The intercom buzzed early on Monday morning. It was Sal, the doorman, letting me know Rebecca was on her way up.
"You're early," I said by way of greeting when she came upstairs. I could tell she was nervous about her first-day-of-school outfit, even though she looked the way she always looks-perfect. She dropped her backpack on the floor near the gold-framed mirror in the hall, scowling at her reflection. She stopped, turning to face me.
"You're wearing that today?" she asked, surveying my outfit.
"Uh, yeah," I said. I had spent the entire weekend putting it together, and frankly, I'd nailed it: white tights, vintage blue-and-green plaid school-uniform skirt, black extra-high-top sneaker boots, and one of Daddy's sprung-out old concert tees. "What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing, just-on the first day? I mean, everyone's going to be wearing new clothes."
"These are new," I said. Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "New to me, anyway." Rebecca wouldn't be caught dead wearing vintage.
"It looks cool," she admitted, backpedaling now. "But you could have saved it for tomorrow."
"Like I'm gonna wear a Catholic-school skirt to Hebrew school?" I snorted. "Please."
Rebecca busied herself futzing with her stick-straight hair, as if she could ever get it to do anything other than what it wanted. She viciously pushed a strand behind her ear. Then she shifted her focus back to her clothes, experimenting with opening and closing the top button of the striped oxford shirt she wore beneath a brand-new green cashmere sweater. She wrinkled her nose like a bunny, turning her head from side to side, trying to catch her own profile. Mum came out of her office then.
"Don't you look nice, Rebecca. That green sweater suits you. You know, I have a scarf with that exact color running through it… Would you like to borrow it? Tara, is that what you're wearing to school?"
"Can I?" Rebecca breathed. I thought she was going to perish with joy right on the spot. Rebecca definitely has a mom-crush on my mother.
I sighed and grabbed Rebecca by the arm, pulling her toward the front door. "Come on," I said. "We're going to be late. You wouldn't want that to happen on the first day, would you? Start the year off with a deficit to your perfect attendance record?"
When we got downstairs, Ben-o was already in the lobby, talking to Sal. Mrs. Donovan, my next-door neighbor, was perched on the bench near the mailboxes, clucking disapprovingly.
"Young man, where are your big-boy shoes?" she demanded.
Ben-o looked down. Once again, he'd tucked his shirt neatly into his pants, but on his feet was a cheap pair of rubber flip-flops. He grinned sheepishly. "Nothing else fits me," he said.
It was true. I'd heard Mrs. O telling Mum that he'd already outgrown the new basketball shoes he got for back-to-school, and how it was too late to bring them back because he'd scuffed them up.
"Don't worry, Mrs. D," he reassured her. "My mom is taking me shopping after school today."
Mrs. D grumbled something about the "crazy stuff" that "kids today" wear, which would never have been tolerated "in my day," and something about "respect for the institution," the "destructive influence of video games," and a "rampant irreverence toward all that is holy." Behind her back, Sal mimicked her fluttery hand gestures and the shocked expression on her face. It was all we could do to keep a straight face.
When we got outside, I saw Sheila Rosenberg up ahead with Missy Abrams-which was odd, because Missy didn't live nearby. But no one wanted to walk into school alone on the first day.
I pretended not to see them. Missy Abrams is all right, but Sheila Rosenberg is a major know-it-all. Last year she told me that my dad could never be buried in a Jewish cemetery because of the pi tattoo on his left arm-which he got the year all his seniors passed the AP calculus exam. I told her it didn't matter, because A, he's not dying, and B, both my parents are going to be cremated. I didn't know if that was true, but Nanaji had been cremated, so it popped into my head. Sheila had seemed troubled by this information, but she didn't say anything until Hebrew school, when she actually asked Mrs. Moskowitz if Jews were allowed to be cremated! As if it was any of her business.
"Hey, Sheila!" Rebecca yelled now. "Hey, Missy!" They both stopped, smiled, and waved in unison. They waited for us to catch up. Great.
"What are you doing?" I hissed.
"What?" said Rebecca. "I'm just being friendly. God. Sheila's in my homeroom."
I didn't get time to ask her how she knew that.
"Hi, Rebecca," said Sheila. "Hello, Tara. Hello, Ben."
Missy then greeted each of us by name, too.
"Hey, everyone," I said, impatient to move it along.
Ben-o jerked his chin at them and said, "'Sup."
We all compared homerooms. Missy was in Ben-o's, and she said Jenna Alberts was, too. The only person I knew for sure was in my homeroom was Aisha Khan, because Mum and I had bumped into her at the dentist the week before. We'd planned to meet up in front of school at 8:40.
I caught sight of her as we came around the last corner, near the basketball courts. I waved for her to join us.
"Guess who's in our class?" she asked, not even waiting for me to answer. "Ryan Berger."
"Ugh," I said. Ryan Berger is a major goon.
Aisha shrugged. "He's cute," she said.
"He only dates Jewish girls," Sheila observed.
I stared at her with my mouth open. What a rude thing to say.
"She only said he's cute," I said. "Not that I agree. No offense, Aisha."
"None taken." Aisha shrugged. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm not allowed to date anyone, ever."
"You mean, like, until high school?" Rebecca asked innocently.
"I mean, like, until I get married," Aisha replied. Rebecca laughed, but I'm pretty sure Aisha wasn't kidding. Her parents are really old-school.
I quickly steered the subject back to Ryan Berger. "Since when does he date?" I asked Sheila.
"Well, not literally, but he's only allowed to date Jewish people when he does start dating."
"Then there's hope for you yet, Sheila," I said. Rebecca poked me in the ribs. Ben-o smirked.
