I laugh. I might be younger than all of them here, but these girls are so… unworldly. So clueless

“SO

is it true you moved here from India?” Sari asks.

We’re working on the scenery in an empty classroom, desks pushed against the walls and huge canvases spread across the floor. Squeeze bottles of paint, and brushes in varying sizes are scattered around us.

By now, I actually know the names of the Year 11 scenery girls: Sari, Devorah, Esther, and Michal. It’s the day after I unofficially joined the crew, and since play practice today doesn’t include any of my scenes, I’m free to spend the time hanging out in the scenery room.

There’s something about paint that’s just so freeing, relaxing.

Maybe that’s why, when Sari asks, I don’t give her the same short response I gave my classmates, back when the year began.

“Yup. My parents still live there. But there aren’t any Jewish schools where we live, so I’m staying with my grandparents here for the rest of high school.”

“India, so cool,” Esther says. “Is that, like, a third-world country?”

I laugh. I might be younger than all of them here, but these girls are so… unworldly. So clueless.

“India is huge,” I tell them. “And the cities near where I live are, like, real cities. They have banks and hospitals and airports and phones and technology… all of that.”

Esther looks impressed.