I peek at the price tag. “Seventy-five,” I say weakly. Mommy purses her lips, but nods and I run to the dressing room

"I hate it.”

Mommy sighs and blows a sheitel hair out of her face. “Okay. So, what do you like?”

An image of the dress Atara just bought for her brother’s bar mitzvah pops into my mind.

“I don’t know! Dresses. Things. Stuff. Just not that,” I say, wrinkling my nose at the skirt in Mommy’s hand.

“Oh. Well, thank you for being so specific.”

She marches off to return the skirt to the rack, muttering “things and stuff” under her breath.

I know it’s not really fair to Mommy that I have all these expectations for pricier things in my head from my friendship with Atara, but Atara is so sweet and such a good friend, that it’s worth the price.

Ha-ha, a little money pun.

Okay, I’m going to try to tone down the snobbery.

“Thanks for trying, though,” I say to Mommy apologetically when she returns.

She smiles wanly, and I feel really bad. I know she’s exhausted from spending all week taking care of Babby, but I must get at least two Shabbos outfits, my winter wardrobe is sorely lacking, and there’s the upsheren and my first high school shabbaton, and Shabbos Chanukah, when the whole family gets together….

“Can we try Ruby’s and then call it a day?” I ask Mommy. Ruby’s is a high-end store, yes, but they have an amazing sale rack.

She nods weakly and we head out of Stitches without a backward glance.

I make a beeline for the sale rack the second we enter; and pull out a winter-white jumper with flat black velvet buttons. “That’s gorgeous,” Mommy says from over my shoulder. “How much?”

I peek at the price tag. “Seventy-five,” I say weakly. Mommy purses her lips, but nods and I run to the dressing room.

It’s beautiful; personally, I think exposed black stitching would add a lot, but hey, what do I know?

We triumphantly enter Sushi Street a half hour later to meet Goldie. I’ve also snagged a gorgeous gray skirt for half price and a tailored black turtleneck, and I am feeling exhilarated.

We wave at Goldie and I plop onto a chair next to her. “Ohmygosh, I’m regular starving,” I say.

Mommy looks concerned. “Order something filling, Bella. You looked much too thin in all those new clothes.”

I roll my eyes. “Maaaa. I eat. It’s just that ballet burns so many calories.”

Goldie gives a half smile. “Sign me up. I’m so tired of dieting.”

We gape at her. “You so don’t need to be on a diet,” I say emphatically while Mommy nods firmly.

She waves a hand. “Let’s order, ’kay?”

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 786)