***
Ryan Berger was all over me in homeroom. He kept asking me questions, like-"Who'd you get for English?" And I was like, "Galvez-honors class." And then he was like, "Is your friend Rebecca in that class?" And I was like, "Yeah, and P.E. and Social Studies, too." And he was like, "What about Hebrew school?" And I was like, "I don't know yet. We'll find out tomorrow. Why are you asking me so many questions about Rebecca?" And he was like, "No reason. I'm just used to seeing you together." And I was like, "What about Ben-o?" And he was like, "What about him?" And then-"Hey, are you doing any sports this year?" And I was like, "No, but I'm doing Robotics."
After that, thankfully, he turned to Aisha and asked her a couple hundred questions. It turned out they had four classes together. Aisha sighed happily.
Ms. Ross was trying to get everyone to sit down, her high, nasal voice barely audible over the noise of everyone talking and laughing and moving chairs around. Ryan sat down at the desk next to me.
"You can't sit there, Ryan. Aisha and I want to sit together," I said. He got up and moved forward one seat but turned sideways to face me. "Where's your sidekick?" I added.
"Why are you obsessing about Adam?" he teased, his hard little eyes glinting.
"I'm not-I'm just not used to seeing you apart."
"He's in Mr. H's homeroom."
"So's Ben-o," I said. "They're lucky."
Ryan shrugged. I turned my head, trying to get a sideways glimpse of him without staring directly. I'd always been fascinated by those eyes-so glittery and hard, you couldn't even tell what color they were. They just reflected back at you, like broken glass. Looking into them made my eyes tear up, but not with emotion. More like an allergy, or staring into a flashlight. You can't trust a person like that.
Ms. Ross distributed some home-information forms she said we had to fill out before the bell rang. Ryan asked Aisha if he could borrow a pen.
"You don't have a pen on the first day of school?" I asked.
"It's okay," Aisha said, fishing one out of her backpack. "You can keep it."
"Thanks," said Ryan, tossing it in the air a few times. Then he missed and it skidded across the room, under the radiator. Ms. Ross wouldn't let him go get it, so he put his head down on the table while the rest of us filled out our forms. He pretended to snore, which made Aisha giggle.
There was a tap at the back door of the classroom, and I looked up to see Ben-o in the hallway, motioning for me to come out. He grinned.
I raised my hand, but Ross was so busy bleating instructions at everyone that she didn't see.
"May I have the hall pass?" I called out. "My stomach hurts."
Ms. Ross is maybe twenty-two years old and looks like she's terrified of kids. Which is understandable, because she's shorter than most of the boys in the seventh grade. She was brand-new last year and had a reputation for sending kids to the principal's office for almost no reason. She was in way over her head.
"I'm finished," I added, waving the form.
Ryan looked up. "Gimme your pen," he mouthed, so I tossed it to him. This time he caught it.
Ms. Ross hesitated, eyeing me with suspicion, but I put on a good show of pretending my stomach hurt, and she relented. She motioned me to her desk and handed me the pass.
"Be back in five minutes," she said.
I slipped out into the hall, where Ben-o was waiting.
"How's Mr. H's class?" I said.
"Awesome," Ben-o said, smiling.
"So lucky. Ross has lost control already."
Ben-o snorted. "How's Berger?"
"Totally annoying. He might have a crush on Rebecca."
"I don't think so," Ben-o said.
"Whatever," I said. "What are you doing out here?"
"I forgot to give you this." He reached into his back pocket and handed me a small book with a fancy teal cover, like cool wallpaper, secured with a silver elastic strap.
"Thanks!" I said. "What is it?"
"It's a datebook-like a planner. Do you like it? I got one, too, in black. Mom says I need to get organized… See, you can put your schedule here, and there's a separate place to write down homework assignments."
"Cool," I said. "It's really pretty, too-"
Ben-o blushed.
"-but I didn't get you anything."
"That's okay," Ben-o said. "It wasn't, like, a planned thing. I just saw it and thought you would like it."
"I have to get back now," I said.
"Me, too," Ben-o said. "See you later."
"Yeah."
Since when did Ben-o buy me presents? He was always saving up for something-a remote-controlled helicopter or some electronic gizmo. I mean, probably his mom had paid for this, but still. I went back into the classroom and put the hall pass on Ross's desk.
"What's that?" asked Aisha when I sat down.
"A datebook. Ben-o gave it to me."
"Can I see?" I handed it to her and she flipped through the pages. "This is really cool," she said. "Do you know where he got it?"
I shook my head. "You can ask him at lunch."
"Present from your boyfriend?" Ryan asked, a mocking glint in those hard little eyes.
"He's not my boyfriend," I said.
"Then why'd he get you a date book?"
"It's a calendar, stupid."
The bell rang and it was time for a real class-Honors English. With Rebecca. I gathered my things and waved good-bye to Aisha. I didn't wave good-bye to Berger. I didn't even ask for my pen back.
***
Mr. Galvez let us choose our own seats for Honors English, so I got to sit next to Rebecca.
"What's that?" she wanted to know as soon as we sat down.
"My new planner. Ben-o gave it to me."
"Let me see," she demanded, putting out her hand. I didn't mind, because I hadn't written anything in it yet. I handed it to her and she flipped through the pages the way Aisha had. I saw her pause on a page, and then she snapped the book shut.
"Hmm," she said.
"Hmm?" I replied.
"Nothing," she said. "Just, since when does he give you stuff?"
I was wondering the same thing, but I didn't think it was a big deal.
"It's not a big deal," I said.
"Okay," Rebecca said, handing it back to me. She gave me a funny look. "If you say so."
