THIRTY-SIX

MY BREAK WITH KAYLAN GOES on for a few more days.

We don’t talk or text or FaceTime or anything. We see each other at school and I still sit at the lunch table, but we just sort of exist near each other.

I think about what Cantor Simon said, and I do want to talk to Kaylan about it. But everything just feels too fragile to bring it all to the surface again. It’s easier to bury it for a little while. Not forever. Just for a little.

And the only time I really see Kaylan, other than lunch, is during math. She changed her seat and seems way more focused now. I’m not sure if that has anything to do with me or not. But there’s not really a time for us to talk about it.

“Good morning. I’d like to highlight everyone who got a one hundred percent on the pop quiz the other day,” Mr. Gavinder says, starting class. “These peers are an example for everyone. Good work Rafa, Owen, Kenny, Daniel, and Seth.”

Owen stands up and starts clapping in an over-the-top jokey way, and Mr. Gavinder tells him to sit down. “Now, please now turn to page seventy-three in the textbook and take out a pencil and some lined paper,” he tells us.

Isabela turns to me and shows me her paper. “I got a hundred, too.”

“That’s so weird,” I whisper.

She shakes her head. “I don’t get it.”

“Isabela, you need to tell him,” I insist.

She shrugs. “Whatever, it’s fine. I’m sure he just forgot.”

“You need to tell him,” I repeat. “It’s not right. Also, he never calls on you. You raise your hand for every question!”

She shrugs again and then focuses her attention on the board.

I look over at Kaylan, sitting in the front row now with her glasses on, copying down every number that’s written on the board.

After class, Kaylan and I walk out at the same time, but it’s not exactly like we’re walking together. We’re just sort of going down the hallway at the same pace.

We pass Isabela, sitting on the wooden bench in the main lobby.

“Are you okay?” I ask her.

“Stomachache. Going home early.”

I scrunch up my face. “Feel better.”

Once we’re far enough away that Isabela can’t hear us, I catch up to Kaylan and say, “Okay, I know we’re not really talking, but I just had an epiphany. For our list. And it involves Isabela.”

Kaylan looks at me, confused.

We duck into an empty classroom, and I whisper, “For help someone else shine. She is already shining, and Mr. Gavinder isn’t noticing! We need to make sure he notices.”

“Um, how can we do that, though?” Kaylan looks up at the clock. “I got a sixty-seven on that quiz, by the way.”

I ignore the fact that Kaylan seems to be changing the topic. “Isabela is never gonna stand up for herself,” I explain. “We need to do it.”

“Ari, I’m on board,” Kaylan says, looking right at me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I just don’t know how to do it.”

“Well, let’s be thinking,” I say. “We have until my bat mitzvah to fix this, and to help Isabela shine.”

Kaylan nods. “Yes.”

She starts walking ahead of me, but then I touch her shoulder and ask, “Can we talk later? For real?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “I didn’t think our break would last forever. Duh. That’s why it’s called a break.”

I laugh for a second. Kaylan can always make tense situations feel funny, at least for a moment or two.

“Come over after school, okay?” I shake my head up and down, hoping she’ll agree.

“Okay.”

Kaylan and I take the bus together and then walk over to my house. It’s a funny feeling to know you’re about to have a big conversation, so you just kind of stay quiet until it happens. It feels like the few moments that pass between walking into the examining room at the doctor’s office and then waiting for the doctor to come in with your shots. You know it’s coming. All you can do is wait.

When we get home, I find another one of my mom’s famous kitchen table notes.

Hi, Ari,

Gemma is going over to Sally’s after school. Dad and I have an appointment. We’ll all be home for dinner. Please do your homework, practice for your bat mitzvah, etc.

Empty the dishwasher if you have time.

Thank you.

Love, Mom

“Does she realize that you have a phone and she can just text you?” Kaylan asks me, scanning the pantry for a snack. “What happened here?” She points to the broken door.

“Oh, it fell off the hinge a few weeks ago. Be careful of the crisper drawer in the fridge. That’s broken, too.”

“Noted.”

We grab a few mini bags of pretzels and little bottles of iced tea and head up the stairs to my room.

“I see you’ve redecorated since I’ve been here last,” Kaylan remarks, noticing my camp pictures all over the walls.

“You’re represented, too.” I show her the bulletin, aka the shrine of Kaylan and Ari through the years.

“Good.” She kicks off her sneakers and goes to sit on my bed. “So what’s up?”

I laugh for a second. “Um, well, I wanted to talk to you, because—” The phone rings. “Oops, hold that thought.”

“Hi, Bub,” I say, answering the phone.

“Hi, doll. How are you? Just wanted to check in.”

“I’m good. Kaylan’s over now, can I call you back?”

“Of course. Talk later.”

I go back to the bed and start the Kaylan conversation again. “So, um, as I was saying. The thing is, I still really want to keep our friendship strong. Do you?”

“Obviously. But what does that even mean, really?” she asks. “We never really said when we made the new list, so . . . Like, did that mean not having new friends?”

In a way, it kind of feels like she’s attacking me, but I don’t want this conversation to be like that. I want it to be calm, and relaxed, and thoughtful. “No, of course not. And it didn’t mean skipping fun and new experiences just because the other one wasn’t a part of it, right?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“So . . .”

Kaylan leans back against my pillows. “So . . .”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel that I only cared about camp,” I tell her. “So not true. I care about you a zillion percent.”

“And what about the lunch table girls?”

“I care about them, and I want to be friends with them. But can I be honest?”

She nods.

“They’re kind of mean sometimes. They made me feel bad about my bat mitzvah party changing, and I don’t know—sometimes they’re a little intense. They all just follow Cami, and I wasn’t sure they even really wanted me around.”

“They can be intense, sometimes, yeah,” Kaylan says, scratching her eyebrow. “But not all the time. And I think they do want you around. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t included in stuff, also sorry I posted those Instagram stories.”

“I think the bottom line is that we need to stay strong while also realizing that our friendship won’t totally stay the same,” I tell her. “Ya know? And you hate change, obviously. But you’re also much better with it now.”

“I am?” Kaylan shrieks.

“I think so.” I lie back next to her. “And you barely freak out anymore. You can totally JHH that bad habit.”

She hops up off the bed and JHHs by herself, but then runs over to high-five me.

“I think you were right about my bad habit,” I tell her. “I started telling the cantor how I really feel about stuff, and it was a relief, in a way. I really have been keeping things bottled up.”

“And you can lean on me, too, ya know . . . and the lunch table girls.” Kaylan sits up and rests her head on her palm. “I mean, we’re here for you. It’s way harder to get through all this stuff on your own.”

“I know. I’m gonna try. It’s just that you get used to being one way for so long, it’s hard to change. . . .”

“Hello! You’re telling me this? Duh. I know!” She rolls her eyes. “You can do it.”

I stand up and scroll through my phone for a good summer song. I turn it on and then jump off the bed, grabbing a handful of pens from my desk for the microphone.

I start snapping with my other hand. “Havana ooh na na!”

Kaylan says “hey” at just the right time and hops off the bed to join me.

“Ooh ooh ooh,” she sings into her fist.

I burst out laughing and then we sing through the chorus together.

At the end of the song, we fall back onto the bed. “No one dance parties like we dance party,” I tell Kaylan.

“No. Definitely not. We are dance party champions. Forever.”

I add, “And ever.”