I’m not regular Libby anymore, just some strange kid who flits in and out of school with the same tired excuses
As told to Rochel Samet
If there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s no reason for me to miss my cousin’s bar mitzvah kiddush. Five of my aunts pounce when I walk in.
“Libbbyyyyy! We haven’t seen you in ages!”
“Your mother said you haven’t been feeling well or something?” Aunt Breindy asks, pushing a cup of water into my hand. “You look a bit pale, doesn’t she, Esti?”
Aunt Esti surveys me critically. “Totally. Here, sit down.” She pulls over a chair.
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