Mimi can’t help but snort. So Ella. But on the tail of the momentary amusement comes a rush of anger: come to terms?

The silence is thicker than the congealed mass of leftover syrup on Shoshana’s plate.

“This — I didn’t plan it,” Mimi blurts. She looks at Shoshana’s stricken face, then Ella’s stony one. “I mean, I did, we did plan to meet, separately that is, but I didn’t mean for everyone to end up meeting together…”

She’s making it worse.

Shoshana grabs her bag. “I’m going,” she says, looking devastatingly close to tears.

“No, wait, you should stay,” Mimi says automatically. The others are quiet. Too quiet.

Come on, Ella, Tzippy, seriously? Can’t you guys grow up?

“I guess you can stay,” Tzippy finally mumbles. “It’s dumb to fight like this, anyway. We’re not in kindergarten.”

Ella sits down stiffly on the other side of table, talking in a detached tone without meeting anyone’s eyes. “We’re not fighting,” she says disdainfully. “We just… need to come to terms with what happened.”

Mimi can’t help but snort. So Ella. But on the tail of the momentary amusement comes a rush of anger: come to terms? Seriously. And just how long, exactly, is that supposed to take? When will the coming to term actually take place? How?

What are Ella and Tzippy waiting for, maintaining a Cold War silence rivaling whatever Miss Spiegel was going on about last History class?

Shoshana’s still frozen, arms wrapped protectively around her bag, and the look on her face makes something inside Mimi finally snap.