I roll my eyes. “Oh, puhleeeeze, nobody is going to flip.”

He just purses his lips together so he looks remarkably like Hadassah. “Mmm-hmmm.”

Brothers.

We get our bags at long, long last and head out into the sticky late-August heat. Eretz Yisrael is hot, but this is different. This heat coats your skin in sticky sweat.

Menachem, our older brother, is standing on the sidewalk, looking around nervously.

“Menachem!”

Avrumi half hugs him; I punch him on the arm. “You got your license!”

He’s looking at me like I fell from the moon. “Who are you?”

I roll my eyes for the 50th time. “What is wrong with everyone? It’s me. Dahlia.”

Dopey Dahlia, I say silently.  And as we approach Passaic, I start to feel heavier. The laugh that bubbled up so easily in Eretz Yisrael seems stuck in my throat.

Who was I kidding? Everyone can make a big deal about my hair and clothing — oh, and as of tomorrow, my straight, braces-free teeth — but at the end of the day, nothing will have changed. It’ll just be me, alone, attending high school friendless and faceless. Same old, same old.

Mommy is amazing. She wraps me in a bear hug, tells me I got taller, and that’s it. Maybe she really doesn’t notice my new look, or maybe she knows that if anyone else mentions it I’m going to explode, but either way, her silence on the topic makes me feel a whole lot better.

Tatty swings me up in a hug. He smells like leather; it’s comforting. The smells of my childhood: Levine Family Shoes. And no, it’s not super cool and fun to have your father sell shoes, because Tatty sells bubby shoes. Even I know that.

I put my things down in my room. Even that seems different. The bed has new linen on it, the dresser is shining, the desktop empty.

By the time I come down, Avrumi is already slurping up a bowl of Mommy’s chicken soup with kneidels. “Yum,” I say. “I want.”

Ma smiles and points to the leather bench. Totally the best spot, if a bit underrated. I sit, and soon I’m breathing in the steam of Mommy’s soup. “Yum,” I say, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

I open them to find Mommy standing there, smiling happily at me. Her faded sheitel is slightly askew and her clothing are two different shades of brown, yet Mommy is the happiest sight. She is always smiling, always laughing, always glad to see us.

“What?” I say, grinning back.

Mommy wipes her hands on the towel on her shoulder. “I’m just enjoying you being home. I missed you two.”

Avrumi and I say, “Awwwww,” in unison, like we’re supposed to, but inside, something glows. Mommy missed me. The old me. Dopey Dahlia. My new look hasn’t made me any more or any less lovable in her eyes.

I think that’s the thing to keep in mind. That I’m still me, just with a new, shiny cover.

And we all know what they say about judging books by covers: Don’t do it.

Well, everyone’s doing it: books are being judged left and right. I walk out of the orthodontist the next day, half asleep, running my tongue over my now straight teeth. Wow, I’ve had those braces for two years. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to not get stabbed in the mouth every time you move your tongue.

Gotta say, it’s pretty nice.

Shout it out, they’re free, they’re free

Oh can’t you finally see

No more metal and rubber cage

I’ve now come of age

My mouth’s at long last just me

I give a little inward laugh at my terrible limerick — gotta work on that one — when I bump into someone. Like, literally bump into them.

“Ow,” I say, grabbing my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

Oh, gosh. It’s Popular Perel. I actually have to stop calling her that, even mentally, just because it sounds like we’re all in a terrible, cheesy kids’ book.

Popular Perel woke up one morning…

She gives a little laugh. “Yeah, totally. You?”

I turn a little to the side. “Yeah, thanks.” She doesn’t recognize me. We’ve been in school together since kindergarten and She. Doesn’t. Recognize Me.

I think about walking away, but I’m tired and I might as well rip the Band-Aid off quickly, which is a totally gross metaphor that always makes me think of scabs.

I hate scabs.

“How was your summer, Perel?”

She looks confused. Her bright blue eyes scrunch up. “Do we— Dahlia?”

Okay, this is actually kind of fun.

“Hi,” I say simply.

Her jaw actually falls open. Maybe I like this cheesy book. “Dahlia. You look… you are—”

“I got my braces off,” I say helpfully.

She shakes her head like she has water in her ears.

“My mother’s waiting in the parking lot. Gotta run,” I say, very apologetically.

And then I leave Popu— I mean Perel, I leave Perel, alone in Dr. Elliot’s lobby, and walk elegantly and straight-backed, like Hadassah taught me, all the way to the car.

The second I get in, I schlump down, because it’s a lot more comfortable, and flash my new smile at Mommy.

“Gorgeous. May you always have what to smile about, sweetheart.”

And suddenly, I’m blinking back tears.

“Thanks, Mommy.”

Amen.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Cozey, Issue 1008)