by Justin Sayre
We eat the most amazing eggs Benedict I’ve ever had, with fancy French bread and jelly. We never stop talking. I ask her questions about her life and mine, and she answers each and every one of them. I never feel lied to or put off. Nothing is out of bounds. I even tell her about Noah and his eyes. “This boy I have to see.” She giggles at me.
When brunch is over, we get into a cab and go over to a store that is even fancier than the restaurant. It’s old and classy and the display windows outside are decorated with the most interesting and weird designs I’ve ever seen. When we walk through the doors, she asks a girl at the glove counter, yes, there’s a whole counter just for gloves, if Betsy is in and if she has a moment to spare. The girl calls up and Betsy comes down.
Betsy’s about my grandmother’s age, but like her, she’s sort of timeless. She’s sharp and funny and they laugh the minute they see each other. I feel like I’m being invited into a very small club.
“Well, what can we do for you, young woman?” Betsy asks me, looking me over with a raised eyebrow.
“She needs something for her bat mitzvah,” Bubbe chimes in. “And we’re thinking pants.”
“Pants, we can do,” says Betsy. “Follow me.”
Chapter 22
When I get home, I run upstairs, two at a time, head straight into my room, and close the door. I practically hurdled over Hannah, who chases me up the stairs, and after I close the door in her face, she is out there banging on it, asking to come in. I just need a minute by myself. It’s been a huge day, and as I sit on my bed with the garment bag from our little shopping spree, I’m feeling all sorts of things. Things I need to figure out alone. Hannah seems to disagree and keeps banging on the door, and I hear Dad follow her up the stairs and move her away from the door.
“Everything all right in there, Elle?” Dad asks through the door.
“Yes,” I yell back.
“How was your brunch?” Dad asks as he fights Hannah away from the door.
“It was great. Thanks.”
Dad hears the leave-me-alone in my voice and takes Hannah back downstairs, at least for a little while. She’ll be back. She’s always back. I just need a minute alone to think it all out.
Bubbe was so honest with me. She treated me like a real person, and alone in my room with this beautiful outfit she bought me, I feel so special. I feel loved. It’s not the outfit, though I can say that this is the first time ever in my life that I have loved a piece of clothing. It’s this feeling of being held. I feel held by my family. I feel their arms around me and the love in the squeeze. It’s amazing. I feel very lucky to know this feeling and I want to sit with it for a minute.
I hang up the outfit without taking it out of the bag and start to check my phone. There’s, like, twenty texts. A few all caps from my aunt about finding a dress. A few from Sophie about the same problem, but way gentler. A few from Ducks about Charlie, and finally, two from Noah. His I reply to first.
Or at least I try to, I don’t know what to say. I feel a little strange about Noah at the moment, not because I don’t like him, I seriously do, but what good is liking him as much as I do if in a few months we’re moving to Cleveland? It’s so strange how something so wonderful can be sad at the same time. I don’t want to hurt him, and I don’t want to hurt myself either. I don’t want to leave him. I don’t want to leave any of them.
I start to think about leaving. It scrolls through my head on a loop. I’m leaving Ducks, and Sophie, and Charlie. I have to say goodbye to them. Just a few seconds ago, I felt so held, and now I feel so dropped. I don’t want to say goodbye to anyone. Not my friends. Not Noah. Even saying goodbye to Allegra will be, well, that will actually be great, but the rest, that’s going to be awful.
And Brooklyn. Leaving Brooklyn is going to be terrible. I know not everyone loves where they live. I know some people grow up in places where they don’t feel like they fit, or they don’t feel like there’s enough to keep them happy, but Brooklyn has everything for me. I fit here. I can’t imagine fitting anywhere else. So after making text bubbles for what seems like an hour to reply to Noah, I decide on sending nothing. It just seems easier.
