The plan is foolproof: Miss Spiegel will hand out the tests, then retreat behind her desk with a pile of papers to grade, as she always does. She’ll glance up once or twice, enough to see that everyone looks engrossed, and then turn her attention back to her grading. When the lesson is over, she’ll ask someone to collect the papers and bring them to the teachers’ room.

By the time she flips through them and sees that every last one is completely and utterly blank, they’ll be safely in another class.

Foolproof – but not Kayla-proof.

Mimi’s stomach starts to hurt.

Sara Reinman, sitting near the door, hisses, “She’s here! shhh!” and the chatter about the upcoming prank instantly ceases.

Miss Spiegel pushes open the door a little nervously.

And then Mimi notices, with a start, that there’s a shadow hovering behind the teacher.

A shadow that reveals itself to be none other than Mrs. Schwartz, the assistant principal.

With Mrs. Schwartz in the room, apparently settled at the back for the duration of the class, everything changes, starting with Miss Spiegel, whose back straightens as she seems to regain some of her confidence.

Mimi’s classmates are looking at each other meaningfully. Raizy’s ice blue eyes are cold fury.

“I’ll be handing out the tests, and you can begin,” Miss Spiegel says, passing back the sheaf of papers.

Mrs. Schwarz quietly gets up from her seat at the back of the room, begins pacing the aisles, glancing at each girl’s paper as she passes.

Horror. They’re going to have to take the test, after all. And Mimi hasn’t studied, not one word.

She resists the urge to sink her head in her arms and cry. To lose her average over this? A stupid prank of Raizy’s? She should’ve studied just in case, shouldn’t have relied on that “foolproof” plan. Kayla probably studied. Come to think of it, Kayla could score 100 without studying. And Kayla, apparently, had a hand in this.

Suddenly, Mimi is angry. Angry at Raizy and at Kayla, at the class for going along with a plan doomed to fail, at herself for not thinking things through better. She doesn’t know a thing without studying, can’t rely on her memory of what they learned in class. This was going to be a disaster.

“Mimi? Have you started?” Mrs. Schwartz asks, leaning over her desk. There’s a firm edge to her voice.

“I’m  — about to,” Mimi mumbles, darting one more look around. Everyone seems to be answering the questions. Well, what choice do they have? Some of them look anxious though; she can’t be the only one who struggles to take a test without studying. And Raizy is staring at Kayla’s back with a mixture of anger and loathing on her face.

Only Kayla herself is sitting just as usual, filling page after page with perfectly neat handwriting, perfectly accurate answers.

Mimi bites her lip, forces herself to read the first question, tries to dredge up something  — anything  — from her memory.

Forty excruciating minutes later, it’s over. She managed to fill out part of the test, guessed at random for the multiple-choice section, tried matching dates with events on the second page, but she can’t imagine she’s done well.

“Breindy, please collect the papers,” Miss Spiegel says. She waits by the door for the stack, then hurriedly leaves the room.

Mrs. Schwartz strides to the front and holds up one hand.

“A good Chodesh, girls. Just a reminder that no — ah — change of schedule — will be accepted here, even today.”

She nods at them and leaves the room.

And then the classroom explodes.

“How did she know—”

“What did you do—”

“Who told them that we—”

And Raizy’s voice, pitched above everyone else’s: “Who on earth was stupid enough to do that?”

The room went quiet. Raizy’s eyes swivelled from one side to the other. “Who told Miss Goody-Goody over here what we were planning? Because, obviously, she went and filled Mrs. Schwartz in.”

Kayla’s face is frozen.

No one moves.

“Maybe, y’know, she just went and told her we planned something. She was here the first time we spoke about it, remember?” Mali offers.

“What a sneak,” Raizy says in disgust. “Like, didn’t anyone teach her social skills in second grade?”

“Shh,” someone says, uncomfortably. No one else responds. Too many eyes are flickering away, away from Raizy, away from Kayla, as if not seeing would help them pretend nothing has happened.

Kayla holds half an avocado in one hand, a spoon in the other. Her arms close around herself, protectively.

And then slowly, confusedly, she stands up, and leaves the room.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 922)