Catie is bold and unafraid, and everyone listens to her, even if they don’t like what she has to say. Me included, I guess. Mom agrees to let us go alone but insists on dropping off Lionel, too, who is armed with a paperback copy of Sula. I don’t protest because I always like having him around; he’s sort of a lousy chaperone, though, being only a year older than Catie and me.
“Call me if you need anything,” Mom says before we get out of the car, but she’d really rather we didn’t. She works part-time as a copywriter, and this is one of her writing days, where she gets to stay home and work on her screenplay. I know it’s a big deal for her to take time out of her schedule to drive me to the mall, but I still wish she could stay. I’m nervous about my bat mitzvah, worried I’m going to do everything wrong in front of everyone, including wearing the wrong dress.
“I’ve been to a million of these,” Catie says in greeting. The worry must be plastered all over my face. “I could pick out a bat mitzvah dress in my sleep.”
That only makes me sweat more—is there a specific type of dress I should wear, and would everyone notice if I didn’t? I’ve been to my fair share of ceremonies, but it feels different now that it’s my turn. And I know people will be watching me closer than the other girls in my Hebrew classes; I don’t look like any of them.
For all her boasting, Catie is a reckless shopper. Not at all methodical and not at all interested in looking for my dress, at least not right away. My mother would have a set list of stores to go to and she’d look on the other side of the store from me to make sure we didn’t miss anything and she’d stand outside the dressing room, available to give her honest opinion and grab different sizes. We’d find a dress by the time we got to the third store, and by the time we were sitting down to lunch, my anxiety would have faded.
Catie takes me into stores that don’t sell anything in our size just to make fun of the clothing and rolls her eyes at me when I tell her she’s being mean. We burn a quick path through a candy shop, Catie dipping her fingers into the bins when no one is looking so she can pop stolen candy into her mouth. I don’t know why no one is looking. She wears all black and too much makeup and she’s not a fan of inside voices.
“I really need to find a dress today,” I say after an hour. We’re in an electronics store now, where Catie is playing around with the display model of a computer, typing nonsensical emails to no one.
She sighs as if I’ve ruined her entire day but steps back from the computer and nods toward the door. “Come on. I know the perfect place.”
And she does. It’s a store I never would have thought about going into. From the outside, it looks like they only have two or three options, total, and everything is in muted colors—black and taupe and ivory, sometimes gray. But once I get inside, I see that all the clothes look better up close, with impeccable lace detailing and delicate beading and fabric so sumptuous I wish I could use it for my bedsheets. It’s expensive, but when she handed over her credit card earlier today, Mom said, “I don’t want you maxing out my account, but buy something nice, okay? It’s a special day for you, sweet pea.”
The sales associates know Catie, and they help us choose dresses for me to try on, fawning over us both like we’re celebrities. It’s kind of fun, after a while, emerging from the dressing room to all of their expectant eyes and having them fuss and fight over what looks best on me.
The dress we all agree on is the prettiest thing I’ve ever owned, by far. Fine gold thread is woven throughout the champagne-colored bodice, which has a sweetheart neckline and slender gold straps. The skirt is a soft, cream-colored tulle that stops above my knees and floats around me like air.
I’m smiling when I give them the credit card, pleasantly surprised that Catie came through for me. Maybe she isn’t so bad.
“Mazel tov!” the blond girl calls out from behind the cash register as we leave. I wave at her in thanks, then duck my head when a woman appraising a pair of white pants gives me a strange look.
I’m suddenly ravenous and ask Catie if she wants to grab something to eat with Lionel and me before she leaves.
“Sure. But I have to give you something first.” Before I can say anything, she pulls from her purse a long necklace with the most delicate gold chain and a violet-colored teardrop pendant hanging from the center. “Really pretty, right?”
It’s beautiful. But why isn’t it in a box? It takes me only a second to remember Catie looking at the jewelry while I paid for my dress. And that Catie never paid for anything in the store.
“For you,” she says, holding it out between us. “It’ll look amazing with your dress.”
She pushes the necklace toward me, the pendant swinging in the air, but I put my hands up and step back. My throat hurts as I say, “I don’t want it.”
“Oh, God. Are you really such a goody-goody? It’s just a necklace.” She shrugs, irritated. “It’s not my fault those girls are so bad at their job. I practically took it from right under their noses.”
“Catie, you can’t…” I’ve never stolen anything in my life. “You have to take it back. They were so nice to us.”
“They were nice to us because my mom spends a ton of money there. It’s not like they own the place.”
Nothing Catie can say will make me feel better about her having stolen that necklace, and nothing I say will make her return it. She’s probably more pleased with herself the bigger a deal I make of it, so I stop talking about it. I refuse it one last time and say we should go meet Lionel, and I look away quickly from her downturned mouth.
Mom loves the dress, and when she’s looking in the bag for the receipt, she says, “What’s this?”
“What’s what?” I turn around just in time to see her pulling out something small that sparkles when it hits the light.
The necklace.
“Oh, this is beautiful, sweet pea.” She slowly untwists the chain and holds it up in front of her. “You bought it to go with the dress?”
My stomach jumps up and down. I don’t know what to say. “I, um…”
“I know I told you to only get the dress, but—well, it’s so pretty. And I want to see it on you.” She walks behind me and drapes it over my neck. I wonder if she can feel my heart pulsing too fast in my chest, or the heat of anxiety clinging to my skin. The pendant is cool and smooth against my sternum, and Mom gasps when she sees it with the dress, says the two were meant to be. “You have to wear it to the bat mitzvah.”
I’m glad when she heads back to her office. My throat is too dry to speak, and even after I’ve taken off the necklace, I can feel it burning a line across my skin.
Lionel is doing homework when I tell him we need a tree house meeting, but he puts down his pencil and follows me out to the backyard without another word.
I kick off my flip-flops and climb up ahead of him. The floor is scattered with the remnants of the Monopoly game we abandoned without crowning a winner the last time we were here.
I barely wait for him to get inside before I pull the necklace from my pocket and thrust it in his face. He frowns for a minute, looking back and forth from the jewelry to me, then shrugs. “It’s nice?”
“Lion, it’s stolen.”
His mouth drops open. “You…?”