“Jonathan!”

“What? I’m serious. Our little girl is growing up,” my dad says.

“Trust me, I get it,” my mom says.

“I think you look nice, Milla,” Max says, sticking his head out from the den, where he’s been watching TV.

“Thank you, Max,” I say, watching my mother’s face as she deliberates if she’s going to make me go upstairs and change. “Please, Mom?”

Her face softens, and she smiles ruefully. “I remember my first time going to a bat mitzvah.” Then she shakes her head. “But I cannot let my daughter out of the house with safety pins running down her back. No way.”

“Aunty Steph says you used to wear jeans with safety pins down the legs—on the outside,” I say.

“That was considered the ultimate in cool, I’ll have you know,” she says. I raise my eyebrows. “Everyone did it,” she adds defensively.

“Well, I’m not doing what everyone else does, I’m being independent,” I say, and I know I’ve got her. She and my dad share a private look.

“Thank you! Thank you!” I say, hugging her before she can change her mind.

“When the bat mitzvah party season gets in full swing, I’ll take you shopping for some proper party dresses,” she says, smiling. “And of course your own bat mitzvah dress.”

Like all Tammy Birnbaum’s birthday parties, her bat mitzvah party is in her basement. I mean, I guess it’s not the same as a little-kid party with an entertainer—the basement is dark and pulsing with pop music—but it also doesn’t feel like what I imagined a bat mitzvah would be like.

“Mazal Tov! I like your dress,” I shout to Tammy over the din.

“Thanks, Milla, I like yours too.”

“Thanks,” I say. “It’s vintage.”

“Oh my god, Milla, I love your dress!” Tali squeals when I come over to stand with my friends. She’s wearing a skirt and matching sweater—a Shabbat outfit.

“Me too!” Sophie says. She’s also wearing a Shabbat outfit along with her shul shoes. Sophie and Tali always agree before a party what they’re going to wear, and then wear identically styled outfits. But looking around the room, it seems like no one was quite sure what is appropriate attire for our first class bat mitzvah. Ethan S. is wearing jeans and a T-shirt; Ethan W. is wearing a suit.

“It’s cool,” Natalie says. “But why do you have safety pins all down the back?” She’s wearing a tight dress made out of stretchy material, with a soft pearl-gray fur vest on top.

“It’s vintage,” I say, enjoying the look on everyone’s faces every time I say that. “Honey and me went to a thrift store—by ourselves.” I pause for more looks of admiration.

“Yeah, too bad Honey couldn’t come tonight,” Natalie cuts in. She adjusts her vest and smooths her blown-out hair behind her shoulder. “Anyway, my mom took me to the mall for a shopping spree. She says we’ll have so many parties coming up.” It occurs to me that Natalie is wearing the perfect outfit for Tammy’s bat mitzvah dance party. Also, my hand is itching to stroke the fur on her vest.