She takes a breath and says recklessly, “So how about I join you? We were gonna do history and grammar as well, and this way, you don’t have to do it twice.”

“Three times, since I’ve already completed the homework on my own for these subjects.”

“Three times, whatever.” Mimi stops short. Is she nuts? Voluntarily joining one of Kayla’s group sessions? But her classmates seem to come back again and again; they can’t be so bad.

Kayla, though, is frowning. “But that will make it a group of four, plus myself. I’ve never done that before.”

“We could try.” Mimi doesn’t know why she’s persisting with the idea; she should be running a mile away, not pushing Kayla to go for it. But somehow the idea of studying with Kayla and her classmates doesn’t feel as crazy as it used to.

“Okay, I guess,” Kayla says slowly, and Mimi smiles.

Okay, so it’s just a tiny bit weird, sitting cross-legged on Kayla’s carpet with three random classmates, Kayla herself stiff-backed in her desk chair, reading her notes aloud. No food in here, Mimi notes, though Kayla has carefully provided each girl with a plastic cup, and there are two bottles of water, untouched, on the desk.

They’re starting with the history review, and it’s clear that Toby and Malka are regulars here, because they seem to know the routine: Kayla reads, occasionally stopping to allow for questions, and at the end of each section, she dictates a written test on the material, which the others answer in serious silence.

“We’ll grade it afterwards, so you can see where your knowledge of the information is lacking,” Kayla says.

She’s done this with Kayla before, one on one, but this feels – too intense, too weird. Even though no one is laughing at Kayla, and they’re all studiously writing down answers as instructed.

Mimi looks down at her blank notebook page, then makes a sudden decision and scrambles to her feet.

“Be back soon,” she mumbles.

Outside, with the door safely closed behind her, Kayla’s voice reduced to a muted hum, Mimi steadies herself. Okay, so that was weird, but now she knows; she won’t do it again. She can – she can study with friends, or go back to their old arrangement working with Kayla privately; her sister will do that for her.

She feels strangely guilty at the thought.

Distantly, she hears the phone ringing downstairs. It stops, then starts again. Mimi leans against the bannister, cradles her chin in her hands, breathes. What’s bothering her so much?

How she sees Kayla. How her classmates see Kayla. They seem to be chasms apart. So who’s right? What is right?

A thought dawns on her, a realization that’s been creeping up for a while.

There’s more to Kayla than her social skills – or lack of them. There’s so much more.

She’s responsible. Principled. Determined. What had her friends said the other day? That Kayla had become a force to be reckoned with in the class, a personality, a character.

Well, a character she’d always been. Just – a different sort of character from Mimi, from her friends, from everyone she’d ever called normal.

So what did this all mean?

The phone stops ringing. A moment later, Benny bounds up the stairs, holding it aloft.

“Miiimiii!” he calls, then notices her standing there and tosses the phone over the bannister. “Phone call for you!” He dashes back down again.

The screen shows an unfamiliar number. Who…?

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mimi, this is Tova, from gym club.”

Tova? Calling her at home?

The phone feels suddenly slippery beneath her palm.

“Uh, hi,” she stammers. Have I missed a coaching session or something? Does she want to cancel our arrangement? Oh, no, please Hashem, not that. Not when things are finally straightening out…

“I have an offer for you,” Tova says.

An offer?

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 928)