Free How to Ruin My Teenage Life by Simone Elkeles Page A

clear my throat. Striking the match, I light both candles. When they’re lit, I cover my eyes with my palms and say, “ Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha’olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat . Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has made us holy through His commandments and commanded us to kindle the Sabbath light.”
    I take my seat at the table, abandoning the candles in the corner, when Mrs. Katz says, “Amy, did you make a wish?”
    â€œA wish?”
    â€œYes, over the candles. It’s our custom to do the prayer, then make a silent wish to God. Or a thank-you to God … whatever your heart feels like saying.”
    Standing up and walking back to the bright yellow burning candles, I cover my eyes again and think about what I want to say.
    â€œAsk God for Ben to accidentally have his orthodontist wire his mouth shut,” Jess says.
    â€œAsk for Jess to grow boobs,” Ben’s voice chimes in.
    Ignoring both of them, I say to God, Please take care of my Safta in Israel. She has cancer and needs your help. And also, thanks for giving me this family to have dinner with tonight so I’m not alone .
    I look up, expecting everyone to be staring at me and to ask me what I wished for. But they’re not; they respect my private Shabbat wish and thanks to God. I love Jessica and her family. Even Ben.
    â€œI saw Amy’s boobies upstairs,” Ben says, then wags his eyebrows up and down at me.
    Okay, maybe not Ben.
    Mrs. Katz slams her hand on the table. “Can I please have a respectful Shabbat?”
    â€œListen to your mother,” Mr. Katz says. He stands while picking up the silver Shabbat wine cup and pours the red wine until it’s almost overflowing. “ Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha’olam, boray pri ha-gafen . Amen.”
    After he takes a sip from the cup, he passes it around for everyone else to take a sip. Ben puts on a big show of gulping down the wine, but then he coughs so it splatters across the white tablecloth.
    Jess rolls her eyes, takes a sip, and passes the cup to me. I’m not a wine drinker, but this wine is so sweet it’s like drinking sugary children’s cough syrup.
    Ben lifts the embroidered cloth cover off of the challah, the Shabbat bread which is expertly braided at the kosher bakery down the street. “ Baruch ata Adonai Eloheinu, melech ha’olam, ha-motze lechem min ha’aretz ,” he says, then makes a big show of singing, “Aaa, aaah, maaaaaaiiiiinnn.”
    Jess and I mumble, “Amen.”
    Ben tears a chunk of the challah off and tosses everyone a small piece from the chunk. I think he tried tossing it into my cleavage, but I’m not sure. And when it comes to tossing a piece to Jess, he whips it at her. I think the kid needs to go to therapy, or at least be locked up until he turns eighteen.
    â€œHow is the conversion class going, Amy?” Mr. Katz asks me as he takes a spoonful of matzoh ball soup.
    â€œGood. Rabbi Glassman is really nice.”
    Mrs. Katz puts her hand over her husband’s. “He married us, you know. Twenty-two years ago.”
    I wonder if Rabbi Glassman will officiate my wedding one day. Even though he’s not Orthodox, he won’t officiate a marriage between a Jewish person and a non-Jew. He’s kind of strict about that, even refused to marry his own sister because she married a Christian guy. I want to marry someone Jewish because I think it will head off lots of arguments. It’s important that my kids are Jewish; it’s important that my family doesn’t eat pork or shellfish … or mix meat and milk products.
    â€œAre you going to the youth group meeting tomorrow?” Mrs. Katz asks.
    Jessica nods her head and says, “Are you coming, Amy?”
    â€œI wasn’t planning on it.”
    â€œYou should go. It’s fun.”
    After