The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah (11 page)

All Things That Go Around

Today was make-up day for pictures. There was only a handful of us here in the library—everybody who'd missed getting their picture taken for one reason or another. Being absent, getting to school late, or crawling around on your hands and knees when your name was called.

Stuff like that.

“Hey, Caroline.” It was a girl from my science class, Joanne Parkhill.

“Hey, Joanne.”

The photographer was setting up his backdrop again, adjusting his tripod. There was no box of combs today that I could see.

“I missed picture day,” Joanne told me.

“I figured,” I said. Then, in case that sounded too sarcastic, I added, “Me, too.”

“But you don't get to be in your class photo. They're not going to get your whole class in here again and just take a whole other class photo just because you missed photo day. Right? I mean that would be dumb, right?”

“Right.”

“Why did you miss picture day? I was out sick. I had this thing called Coxsackie virus…but it's not as bad as it sounds. It's like chicken pox, but you only get it on your hands and feet. Isn't that strange?”

Joanne does this in science class, too. That's why the teacher never calls on her even though she has her hand up every time. She always has the right answer; it's just that she can't stop talking.

But she's really good in science and she's not a bad kid. I kinda like her.

 

There were no bleachers set up this time. No lines outside the library. It all felt pretty civilized, actually. The photographer looked much more relaxed. I reached up and touched my necklace. I moved the star back and forth along the chain carefully, but I knew it was safe. It wouldn't break again.

Not only because I was going to be more careful, but also because my mom bought me a thicker chain, real gold, with a stronger clasp. It was an early birthday present.

“Joanne Parkhill. Is Joanne Parkhill here?”

“Okeydokey. Here goes,” Joanne said to me. “See ya later, Caroline.”

I waved to her and then, when I turned around, I saw Ryan.

“You missed picture day too?” Ryan said to me.

“Well, not really.”

I kind of wanted to tell him. I mean, he picked me to be on his volleyball team the other day. He's really nice, actually.

“What do you mean?” he asked me.

“Well, I was here, but I didn't get my picture taken.”

“Oh, my mom's making me do a retake 'cause my eyes were closed,” Ryan said.

Most everyone here was on the other side of the room by the photographer, waiting their turn. Ryan and I were standing by the computers. He was leaning against one of the tables.

I wasn't sure what to do, where to look. If they called my name I'd just wave and say see ya later. If they called him first, I'd still wave, and I'd still say see ya later.

“I like your necklace,” Ryan said to me.

I reached my hand up. “Oh, thanks. It was my grandmother's. She wanted me to have it.”

“So you're Jewish?”

Yes, I am.

And in another month I will be thirteen years old,
I thought to myself. I will be a bat mitzvah whether we mark the occasion or not. Which I might do, but I might not. But I wanted to wear this necklace for my school photo.

It's like a mini bat mitzvah celebration. A statement I am making to the world. The start of a commitment. A gift I am just about ready to open.

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm Jewish.”

To this Ryan lifted his chin a little, in a nodding gesture. His body hadn't moved at all. He was still leaning against the computer table. His legs stretched out, his feet crossed.

“I didn't know that,” he told me. “I didn't know you were Jewish.”

I was about to brace myself, but something told me this time was different. I relaxed. I didn't say anything.

“So am I,” Ryan said.

And I just smiled.

Like Links on a Chain

There is a five-piece orchestra and a female vocalist in a sequined gown. People are already dancing when we walk into the room. There are lavender tablecloths and baskets of African violets blooming in tiny purple blossoms on every table.

I am full from eating all the food that has been walking around during the cocktail hour—teriyaki chicken on skewers, cocktail hot dogs, and guess what?
Knishes!
Little doughy things stuffed with potato goo.

And Ryan Berk is here. Because when Rachel invited Lauren, we got to invite one more boy, so Rachel invited him. She did that for me. Ryan really is a good dancer, especially when we don't have to do a hoedown. I think he's waiting for a slow dance so he can ask me again. He hasn't asked Lauren once.

But Rachel—Rachel is amazing.

I think I understand it better now.

At the service, there were people from all over, people from all
parts of Rachel's life and her family's lives. There were family and friends, the rabbi and just people from their congregation, neighbors and kids from school. And there was Rachel telling us all that she is Jewish and wants to stay that way. She stood in front of everyone in that synagogue, those known to her and those who were strangers, and she wore her Judaism right there on her sleeve.

Her voice was shaking at first. But it got stronger the more she sang and chanted. When she caught my eye, I smiled at her. I think it helped.

But not everything here at the party is going as planned. Rachel's mom looks pretty nervous. I know there is some major confusion with the food or the wine, something that isn't right, or isn't there, or there isn't enough of. But no one else would have noticed.

Rachel, in her white socked feet (all the girls got socks to put on over their stockings for when they can't stand their high heels one minute longer) comes running across the lobby floor just as I am coming out of the bathroom.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing. My mom wanted me to tell the caterer guy something. All done. I was just getting back to the party.”

“Rachel,” I say to her. “You look so beautiful. You did a great job, a wonderful job, at your service. You made me cry.”

Even though she had stopped running before, now Rachel pauses. She puts her hands on my shoulders. “That means so much to me, Caroline. I was so scared. You're the only one who knows that.”

“But you did it,” I say.

She smiles so big her cheeks are touching her eyes. “I'm glad it's over.”

“And even with Lauren here, your party is fantastic,” I say. “Everyone is having so much fun.”

“Are you?” she asks.

“Me?”

“Well, I mean…you don't feel bad, do you? Because you wanted one?”

“I am one, Rachel. I mean, I will be on my birthday next month.”

It is just the two of us; the doors to the social hall are closed. We can hear the music swelling, the clarinets and trumpets. The voice of the singer. We can hear all the happy voices mixing together, creating a kind of music of their own. It is cacophonous and wonderful.

But we stand alone together in the center of this huge lobby. Two small dots, two girls. Two best friends, separated at birth.

“What do you mean?” Rachel asks.

“Because I
am
Jewish. Because my mother is Jewish, I became a bat mitzvah when I turned twelve. Automatically. I don't have to do anything. Just be me. My aunt Gert told me that.”

Just then the doors fly open and Sandi Miller pokes her head out.

“Rachel! Caroline! Come quick. The hora. It's time for the hora!” Her face is flushed and her makeup is running, and her hair is already coming out of her upsweep, but I have never seen her look prettier, happier. More excited.

“Coming, Mom,” Rachel says. She turns back to me. “You're kidding. Is that true? I did all this work and studying and I didn't have to?”

I smile and shake my head. “Nope.”

But I know it was all worth it and so does she. It is the happiest day of her life. Her life so far.

“You
are
a bat mitzvah, Rachel. Just because you're Jewish,” I say.

“
Now
you tell me!” Rachel shouts.

We link arms and together we run back inside, to eat and dance, and to celebrate who we are.