When I go downstairs, Hannah tackles me and asks me where I went. I tell her and Dad about the brunch and the shopping. About getting an outfit for my bat mitzvah. Dad seems happy about it, but I can’t really tell. He seems distracted by a thousand other things, which truthfully is often how my dad seems. But then out of nowhere he asks, “Well, are you going to show us?” He’s smiling and pulling Hannah over to the couch to get ready for some sort of fashion show that they’re both expecting me to put on, so I go and get dressed.
While I’m back upstairs, I hear Mom get home and ask Dad about where I am and how the brunch was. He tells her that they’re waiting for me to come down and show everybody what I got. I tie up the top, and look once in the mirror, just to check. It still looks good, not as good as in the store, but I don’t have two adoring old ladies hovering over me, telling me how beautiful I look. I take a picture of the outfit and send it to Sophie. She’s going to die over this look. I start down the stairs.
The outfit is long black pants with wide legs. They’re silky and flowing and feel great and freeing. The top is crushed silk, I guess, it’s textured in this beautiful way that shines in many different ways. There are no sleeves, but around the waist there’s this little black belt that ties it all together. I even sound like Sophie talking about clothes like this, but I can’t help it. I feel so great, and I’m wearing a regular bra. This outfit makes me feel powerful. I don’t worry about my boobs in this, because they’re part of me.
When I get down into the living room, everybody’s eyes start to bulge looking at me. Dad starts to cry, and Mom puts her hand over her mouth. Hannah starts to clap. I laugh at Dad, and he laughs back.
“You look so beautiful, Ellen,” Dad says as he wipes a tear away. “I’m so happy for you.”
When Mom finally uncovers her mouth, she says, “I love the pants. It’s gorgeous. You look so grown up.” Dad nods along, still trying to cover up a tear. Hannah rushes over to hug me, but Mom pulls her back. I don’t want to get this outfit dirty, so I rush back upstairs to take it off. In my room, I see I’ve missed four calls from Sophie.
“OOOOOOOOOHHHHHH MY GOOOOOODDDDD!!!! You look GOOOORRRGEOUUUUS!!!” Sophie screams into the phone. “How do you feel?” I laugh, but it makes me feel so good.
I love that she asks this and I tell her that I feel great. She starts talking about my hair and a little makeup but all of that can be decided later. Or at least I think so. She asks where I got the outfit so I tell her, about the store and Betsy and the brunch. She loves it all, but she loves me more, and I hear that come through on the phone.
“I’m sorry you weren’t there with me today,” I tell her.
“It’s okay. We’ll have shopping sprees all our own.” Sophie laughs. “Maybe not that big, but we got time.”
We don’t. I don’t want to tell her, but we don’t. So I make an excuse about dinner with my parents and get off the phone. Mom calls Aunt Debbie to tell her about the outfit, then makes me send her the picture I sent to Sophie. She loves it, and I can hear her screaming on the phone.
The rest of the evening is really slow. I text with Ducks a little. With Sophie. My parents order pizza and watch a movie after they put Hannah to bed. I go up early, just to be alone again. I’m more than a little weirded out that Mom and Dad haven’t said anything else about Cleveland, but maybe they’re waiting to have some sort of special family moment. I go up to my room and look at Noah’s texts but still don’t reply. I think about it, but don’t.
My phone rings a little later, and without looking at it, I pick it up, thinking its Ducks.
“So at least you answer the phone,” Noah says with a laugh.
“Oh, hey,” I try to say as lazily as I can, as if it’s not the biggest d
eal in the whole world that he’s calling me, because it is. “Sorry I didn’t text you. I was out with my grandmother today.”
“It’s cool. You’re not out tonight?” Noah asks.
“No. It was a long day. I finally got an outfit for the party and everything.”
“That’s cool.” Noah smiles. I know I can’t see him smile, but I feel it. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Umm, just hanging out a little. Nothing really major,” I answer.
“Well, could I hang out?” Noah asks.
“Sure. With me, right?” I say, so awkwardly I want my phone to melt in my hand from the red of my cheeks.
“Yeah, with you. Seriously, you, like, don’t think I like you or something.” Noah laughs and I try to laugh along, but I just sound fake.
