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“I'll be right back,” she said.

I followed her out into the store and there was Dad, weighed down with numerous bags, grinning and blushing.
Ew.
I may as well have asked him to
buy me a box of pads. How embarrassing. There are definitely some downsides to living with your dad when you're a
developing
twelve-year-old girl.

“Don't be embarrassed, Lilah,” Bubby said, probably seeing how red my face was. “When your father was your age, I had to help him with his…”

“STOP!” I said as loud as I could without dad hearing. I SO did not want to hear embarrassing childhood stories about my dad. Especially when he was three feet in front of me. In the bra department of Sears. This was horrifying enough, thank you very much.

“Got what you need?” he asked, making no mention of the socks I had said I was looking for.

“Yep,” I said, and led him over to the sales desk so he could pay. Without another word, he pulled out his credit card and paid for the bras while I wondered if everyone would know at school that I was now a member of the bra-wearing society. Not that it was an official society or anything, but girls who wore bras were different, more grown up, even the ones like me who barely had anything to put in them.

We were almost clear, almost at the door to the outside when I heard, “Hi, Lilah.”

Like I was on TV, in slow motion, I turned to see Andrew (
eh-hem
, Andy) Finkel standing right there in front of me. He was smiling. I wondered if he could see
through my bag to the bras inside. I put the bag behind my back, but instead of hiding it, I knocked it into my dad's arm, and it fell from my grasp.

And of course, because I hadn't been humiliated enough, the boxes slipped out and my size 32AA bras, one in white, one in blush pink, went sliding across the floor.

I truly wanted to die.

Dad was so laden with his bags that he couldn't bend down, but Andy, Mr. Polite and helpful, immediately bent down to help.

“I'VE GOT IT!” I hollered, and dropped to the floor to pick up the boxes as quickly as humanly possible. I stuffed them into the bag as I yelled, “I gotta go. Bye!”

And then, not even waiting to see if Dad would follow, I bolted from the store.

I'd
never
been so humiliated in all my life. NEVER!

Finally
, Dad got close enough to the car to unlock it with the remote. I opened the door and dove inside, just in case Andrew (I couldn't bear to call him Andy after he'd seen my bras) came out of the store.

“Who was that?” Dad asked about a hundred hours later after he hung up his new clothes on the hook in the back and finally got into the driver's seat.

“Nobody.”

“It didn't look like nobody.”

“Just a guy from my school.”

“A special guy?”

I gave Dad a look. It didn't work to get him to stop bugging me about it.

“Come on, Lilah, you can tell me.”

“Just a guy, okay?”

He held up his hands, palms facing me. “Okay, I see this is a touchy subject with you.”

Ya think?
I thought, but I didn't say anything out loud.

“His mother seemed very nice.”

“His
mother
?” I hadn't even noticed Andrew wasn't alone.

“Well yes, Lilah, after you ran out of there, I had to say
something
, so I introduced myself to his mother.”

Oy, as my bubby would say.

“She was wearing a lovely suit. How could you not notice?” Ms. Lafontaine asked.

Oy again. “I was a little preoccupied,” I said.

“What?” Dad looked over at me while he started the car.

“Nothing.”

“Listen, Lilah,” Dad said in his
you're about to get some fatherly advice, whether you want it or not
voice. “You have no reason to be embarrassed. All girls go
through changes.” He coughed, a sure sign
he
was embarrassed.

“Dad, I've already had this talk with Mom.” And now with my dead grandmother
and
some old fashion designer who talks about things like
foundation garments
(and by the way, looking around the store, I didn't see even one sign for foundation garments, so I still have no idea what they are).

“Okay, kid, but remember, if you need to talk about anything, anything at all, I'm here.”

“Sure,” I said. But I didn't mean it. You can't talk to your dad about boobs and bras. No way.

Dad left the house at six thirty. Twenty minutes later, Alex got dropped off so we could watch the rest of
Ghostbusters
, which we never got a chance to finish on our previous movie night.

