“Ready to go home?” Sari asked. “Gimme another ten minutes, I just need to speak to Mrs. Levy about something.”

Huvy glowed at Sari’s assumption that of course they’d walk home from school together. Reluctantly, she said, “Sorry, but I need to leave now. We have film practice in a half hour, and my mom needs my help getting ready.”

“Ahh, film practice.” The look that Sari gave her made her glow even more. It was the same reaction with all of her friends, any time she mentioned the film. As if they thought she was the coolest person on earth.

Hah. As if, she thought, several minutes later, as she sidestepped a pile of fallen leaves on her way home. Still, she couldn’t lie to herself. It felt good to be admired. Especially if it made her into a part of the chevreh.

Huvy checked her watch and sped up her pace, taking quick breaths of the chilly air. It was already November. Where had all the time gone?

Well, a lot of it had been gobbled by film practice. Among the thousand things she hadn’t taken into consideration when she’d impulsively tried out for this film, she hadn’t realized quite how much of a time commitment it would be.

Would knowing that have made a difference? She kicked a fallen twig out of her way. The whole decision had been rash and stupid to begin with. But did she regret it? A few months ago, back in the summer, she wouldn’t have hesitated to give herself an honest yes. But now? She wasn’t sure.

When she got home, she found her mother in the middle of what sounded like an important phone call. From the way she was speaking slowly, with exaggerated enunciation, Huvy guessed that she was talking to someone foreign. Tirtza Konigsberg from down the block had already come over to babysit and was helping Mickey set up his Playmobil.

Her mother looked up from the phone, gave a silent wave, and mouthed, “Cookies.” With a nod, Huvy went straight to the kitchen and began mixing up a batch of peanut butter bars, for their after-practice snack. By the time the first of the cast had arrived, the cookies were in the oven and the studio furniture arranged for the rehearsal.

Rina got off the phone at the sound of the doorbell. “Here already?” she asked distractedly. Then she caught a whiff of the scent from the kitchen and said, “Mmm. Thanks so much, sweetie. Sorry I was busy with this phone call. These Bulgarian arrangements are more complicated than I’d imagined.”

“I thought I was taking care of the arrangements.”

Both mother and daughter swiveled around at the sound of Gabriella’s voice. Rina instantly scowled. “What made you think that? Because you took a trip there? Aren’t I the one who’s been making all the arrangements for this film up until now?”

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 627)