“Well, do you?” I ask. Again, because I’m a very stupid person.
“Yeah.” Noah laughs again.
“But why?” I answer.
“Are you serious?” Noah says, but this time he isn’t laughing. “Ellen, I think you’re great. You’re super funny and cool. And you’re really pretty.”
“I am?” I ask. I can’t believe I’m this dumb, but I just keep being this dumb.
“I think you are. I mean, do you like me?” Noah asks.
“Yeah, you’re great,” I answer, trying not to spill my guts about how amazing, beautiful, smart, funny, and downright hot I think he is. I think Noah is hot. Like smoking hot. Sometimes he makes me feel like one of those awful construction workers who shout things at ladies on the street. I want to shout things at Noah.
“Well, how about tomorrow? Can we hang out?” Noah asks.
“Sure,” I answer. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Okay, cool. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Cool,” I answer back. I have no other words. None. I barely even say goodbye, because I’m just in so much shock and confusion. I’m pretty. Noah thinks I’m pretty and wants to hang out with me.
Even though I’m in bed, I know I’ll probably never be able to sleep again.
Chapter 23
All I think about is Noah. We’ve been talking a lot. On Sunday we rode bikes and got ice cream, and he told me the song he wants to dance with me to at my party. I think we’re in love, and everything else doesn’t seem to matter as much. Or at least not at the moment. All that matters is Noah. Noah. Noah.
Sometimes I think it’s just his name. I mean, it’s fun to say. Noah. Noooo-aaahh. But every time I say it, I think about him. His pretty sky-blue eyes and his black hair. His smile and the way he walks. The hair that peeks out of the top of his shirt. Noah. It’s all pretty great.
I know I shouldn’t like being like this, and I don’t, but I also so do. I don’t like that he has this power over me, but he does and it’s awesome. He doesn’t know he does, so he’s not like a menace about it. I wouldn’t just offer that up to him. I don’t want him to think he’s in charge. He’s not. He’s just a nice distraction at the moment. Everything’s swirling around me with the party and the family coming to town and the Torah and the elfin barge. Well, actually that got canceled, thank God. I get constant texts from Aunt Debbie about last-minute things for the party. She’s still saying no to cafeteria-style tater tots. Dad even called and made the case for them, but she’s still not buying it. If we don’t have a yes by Wednesday, we might have to call in Bubbe.
But . . . Wednesday. That’s when I see Noah.
See? Gross.
Hannah’s been having a tough time this week and that means that I’m having a tough time. She’s starting the night in my bed or at least she did Monday night. And Tuesday night. She has a tantrum if you don’t let her and neither Dad nor Rosalinda really has the patience this week to deal with that. I think it has something to do with the move. My parents told her on Monday, when I finally went to Sophie’s. They said she was pretty cool about it at first, but then she started packing. They thought it was cute at first, but then she started freaking out about me. She was worried I wasn’t coming with them. The minute I walked in the door, she tackled me and wouldn’t let go.
Sophie was great on Monday though, like she always is. We watched YouTube videos about makeup. We talked a lot about nothing, just stuff and TV and all that, but then there were moments where we really got into it. I told her about Noah, and she likes the sound of him, which made me happy. She’s not really into anybody at the moment. I think she’s still trying to figure that part out for herself and even though we didn’t talk about it then, I know we will.
“So, will he be at your bat mitzvah?” Sophie asks, poking me a little.
“Yeah, of course.” I smirk back. “The whole Hebrew school is invited.”
“So Allegra too then,” Sophie says. She doesn’t say it in any way to let me know what she thinks, she just says it, which leaves me with a lot of ways to go.
“Yeah. Ugh,” I say, trying to gauge where Sophie is with Allegra at the moment.
“I feel sorry for her, to be honest,” Sophie starts. “She’s so concerned with other people and other things. She doesn’t really have any idea about things that actually matter.”
“Like makeup tutorials and bras.” I laugh and Sophie laughs too.
