Was I the only one... the only one who hadn’t been invited to Bracha Samet’s bas mitzvah?
The classroom was filled with shouts, squeals, and yells as two by two, the girls came marching in. I sat silently at my desk by the window, trying not to watch the tumult.
“Chedva! Leah! Shani! Isn’t it stunning?!”
Girls were whipping heavy cream-colored squares out of their backpacks and waving them around. I discreetly glanced over at one of the girls nearest me, who was waving her card like a banner above her head.
It was a thick, beautiful cream invitation with a delicate floral pattern and tiny, sparkling rhinestones glued on. I could see the shimmery lavender letters spelling out a single name in the center of the card.
Who else? I suppressed a little sigh and looked down at my empty desk.
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