How to Ruin Series Part 39

Looking at me sideways, my mom smiles. Oops, I should never have said that. Because ... you guessed it, she takes me to Sally's Intimate Boutique on the other side of town to get me fitted for bras.

Mom drives me back to the condo in the city after the bra run. I kiss her goodbye, get out of the car, and attempt to hide the girly pink bag under my arm. It's gotten so cold I pull my coat tight around me, but catch sight of Nathan standing on the curb with a bouquet of yellow tulips in his hand.

I'm still watching Nathan as my mom drives off. When the public bus heading to Evanston stops at the corner, Nathan gets on without a backward glance.

Hmm.

I wonder if he's going to see Binky ... I mean Bicky. Not that I believe he's actually dating that girl in the picture in his room.

I still haven't figured him out. Why is he staying at his aunt and uncle's house? If it's not temporary, why is he still living out of his suitcase? If it's not temporary, why is he going to my school? The whole thing doesn't add up.

Shaking thoughts of Nathan from my head, I run up to my condo before my dad gets home. Hurriedly, I check my dad's still-open PJSN account. The only problem is he'll kill me if I set him up on another date. I have to come up with another scheme, something creative.

I've heard about speed dating, where a person goes on a bunch of three-minute dates in one night. Hmm ... maybe I can convince Marla to host one of them at Perk Me Up! one night. I must admit I have the best ideas.

My dad walks in the door just as I'm closing out the PJSN account. He asks me about my weekend without him. I ask him about his trip. We eat dinner together while playing shesh besh, which is Hebrew for backgammon. It's something we both like to play. We even have a little rivalry going on.

I answer the phone when it rings after dinner, knowing before I even check the caller ID that it's Jessica. "I need best friend advice," Jess says.

"Me, too. I need to know what I should wear tonight." I mean, I haven't been to a youth group meeting in ... well, never.

"I thought you were going to wear your Fuego jeans and that heather-gray top you got last week at Saks."

I lay down on my bed in frustration, petting Mutt who just jumped on my stomach and almost knocked the wind out of me. "I was, but decided against it. I was thinking about wearing my long print skirt and a plain white s.h.i.+rt."

There's a big huff on the other end of the line. "Amy, you don't have to dress religious for the group."

"Come over and help me pick something to wear tonight. Please? I'll do your makeup for you and listen to your Mitch problems at the same time."

Jessica loves when I do her makeup.

She will absolutely come over. I know her weakness is the two Ms-Mitch and makeup. For the double Ms, she'll go through the torture of finding a parking spot on the overcrowded Chicago streets.

"Um ... I'm picking up Miranda Cohen first," Jess says.

"Miranda Cohen?" I ask. "The girl who hyperventilated when we ran the mile in gym last year?" Poor Miranda. The Diet c.o.ke she drinks just doesn't erase the other c.r.a.p from her system.

"Miranda's in the youth group."

So? I'm not best friends with Miranda, but I'd rather hang with her than Roxanne.

"Jess, I need your help. Bring Miranda."

"I don't want to talk about Mitch in front of her, Amy."

"Okay, so here's my advice on the boyfriend front. Give Mitch some s.p.a.ce and let him come after you. Ignore him for a bit. He thrives on challenges, Jess, and maybe you're too accessible."

"But-"

"But nothing. Listen to me. I know what I'm talking about. I dated him, too.

Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"So, are you coming over now or what?"

"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 fas.h.i.+on 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 fas.h.i.+on show? I'll give you money if you'll make Amy clean her room."

"Dad, don't be a dork," I tell him, pus.h.i.+ng him out of the room before he embarra.s.ses 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 s.h.i.+mmying 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 a.s.sistant 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 a.s.signs 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 i," 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.

"That's cool."

Nikki isn't uber-friendly after I told her I go to Chicago Academy, like she's suddenly wary of me.

Luckily, a cool guy wearing a black hooded sweats.h.i.+rt sits on the other side of me and starts talking. "What's up? I'm Wes."

"I'm Amy."

"I've never seen you here before," Wes says while checking me out. He's so obvious about it, a guy like that deserves to be played with.

"I'm a youth group virgin," I say.

Instead of being shocked, the guy laughs.

"Cool. You might not want to hang with me. I'm so not a virgin I might scare you off."

"I go to Chicago Academy," I tell him.

"I might scare you off."

Instead of being intimidated, Wes leans forward. "Ooh, one of those rich kids. Is it true your parents host teenage parties with booze and pot?"

"Absolutely," I lie. "What else would we do with all that excess money?"

He laughs and gives me a big, c.o.c.ky smile. "I like you, Amy."

Rabbi Doug gives us our a.s.signment.

"You guys are in charge of hanging the fruit in the sukkah. The baskets, hooks, and string are in the back room. Be creative, people."

I follow the rest of the kids to the back room. Wes and I are instant friends, I find out he goes to Mather High, too, and sings in a band called Lickity Split. Nikki is starting to warm up to me, or maybe she likes Wes so she's acting all nicey-nice.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Wes asks me while we're attempting to string bananas together.

I look over to Jessica's group, working with nails and wood to put up the sukkah structure. "Sort of."

"What do you mean by 'sort of'?" Nikki chimes in.

Is it really any of these people's business? "I have a boyfriend, but he's in Israel."