"What's so funny?" Mitch asks. "I'm hurting here and all you can do is laugh?"
Have you ever tried to make other people think you're having a good time when you're not? What sucks is when the person you're with doesn't get it. They need to play along, but you can't tell them for fear of being discovered. Play along with me, Mitch.
"I can't wait to go camping with you," I say.
Let Snotty and all of them realize I have someone back home waiting for me. For some reason I'll feel like less of a loser here for hanging out by myself every day.
"What's wrong with you?" he says. "You hate camping."
"Of course I do," I say, then giggle again.
Giggling doesn't come naturally to me, but I do a pretty good job of making it sound authentic. I think.
Although my boyfriend now thinks I'm a freakoid.
"What about our tickets to the BoDeans concert at Ravinia for next weekend?" he says. "I spent fourteen bucks on those tickets, along with the extra thirty I spent on the Renaissance Faire tickets. You said you'd go with me."
Thankfully, the group heads outside. I let out a breath because I can finally be myself again.
I turn back around in the chair and stare at a flying spider-like thingy near the ceiling.
"Yeah, well that was before I got sucked into going to a country infested with
Ferragamo-stealing mutts and flying spiders."
"Huh?"
"Forget it. I wish I could be there with you, really I do."
God, I hope he doesn't ask Roxanne Jeffries to go out with him. She's his next-door neighbor and has been flirting with him all year. He even told me she undresses with the curtains wide open.
"Say, I've got an awesome idea. Take Jessica. She's not doing anything this summer except working at a day camp for kids. She'll go with you." And she'll keep an eye on you for me.
"Don't you think it'd be weird if I go out with your best friend?"
"It's not like it'd be romantic or anything."
Jessica doesn't even think Mitch is cute. She's told me he reminds her of a poodle on Prozac. Everyone's entitled to an opinion. Mom always says, "Opinions are like ass**les, everybody's got one and everyone thinks everyone else's stinks." It's true.
"I guess I could call her," he finally says.
"Tell her I miss her."
"Sure. When are you coming back?"
If I can manipulate Ron, very soon. "Before school starts, but who knows." We both go to Chicago Academy, a private high school.
He yawns. "Have fun."
As if. "You, too. Don't miss me too much."
He gives a short laugh before saying, "Bye, Amy."
I think I hear the phone click before I answer, "Bye."
CHAPTER 13
A star is just a star. Or is it?
It's nine o'clock the next morning and I'm bored, as usual. I eat breakfast, alone again, as I watch Sofia sit in her chair. Snotty came home late last night, her friends all laughing and making noise at two o'clock in the morning. I hate to admit it, but I'm sorry I stayed home. With the exception of Snotty and Avi, hanging with the group is kind of fun.
"Your aba wants you to go to the sheeps. He's waiting for you," Sofia says.
"I don't want to."
I know I sound like a little kid, but why go into detail and hurt the ol' woman.
"He misses you."
What? He wouldn't miss me even if I disappeared from this earth.
"I don't think so," I say as I stuff hummus into a pita and take a bite.
"He loves his homeland and wants to share it with you."
I have a mouth full of hummus as I blurt out, "Why doesn't he move back here if he loves it so much?"
"I bet you know the answer to that question, Amy. He stays away because of you. You're his family. His future. His blood. Wherever you are is his home now."
I kneel beside her while I listen to her voice. It's soothing, and when she talks it almost sounds like a lullaby. I'm loud. My mom is loud. I talk loud. I walk loud. I'm just a loud person. But this old lady is like cotton, everything about her is soft and quiet. She leans over and takes something out of her pocket.
"Hold out your hand," she says.
I hold my hand out. She drops something into it and gently closes my fingers over my palm.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Look at it."
I open my fist and look at a small gold and diamond Jewish star glittering in the center of my palm. It's attached to a thin gold necklace. The star is smaller than a nickel, just big enough to know what it is, but small enough to be almost...private.
I don't know what to say to her. Being Jewish isn't a part of me. Mom doesn't believe in religion so I've never been to church except for my cousin's wedding. I've never been to a synagogue, either, except for Jessica's bat mitzvah.
"I'd like you to have it," Safta says. "It's called the Magen David, the star of David."
Man, I want it. I don't know why I want it, but I do. I'm not Jewish and would feel like a huge faker if I did take it. I mean, I could never wear it or anything. It's just so shiny and glittery and it actually means something important to Safta.
"I can't take this," I say. When I note the disappointment in the eyes that are an exact replica of mine I add, "It's too beautiful."