"I'll come. Just remember to be nice to Miranda. She's sensitive."
"I'm always nice," I say, then hang up.
I wrap myself in a robe and wait for Jess and Miranda. Ten minutes later the doorman rings me to get my approval to let my friends up. When I open the door, Miranda is standing behind Jess, looking down at the ground. Miranda is wearing black stretch pants and a huge red sweater that hangs to her knees, as if she's trying to hide her body.
"Hi, Miranda," I say.
She manages a small "Hi," and follows Jess into the condo.
Leading them to my room, I open the door and Mutt, who was locked inside, goes right for poor Miranda's crotch.
"Leave her alone," I say to Mutt, who sniffs loudly then walks out of the room.
I open my closet doors. "Okay, what should I wear?"
I admit I've been blessed with a mom who came up with the Everyone's a star at Starbucks campaign. Don't knock it. My entire wardrobe was probably paid with jingles and slogans my mom created. The Don't Baby Me slogan for Precious Baby Finger Foods was a big hit along with the jingle If you know someone who needs someone, call 1-800-Therapy.
"Are those real Jimmy Choo shoes?" Miranda asks, wide-eyed.
My mom brought them back for me from a fashion show in New York last year. "Yeah. Want to try them on?"
Miranda takes a step back. "Oh, no. I'm so heavy I'd probably break the heel."
"Don't be ridiculous," I say, then grab the shoes and hand them to her. They're slingback and will practically fit anyone. "Just don't let my dog lick them."
Miranda hesitates, then slowly reaches out and takes them from my outstretched hand.
I look over at Jess when Miranda sits on the edge of my bed to take her gym shoes off and put the Jimmy Choos on. She's rummaging through my closet, taking stuff out and laying it over her arm. "I'll give you choices."
"Thanks, Mommy," I say sarcastically.
Jessica rolls her eyes as she lays out the outfit I wore on my last date with Avi. I know it sounds lame, but it's sacred. The memories of that night are attached to that skirt and top. I'm absolutely not wearing it. "Nope. Next."
She holds out a ripped jeans/tight sweater combination. "Nope. Too alternative."
A knock at the door interrupts us. "Amy, it's me." My dad.
When I tell him to come in, he surveys the clothes strewn around the room and Miranda trying to balance in the Choos. "You girls putting on a fashion show? I'll give you money if you'll make Amy clean her room."
"Dad, don't be a dork," I tell him, pushing him out of the room before he embarrasses me more. "I'm going to the youth group meeting tonight. Remember?"
"I remember. But I thought you said it started at four."
"It does."
He checks his watch. "It's five to. You better hurry."
When he's gone, I see the third outfit Jess has picked for me. Dark blue jeans and a simple pink long-sleeve tee with a gold O at the top. While I'm shimmying into the jeans, Miranda stumbles in the Choos over to my nightstand and picks up the picture of Avi. "Is he your boyfriend?"
Jess bites her bottom lip, probably to keep herself from blurting out, "He's her non-boyfriend."
I hesitate before saying, "Kind of."
Miranda looks from the picture of Avi to me. "He's a hottie."
A little part of my heart flips over. Turning around, I finish dressing and say, "I'm ready. Let's go," because I don't want to talk about him. I haven't even written him back and I don't call him at home because I don't want to act like stalker-girlfriend. I'm confused. I hate feeling like this.
When we arrive at the youth group meeting at the synagogue, I'm surprised at the amount of kids here. There must be at least forty kids hanging around the social hall. Some kids I recognize from school, but most I've never seen in my life.
A dark, curly-haired guy with a kippah on his head who's probably in his thirties tries to quiet everyone down.
"He's Rabbi Doug, the new assistant rabbi," Jess tells me.
Miranda stays close to Jess's side as we find a vacant place on the floor to sit. It takes a while for everyone else to shut up, but finally all eyes are on Rabbi Doug.
"Is everybody ready to build a sukkah for our play?"
Ask me a year ago and I couldn't tell you what a sukkah was. Now I know it's a small structure where you invite family and friends to eat the "harvest meal." Normally Jews build a sukkah sometime near October for the holiday of Sukkot, but the youth group is putting on a play for the Hebrew school students about the holidays and the sukkah is being built tonight.
Rabbi Doug proceeds to have us count off so we're in different groups. I'm in a group with a bunch of kids I don't know. This guy who assigns himself the leader of our group has us meet in the hallway.
A girl with curly black hair and bushy eyebrows is in my group, along with a couple of other girls and a bunch of guys. I sit next to Bushy Brow and give her a small smile.
"I'm Nikki. With an z," she says.
Oh, no. Flashbacks of my stepfather, Marc with a c, slam into my consciousness. "I'm Amy. With a y" I say back.
"Where do you go to school?"
"Chicago Academy. Where do you go?"
At the mention of Chicago Academy, Nikki blinks twice. What is it with people lately? I swear you'd think Chicago Academy was synonymous with School For Brats. "Mather," she replies.