At first glance, this novel hits many common middle grade beats: a tween who’s moved homes and is missing a best friend and navigating new social challenges and crushes. Author Rebecca Bendheim imbues these tropes with exceptional nuance and insight, however, throwing in some unexpected twists and elevating the story into a truly terrific read and a moving tale of coming of age, coming out, and finding both love and oneself.
Eighth-grader Lacey isn’t happy about having to move to Rhode Island from Texas and leave her best friend Grace. Even though Lacey was sometimes embarrassed by Grace’s quirkiness and baffled by her lack of caring about what people think, Grace (who has two moms and is pansexual) has been Lacey’s best friend since they were toddlers. Lacey is also not happy that the move has derailed the bat mitzvah for which she had been preparing.
Lacey is more excited, however, about starting a new, theater-focused middle school, and is surprised when she’s cast as the lead in the upcoming production of Bye Bye Birdie. She’s less enthusiastic about the school tradition that two leads must kiss during the final performance, but is hoping that it will help her understand what she’s been missing, not having kissed anyone before. Two girls in the class offer to help her arrange things with one of the two boys in starring roles, but one of the girls in particular seems to have her own agenda. Also, Lacey is gradually realizing that the person she really wants to kiss is the new girl, Violet.
This plays out as Lacey decides to reach out to a local rabbi and restart her bat mitzvah preparations. The values and lessons that she reflects on as she prepares her bat mitzvah speech inform her thoughts as she tries to figure out who she is and who she wants to be; the Latino-cued rabbi is a helpful guide here.
Various incidents, however, including her own missteps, upset her relationships with her friends, father, and older sister—and even with Grace, still very much a presence in Lacey’s thoughts. Bendheim skillfully balances Lacey’s internal reflections with lively dialog, and gives us numerous fleshed-out and humanly flawed characters who are often not entirely what we might expect.
Lacey’s coming out is shown with as much thoughtfulness as I’ve ever seen. Bendheim emphasizes that it’s a process, not a moment, and conveys that it’s not just a simple matter of finding courage or having supportive parents. Coming out—or more accurately, people’s responses to one’s coming out, even if positive, can mean that something like a crush suddenly “has to be this big, hard entire-life thing,” as Lacey says at one point. In short, its not just that coming out can be difficult in the moment, but that it may complicate other things. Bendheim masterfully explores Lacey’s experiences of some such complications.
As a Jew myself, I also appreciate the book’s multifaceted look at what it means to be Jewish. And while Lacey’s reading of Anne Frank’s The Diary of a Young Girl might initially seem trope-y, Bendheim leans into Anne’s exploration of her sexuality and Lacey’s resonance with it in a way that feels fresh and relevant.
Bendheim also makes some pointed observations about active allyship and not remaining a bystander, but as with the book’s other messages, weaves them gracefully into the story. And without revealing too many spoilers, I’ll say that the love story at the heart of the book is as powerful and touching as any I’ve seen in middle grade fiction. All told, it’s a compelling read that should find a welcome place on many home, library, and synagogue bookshelves.
Lacey, her family, and Grace read as White; there are several secondary characters of color. One minor character is nonbinary and aroace; one boy in Lacey’s class is bi and another seems to be interested in him.