“No. Like people. Like us,” Sophie says. “It’s hard to say about her, but I’ve never met anyone in the world who was, like, so lost. And when you see the things that could help her, when you know the things that could lead her out of all her crap, she just looks the other way. She doesn’t even believe there’s another way.”
“Well, not the cool way,” I respond. “I mean, she’s so stuck up. And she’s annoying on high. I mean, come on, Sophie. You don’t even talk to her anymore. You don’t have to make it out like you like her.”
“I do like her. I did. She was funny when she’d just relax. When she didn’t feel like you weren’t after whatever she had.”
“I wasn’t. I’m not.” I snort. I’m sort of lost as to where this conversation is going. Does she like Allegra or not?
“No one is. That’s the trick, she doesn’t get that nobody’s out to get her, but that also means to her that nobody wants her. And more than anything, she wants someone to want her. I don’t think she’s ever felt loved in her whole life.”
And in that moment, I feel sad for Allegra. I’m sure it’s easier to do because she’s not here. It’s easier to feel sorry for the idea of her as opposed to the eye-rolling, up-speaking reality of her. But it’s a moment of getting her, and getting past my own feelings about her. Getting that she’s like me and trying to figure it out. Getting that’s she’s on the brink of becoming something else, and scared and grasping at things that she thinks will keep her safe. I get her. It doesn’t mean I have to like her, but in getting her, I can’t hate her.
Things are very different when we get into school on Wednesday. Apparently Allegra’s mad at me, for not thanking her for not telling on me with the rabbi about skipping Hebrew school last week. She doesn’t tell me this herself, no. She tells Kristy, who’s in our math class, and Kristy tells Ducks.
“What are you going to do about it?” Ducks asks me at lunch that day.
“Nothing,” I answer, and that’s exactly what I do. I watch Allegra ignore me from across the room, huff past me on her way to her locker, and point to me when she’s talking with a few other girls at lunch, but I do nothing. Really, nothing, and all that nothing drives her insane. It finally gets too much for her.
We start walking to Hebrew school, separately of course, but keeping an eye on each other. Don’t doubt it. We walk the first few blocks at least a block apart and there’s a few times when I think about turning down any random street I can, just to throw her off, but then I ask myself why I have to play any part in this game at all. Why is this my problem? And the truth of it is, it isn’t.
When we’re only a few blocks awa
y, she stops to “check her phone,” yeah, right, and then looks right at me and says, “Oh, so you decided to, like, show up today?”
“Yup,” I say and keep on walking. She tries to catch up a little.
“Rabbi’s going to be so mad. You shouldn’t have cut so close to your bat mitzvah, I mean, like, isn’t it this weekend?”
“It is. But I made up the time and talked to her about missing. We’re cool.” I smile.
She looks like she almost doesn’t know what to do with this. I’ve taken the air right out of her huff, and she’s still mad, or pretending to be. She follows me for a while after that. Not saying anything because there really isn’t anything else to say. So I do.
“Are you coming?” I ask her. “To my party?”
“I guess. I mean, yeah, I think.”
“Good. It’s going to be fun. I think.” I smile, and when I get to the door I open it for her to walk into school in front of me. I can be a lady and a gentleman even if she’s not being either. When I get into the classroom, Noah’s sitting up front, near where I usually sit. He’s so sweet like that. He smiles that gorgeous smile at me, and squints those blue eyes, and I’m not afraid to say it, but I want to tackle him to the floor right at that moment, with all these people watching. Maybe this is where Hannah gets it. Maybe it’s a family thing.
I sit down, and Noah tells me how excited he is to hang out after class. I just say, “Me too.” Because they’re the only words I can get out without gushing about how cute and nice and gorgeous and wonderful he is right there. Luckily Rabbi Jessica comes in at that moment and calls me to the front. She’s looking worried, and I’m getting worried that maybe I am in more trouble than I thought.
“Ellen, I got a call from your father. You need to get a cab and go to Lenox Hill Hospital. I have the address here for you.” She hands me a sticky note with the address and takes me out into the hallway.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.