I was never fond of those girls who are all like, “My family is nuts and mortifying and I have braces and ohmigosh, my life is so hard”

F

loating in that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, I can feel him standing there, even though my eyes are still closed.

“Hi, Levi,” I murmur.

I crack open one lid to find myself peering into navy eyes surrounded by the sort of lashes that make me want to buy stock in the fake eyelash industry. They must be a foot long.

“Leviii,” I say in a singsong. “Don’t watch people sleep, it’s regular creepy. How you doing, sweetie?”

I struggle into a sitting position, pull on the strings of my hoodie so the hood flops onto my head, hiding my messy bun, and force a smile in the direction of my nephew. His new Lego yarmulke is perched proudly on his head and he genuinely looks like an angel.

He gazes at me solemnly, opens his mouth, and then screams as loudly as he can. I’m so startled I actually fall out of bed, my foot getting tangled in the sheets, and I go crashing to the floor in a way I’m sure would have Debbi doubled over in hysterics, but just sends Yocheved bursting into my room, tichel askew.

“Levi! Levi, stop. STOP! Naomi, are you okay? LEVI!!!”

But he screams on and on, his face turning more and more purple.

And then, when I’m pretty sure he’s going to combust all over my bedroom floor and my pile of brand-new camp purchases, he stops.

The silence is so sudden, I can feel it, a real tangible entity.

“You didn’t buy me tape gum,” he says, pouting, and then he flops onto the floor next to me, cross-legged, chin in hand.

I look at him from slitted eyes, I look at Yocheved, panting and angry, and with a moan, I drag myself off the floor and go lock myself in the bathroom.

Peering at myself in the mirror, I grimace. My blue-eyed, pale-skinned reflection grimaces back at me.