I’m standing in the biggest foyer I’ve ever seen; I’m pretty sure it’s the size of our entire first floor back in the Outcrop. I glance around and then blush, realizing the woman who opened the door is still staring at me. From her maroon hair and sweats, I am positive this is not the famous Mrs. Fine, but the live-in cleaning help Tamara’s always talking about.

“Hi,” I say breathlessly. “I’m here for Tamara?”

The woman looks me up and down, and is that disbelief I see?

Ouch.

“Tamara ees downstairs,” she says, motioning to a door across the hall. Thanking her, I head toward it, catching a glimpse of a magnificent living room as I do.

I head down a long, thickly carpeted stairwell, noticing the maple-paneled walls and perfectly framed photos of Tamara and four other blonde girls.

I only realize the door is soundproof once I’m at the bottom of the staircase and the noise hits me like a wave. The music is blasting, mixing with the chatter and shrieks of teenage girls. I smile to myself and descend the last step. This is going to be fun.

I blink as I turn into the room and I think my mouth opens. It’s a kid’s dream come true.

Six large tepees are set up, fairy lights strung between the pastel-colored tents. A thick gray carpet is covered in throw pillows and poufs of all shapes and sizes. Enough food and drink to feed the entire Bais Yaakov of Stonesworth is laid out in an artful buffet running around the room.

And, of course, the girls are all there.

Bina is braiding Rikki’s hair, laughing hysterically.

The third member of their troupe, Tiffy Gruber, is lying on her back, listening intently to something Tamara is telling her.

I clear my throat; no one looks up.

“Hi,” I say tentatively, self-consciously running a hand over my mane. The chattering stops instantly.

“RaRa,” Tamara says lazily, shining a smile in my direction.

“Pick a tent, and then get out here. The yellow and blue are still not taken.”

I blink, because, well, okay. I amble over to the yellow tent and peer inside. My jaw drops. It’s like a tiny little bedroom, complete with light fixtures and a small sink with a toothbrush holder and a negel vasser cup. The linen, throw pillows, and rug were all the same shade of buttery yellow. I swallow hard, and it occurs to me for the first time, that I just might be out of my league here. But then I catch sight of myself in the mirror over the sink, and I look good, surrounded by the glitz and glamour of a Tamara Fine sleepover party. I straighten my shoulders and give my reflection a small smile, then duck back out of the tent. Rikki and Bina have joined the intense conversation around Tamara. I stand there shyly till Tamara looks up. “All settled?” she asks, and I nod.

“Good. We’re just discussing the Greenfields across the street. My neighbors forever, and they just got divorced. Can you imagine?” She shudders delicately.

“My best friend’s parents just separated,” a voice says, and it takes me a full ten seconds to realize it’s my own. (Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 730)