As we grabbed some snacks from the kitchen and walked into the den, I told Alex about the bra disaster. She was sympathetic and groaned at all the right places in my story. Finally, someone who understood real humiliation!

“How did he look when he saw the bras?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I'm not sure. I was so completely mortified, I had to bolt.”

“That's too bad. It would have been helpful to know if he was impressed.” She rolled her eyes. “What am I saying? Of course he was impressed.”

“Impressed? I'm not so sure.”

Alex waved me off. “So, are you wearing one now?”

I nodded.

“Let's see.”

Being that Alex is my BFF and we change next to each other for gym class, I wasn't at all embarrassed, so I pulled up my shirt to show her my bra. It was the blush pink one.

She cocked her head as she stared at my chest. “Not bad. But you need more to fill it.”

“Like I have any control over that?”

Alex started flapping her arms like a chicken. “What about exercises?”

I pointed toward her still-flat chest. “They don't seem to be working for you any.”

“True.” She sighed and dropped to the couch. “I can't wait until we turn thirteen. It's all going to happen for us in eighth grade.”

I nodded. “Thirteen will be special. Twelve is so blah.” I grabbed the remote and started the movie while Alex jumped up and turned out the light.

“I know,” Alex said. “But you never know, the dance is coming up.”

I had completely forgotten! The seventh-grade dance. The one I was supposed to be going to with Andrew.

“I can't go.”

Alex looked at me so fast, it was a surprise she didn't give herself whiplash. “What? You
have
to go.”

“I can't go
now
.”

“Why not?”

And here I thought Alex really got it. “Um, Alex, bra disaster?”

She waved me off again. “You watch, I bet he likes you more now that he knows you wear a bra.”

I seriously doubted it. But I didn't want to talk about it anymore. I stuffed a handful of chips into my mouth and started the movie.

A few hours later, after Alex's parents showed up to take her home, I was vegging on the couch watching a repeat of
ANTM
(Cycle 10, one of my faves) when I heard Dad come home.

And I didn't need my dead grandmother to tell me it was another horrible date. It was written all over Dad's face.

“Oh no,” I said, muting the TV.

“‘Oh no' is right,” said Bubby, who'd obviously chaperoned.

Dad dropped heavily onto the couch beside me.

“I think I'm done with dating, kid.”

“What happened?”

He sighed and rubbed his temple before telling
me the following, “Well, I guess she's newly divorced. As in
very
newly divorced.”

“And?”

He took a deep breath. “I thought I was being smart by letting her pick the restaurant, but what she didn't tell me was that it was the restaurant she and her ex-husband used to go to.”

“That's weird, isn't it?”

“That's not the half of it,” Bubby said.

“That's not the half of it,” Dad said, almost at the same time. “She got sad about it and started talking all about her ex-husband and why he left her.”

“Why did he leave her?” I asked.

Dad looked at me and shook his head. “Doesn't matter.”

Bubby was much more helpful. “His receptionist.”

Ah.

“Anyway, she was all weepy at the table, which was really uncomfortable, but then her ex actually came into the restaurant with his new girlfriend.”

Bubby provided more pertinent details. “Who's half her age and twice her cup size.”

Oh!

“Dad, I'm really sorry.”

He looked up at me. “It's okay. I'm just not cut out for the dating scene.”

I was suddenly very sad for him.

“Poor Martin,” Bubby said, obviously feeling as bad for Dad as I was.

“What about eHarmony?”

He cocked his head and looked at me through narrowed eyes. “What do you know about eHarmony?”

I rolled my eyes. “Dad, I'm twelve. Trust me, I'm not on the Internet trolling for a husband. I see it all over the TV.” And on cue, one of those sappy commercials with the nauseatingly happy couples popped on the screen.

Dad cringed. “I think I'm done for now.”

“Oy,” Bubby said with a sigh. “He'll never get married again.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“You know
what
?” Dad asked.

Oops.

“I mean… I know you need a break for now, but maybe in a bit you can try one of those websites. I don't want you to be lonely.”

