Mimi grabs a basket. The brown bag, a set of notebooks, matching binders. Neat and sleek and most importantly, totally, utterly, blessedly normal

Twenty. Forty. Sixty. Eighty.

Mimi thumbs through the bills in her pocketbook. How much does she have on her? One hundred, two hundred. Four hundred. Enough for…

Ahead of her, Tzippy and Ella browse the display of knapsacks with twin grimaces. “They’re okay, but nothing special,” Ella says decisively. “Like, for ninth grade it could work. Maaaaybe tenth. Not for us.”

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” Tzippy says.

They turn to leave. Mimi hesitates when she spots a brown suede bag with small gold zippers. Smart. Plain. Almost… sensible.

It could work.

“Go ahead without me,” she blurts.

Tzippy looks surprised. “We can wait for you, no problem,” she offers.

Mimi feels the heat rise in her face. Desperation makes her mouth a short, hard line. With effort, she forces it into an arc and says with strained nonchalance, “No, no, I’ll be a few minutes. Go ahead, I’ll meet you — where? Next door?”

Tzippy and Ella look at each other, then nod.

“Great.” They’re looking for chic. Hunters, Herschel, Lululemon. She can’t afford two designer bags. And besides… why splurge on a designer for someone who couldn’t care less?

Imitations are made for a reason.

Mimi grabs a basket. The brown bag, a set of notebooks, matching binders. Neat and sleek and most importantly, totally, utterly, blessedly normal.

The saleslady rings up the bill. “You’re the fastest one I’ve seen all day.”

Mimi tries to smile.