out somehow.
I type and erase and type and erase at least ten texts to Kaylan, but finally I decide to send it.
Maybe she’ll have some explanation for the lunch table girls.
Ari: Yo. U asleep?
Kaylan: no, my bro & my dad r both snoring. Grrrr
Ari: having fun tho?
Kaylan: kinda yeah. IDK. Hard 2 explain.
Kaylan: how r u?
Ari: lunch table girls insta’d 2 night & didn’t invite me even tho I texted earlier
Kaylan: hmm
Ari: ??
Kaylan: they prob 4got b/c u were away 4 so long
Ari: IDK seems weird
Kaylan: want me 2 text them?
Ari: noooooooo
Kaylan: k. what else is up?
I debate texting her about my dad, but it’s too much to type.
Ari: not much sleepy
Kaylan: k nighty night
Kaylan: oh! We went 2 a comedy club here! So amaze. Def my passion! Going to pursue.
Ari: duh.
Kaylan: just reconfirmed it
Ari: k bye
I cry myself to sleep that night, not because I’m sad, really. I don’t actually know why I’m crying. It just feels like things are shifting in this very slow way. Like every day I’m farther and farther away from the person I used to be. I don’t know this new person—the girl who feels overwhelmed, like things are slightly out of control. The girl who apparently has big boobs all of a sudden.
I didn’t get a say in any of this.
As soon as Kaylan gets home, I’m going to tell her that none of her planning makes a difference or makes any sense at all.
Things just happen, without us knowing when or how or even why.
They just happen.
TWENTY
Ari,
We love you so much. We are always here for you. And we’d never leave you out and never Insta without you. We think you’re the best. Of course we get you. The four of us are soul mates. Don’t worry about your bat mitzvah party. We’ll rock whatever it is, whenever it is, and make sure it’s amazing.
We love you!
Alice
Dearest Ari,
I just asked my dad if I could take the train by myself so I could visit you and give you a hug. He said no, but we will be near your town in a few weeks and we are definitely hanging. You’re amazing. Don’t ever forget it! XOXO Zoe
Ari, Zoe and Alice have said all I wanted to say. So I will just add that those girls are totally sucky. You don’t need home friends when you have amazing camp friends like us. You rock! MWAH! Hana
We go back and forth emailing all week, and we FaceTime, too, and it almost feels like we’re back together again. Almost.
I spend the rest of the time practicing for my bat mitzvah and considering what my passion might be so I can eventually pursue it and mostly trying to calm my mom down.
I write a rough draft of my speech but then delete the whole thing because it’s not what I want to say. I don’t know what I want to say. I don’t really know what Judaism or my bat mitzvah mean to me, and I don’t know how it relates to the Life of Sarah.
Sometimes I’ll get a twinkle of an inkling of what I want to say, but then it doesn’t feel completely right and sort of just fades away.
TWENTY-ONE
EVENTUALLY KAYLAN GETS HOME, THE afternoon before school starts, and we FaceTime first-day outfits.
“I love that plaid dress,” Kaylan says. “And it’s so lucky it’s going to be a chilly first day of school so you can wear it.”
I nod. “Yeah, I feel good about it.”
“You think the overalls are too much?” Kaylan asks me. “Like trying too hard for first day or cute and funky?”
I pause. “Cute and funky, I think. Especially with the stripes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise!”
“Okay, we’re good to go then.” Kaylan sits back on her bed. “Cami and June were also into the overalls. But Amirah and M.W. weren’t sure, so thanks for confirming.”
“You FaceTimed all of them to discuss first-day outfits?” I feel that sting again, the left-out sting I felt when I saw the ice cream photos.
“Yeah, they’re all super obsessed with group Face-Timing,” Kaylan explains. “They haven’t tried it with you?”
I shake my head. “No, but I’ve been busy this week, practicing for my bat mitzvah and stuff.”
Kaylan nods. “Okay, well, it’s cool.” She looks away for a second and then back at the screen. “How come you and Marie aren’t close anymore?”
I shrug. “Not sure, really. We didn’t keep in touch when I was away, and when I got back, she was all BFF with the other girls.”
“Well, it’ll even out at school,” Kaylan says. “So much to catch you up on from the trip with my dad. Can’t believe I got back today! How insane?”
“Insane,” I repeat. “Okay, I gotta go to make the mac and cheese for my parents. I really think I’ve mastered it! Crushing up the Cheez-Its makes all the difference. See you at the bus. Oh! Remind me to tell you
about my bad habit tomorrow!”
“Ooh! Okay.”
I go down to the kitchen and find my mom at the table looking through a pile of papers. “You sure you want to make dinner, Ari? Night before the first day of school and everything?”
“I do! I need to!”
“Huh? Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I don’t need to. I just want to.” I laugh, forgetting my mom doesn’t really know about the list. “Anyway, you’re all under so much stress. I figured this would be a nice treat.”
“Thank you.” She goes back to her papers.
I turn on the water to boil the pasta and then I mix all the cheese together. I don’t have any of Kaylan’s fancy cheese from France, but the thing is, I don’t think I need it. And my version of perfect mac and cheese doesn’t need to be the same as hers. We can both master it, using our own methods.
It’s not like everyone in the world makes mac and cheese the same exact way. How boring would that be?
I do bake it this time, though. And I mush up the Cheez-Its as a topping this time instead of just throwing them in whole.
When it’s in the oven, my mom finally gets up from the table and helps me put out plates and forks and napkins and glasses of ice water.
“Dinner, everyone!” I call.
Gemma bolts down the stairs ready to dig in, and my dad comes in a second later. I sigh with relief when I notice he’s changed out of his sick robe and into jeans and a T-shirt.
“Smells delicious,” he says, but there’s no feeling in his tone, no emotion in his voice. He’s basically robot dad, programmed to say what he’s supposed to say.
“I’ll serve everyone.” I scoop perfect portions onto plates, careful not to mess up the topping.
“Wow, this is amazing, Ari!” Gemma squeals. “This is literally the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“Really?” I take a bite.
“It is good,” my dad chimes in. “I’m not just saying that because I have to.”
We all crack up.
Even my mom is eating, and I’m not sure I’ve seen her consume more than a few bites at any meal since I’ve been home from camp.
“It’s delicious,” my mom says, putting her hand on mine. “Who knew we had a chef in our midst?”
12 Before 13 Page 10
