“Akiva Frankel. He has been your best friend since you were 14. If he’s now doing well, you’re supposed to be happy for him”

D

eena thumped the mail down on the island and plopped onto a stool.

“I’m actually starving, is there anything to eat in this house?”

Libby bit the inside of her cheek. You were a teenager once, too, Libs, and you were no ray of sunshine. Be cool, be cool.

“Didn’t you have a salad for lunch, and then a muffin and latte from the Muffin Show after school?”

She’d received a debit card notice, not that she minded.

Deena looked at her, eyes hooded. “Yeah, so?”

Be cool, be cool. “There are grapes in the fridge and biscotti on the tray.”

“Thanks.”

Libby grabbed the mail in an effort to keep herself from criticizing. Was she a super critical person, or was Deena super annoying these days?

Flyer, flyer, bill, bill, bill. Those thin envelopes had the ability to cause her blood pressure to skyrocket these days.

Invitation… what was — ah, the Abrams bar mitzvah. Well, this should be fun.

She tagged it on the magnetic board near the breakfast nook and set off to inform Akiva they now had plans for November 15.