ZeeZee had a feeling she’d met this lady before, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember where

ZeeZee blinked her eyes open, squinted, and then blinked again. It took her several long moments to remember where she was, and why there was so much hot pink filling her line of vision.

“Wake up, rebel girl. We have a bus to catch.”

At the sound of the familiar voice, ZeeZee opened her eyes wide as recollection returned.

Yesterday’s fit of recklessness. Ditching school to wander around Yerushalayim. Spending a defiant afternoon at Yad b’Yad. Going home with Ilana and crashing there for the night, to Ilana’s intense amusement.

“And here I used to suspect you of being a goodie-goodie in disguise,” she’d drawled, after she’d listened to ZeeZee explaining earnestly on the phone to Mrs. Hurwitz that her cousin had a major family emergency and needed ZeeZee’s help overnight. “Is your eim bayit really so thick that she bought that story?” she’d added.

ZeeZee had shrugged. “I’m not sure. But she’s cool that way.” Then she’d thought of the intense betrayal she’d felt when seeing Tammy working at Yad b’Yad right after she herself had been banned for practically her entire life, and her face had darkened. “Sometimes, at least.”

Now, she sat up, and immediately covered her eyes. “Why in the world did you paint your walls hot pink? Did you, like, want to blind yourself?”

“Or other people. Stops my family from coming in.” Ilana smirked. “Will you get up already? I have to be at work at ten. You still want to come with me, yeah?”

“You bet!” Now ZeeZee jumped up. “But I have no other clothes,” she remembered. “I’ll have to wear what I wore yesterday.”

“You can borrow from me,” Ilana said, nodding her head to her closet. She had a curious expression on her face — as if she were somehow testing ZeeZee.

ZeeZee closed her eyes. It was too early in the morning to think properly. But, no, she wasn’t going to wear Ilana’s clothes.

“You mean your Bais Yaakov uniform?” she said lightly. “No offense, but I’d rather wear my gross sweater from yesterday.”

Ilana’s lips curled. “Not such a rebel girl after all, huh?” She stood up and stretched. “Don’t have a heart attack or anything, but I also know how to dress like a good little girl.”

ZeeZee hadn’t looked properly at Ilana’s outfit, but now she laughed. Ilana was wearing a sweater and long slinky skirt. Not quite Bais Yaakov attire, but a lot more covered up than she usually was.

“Going frummie in your old age?” she asked.

“You trying to say I was ever not frummie?” Her eyes widened innocently and then she smirked. “Joking, this is called business attire. Ever hear of such a thing? Or maybe rich Brooklyn girls don’t need to work?”

ZeeZee slung her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. I babysit, remember?”

“Right, sorry.” For a moment, Ilana actually looked contrite. “Anyway, Devoiry — that’s the lady who owns the store — she insists on tzniyus clothing.”

“And you’re cool with that?”

“Yeah, ’cuz she’s so cool. You’ll see when you meet her.”

ZeeZee bent down and grabbed the clothing she’d thrown into a crumpled pile last night. “You sure she’s chilled with me coming along to work with you today?”

Ilana laughed. “OMG, yeah. She’s so overworked, she’ll take any help she can get. Especially free help.”