We both love to read, we love coffee and chocolate and rain, and we both don’t like Leahle Greenberg

Perel:

I wouldn’t say Ricky and I are a judgmental duo, but we definitely have our opinions about some of our classmates, particularly Leahle and her group of copycats.

We’re totally careful with machsom lifi and shemiras halashon, of course. But it’s hard to keep a straight face when Leahle comes in, dramatically exclaiming over how tired she is, because her parents took her to see a private Shwekey concert last night, or flew her to a Miami restaurant for her birthday.

Honestly, I have my doubts whether every exciting story Leahle Greenberg shares is even true. Like Mommy says, take everything with a grain of salt.

And with Leahle Greenberg, it’s obviously pink Himalayan salt.

The truth is, that aside from major T4, I kind of like Leahle. She’s funny and sharp and has the cutest shoes in the world.

But I can never tell Ricky that, because of The Incident.

Now, mind you, The Incident occurred in sixth grade and we are now in tenth, but I can tell that Ricky is still not over it, and, as the best friend, I need to be supportive.

Ricky is already at the window seat when I sleepwalk into homeroom five minutes early.

I blink, pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my fingers, and curl up next to her, watching girls arrive at school from the window until the bell rings, signaling tefillah time.

“I’m so tired,” I mutter.

Ricky gives me a sympathetic hug. “Poor Shevs. Don’t worry, midwinter is almost here and then we have four straight days of rest and relaxation.”

I wrinkle my nose. “And reading!”