He put his arm around my shoulders. “As long as I've got you, I'm not lonely.”

Something in his voice told me he wasn't being completely honest. He was
totally
lonely. He knew it, my grandmother knew it, and I knew it.

But what to do?

Returning to school on Monday was terrifying, not just because I was wearing one of my new bras (the white one), but because Andrew was there and KNEW I was wearing one of my new bras.

I tried not to look at him at all during first period, but it was hard not to. I mean, there was the matter of his cuteness AND there was still that thing about going to the dance. Were we or weren't we? Alex of course wanted to go (because Sean was going to be her kind-of date), but I wasn't so sure going with Andrew was still on the table. Even if he wasn't deterred by my new bra-wearing status, I'd acted like a freak at the mall, and there was a good chance he wasn't into going to the dance with a crazy person.

But then the bell rang and before I could get out
of the classroom, he was there standing right next to me.

“Hi, Lilah,” he said.

“Hi, Andre… Andy,” I said back, feeling weird about calling him Andy, but he'd told me to. My heart fluttered a little.

“I'm looking forward to going to the dance on Friday,” he said.

I looked up at him, but his eyes were on my chest.

OMG!

Then I heard a voice, not a real voice or even a ghost's voice but a little voice in my head that sounded a lot like Alex.
“He's impressed because he knows you're wearing a bra.”

“Eyes up, Son,” Mr. Finkel said, sounding embarrassed.

My face heated up.

But then before it got really weird, Andy looked into my eyes. And his face got all red and splotchy. “Oh, uh, so Friday?”

“Friday,” I said. Because I didn't know what else to say.

“I can get my mom to pick you up on our way.”

I shook my head. “It's okay, I can meet you here.” But then I thought maybe not accepting the ride would make it seem like I didn't really want to go with him. “Or, you can pick me up. Whatever, you know.”

He looked confused. “Which would you prefer?”

“I… uh…”

“Lilah,” my grandmother said out of the blue. “Tell him your father will want to drive you and that you'll meet him at the dance.”

Grateful for the coaching, I said exactly that and exhaled when Andy smiled.

“Okay,” he said.

“Great,” I said.

“Great,” he repeated.

I picked up my backpack. “I gotta go.”

“Okay, bye, Lilah.”

Before I could fumble and embarrass myself again, I got out of there.

The second I was out in the hall, Alex, Tamsin, Anita, Sherise, and Fiona swarmed around me and then dragged me into the bathroom and into a stall so we could talk semiprivately. It was pretty crowded, but we squished in.

“You're still going to the dance, right?” Alex asked.

I nodded.

Tamsin squealed.

Fiona had other things on her mind. “Show us your bra.”

I pulled up my shirt.

“Oh, it's pretty,” Anita said.

“Thanks. My grandmother and Priscilla Lafontaine helped me pick it out.”

Fiona said, “Ohhh! Prissy Lafontaine? How cool is that?”

“I know,” I said, suddenly feeling pretty good about my bra-buying experience. I'd never heard of Prissy Lafontaine before, but that my friends knew who she was, and that she seemed to like hanging around me, was pretty darn cool.

“Maybe she can help the rest of us,” Anita said.

Alex looked Anita up and down. “You don't need a bra.”

Anita pouted, but I said, “She needs one as much as I do,” which I think made Anita feel better, even if it was a bit of a white lie.

The bell rang, signaling the end of break. The girls rushed out of the bathroom, but I still had to pee so I stayed behind, risking Mr. Burrows being a little upset at my tardiness.

Afterward, as I was drying my hands, I heard a strange noise. I froze. Then I heard it again; it was someone crying.

“Hello?” I said.

No response.

“Are you okay?”

“Go away,” the girl said, sniffling.

I was undeterred. “What's the matter?”

“Just go away, okay?”

I recognized the voice. It was Dolly. I stood there for a second, not sure what to do. I mean, my instinct was to help, but it was
Dolly
.