“Two days?” I say. “You lasted two days? Listen, if it was a good secret, I’d get it. But I told you I was kidding"

I have nothing to wear to a bris. Like, nothing.

I call Debbi. “What are your thoughts,” I say, absentmindedly braiding my hair, “about me wearing a garbage bag to my nephew’s bris?”

Debbi laughs. “Oh, I say go for it. Make a statement. Mrs. Katz will love you for it. What a way to lessen the tremendous pull of gashmiyus.”

We groan. The school has been on a rampage in the past few days to get us all to be less clothing obsessed.

It’s true, though; the ninth graders are a bit out of control.

“Were we like that?” I ask Debbi, rifling through my closet one more time. I pull out a mauve ribbed dress with a matching cardigan. Maybe? Can you wear pink to a bris?

“Totally not, no one was like that. Those girls have more brands than an outlet mall. And they’re like hectic about them.”

I laugh. “Nice one. Omigosh, it’s totally going to be the Expo theme, no? Something about pashtus. Through the centuries, maybe.”

I hold the pink set up to myself, look in the mirror. Not bad. It brings color to my cheeks and contrasts nicely with my hair.

“Debs?”

“Uh-huh….”

A sinking feeling fills my gut. Oh, no… “Debbi, I was kidding about Expo. you know that, right? This was not like an information leak or anything.”

“Uh-huh….”

“Debbi!”

“I gotta go, Nomes, ’kay? Hatzlachah with your outfit search.”

And she’s off before I can tell her about the mauve set.