When someone like me wins such a prize, oh, everyone would congratulate me, sure, but there’s definitely that undercurrent of jealousy

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth; baruch Hashem my father makes a very good living and we’re not lacking for anything. We live in a big house in a nice part of town and I always had everything I could ever ask for.

Another thing you should know about me is that I’m very intuitive. I just seem to “get” people and situations quickly, what people really mean and what responses are needed. I would have thought that was a regular thing, that everyone has it, but a while ago I realized that not everyone is blessed with this awareness. In fact, sometimes you see people respond to a situation without sensitivity and you wonder how on earth they could be so callous… while the truth is, they honestly did not see the situation for what it was.

I thought of that recently after I went through a certain situation with a girl in the neighborhood who I’ll call Shana. We’re not classmates, she’s in a different grade, but we just know each other from “around.”

About five years ago, our school decided to raise money for an organization, let’s say it was Chai Lifeline (it wasn’t, but I’m changing details so my story won’t be identifiable). There were also added incentives: the class that raised the most money would get a prize, and the kid that raised the most would get another prize. Well, everyone worked feverishly… except for me. I’m kind of blushing as I say this, but I was in Israel for a week, and by the time I got back, the contest was almost over, so I didn’t raise anything that first year.

But Shana saw me walking home one day after school, waited till my friends were out of earshot, and said, “Hey, can you ask your father for a check?” I saw that Shana wanted to win the prize, and didn’t want to give my own classmates the idea of asking me, and honestly, I didn’t mind. At the end of the day, all the money was going to tzedakah anyway. I ran into my house, asked my father for a check, and he wrote one out for $100 on the spot. Shana was really pleased and grateful.

The following year, I was able to participate in the same program, but I’ll tell you the truth. I didn’t give it my all. Why not, you might be wondering? For a few reasons. No one really wants the wealthy girl who has everything (or could have everything) to win a prize. Everyone wants someone who otherwise wouldn’t have the opportunity to win it. When someone like me wins such a prize, oh, everyone would congratulate me, sure, but there’s definitely that undercurrent of jealousy. Plus, I honestly did not need a prize anyhow.

So, what did I do? I kept careful tabs on how much the rest of the kids in my class had collected. The girl with the highest had collected almost $800, so I figured I’d stick around the $500 mark myself. A nice respectable amount, but not too overblown. I asked five relatives and collected the amount very quickly.

Meanwhile, I watched as everyone tried to raise the most money. Shana again quietly asked me to ask my father for a donation and again, I did, and blithely handed her the $100 check.

The same thing happened the following year. But the year after that, things started shifting. Shortly after Chanukah, I slowly became aware that things were changing in my house. I became aware of a tension coming from my parents. Of hushed phone conversations. That my father was home more often than usual. No one ever spelled anything out to me, but I realized that something had happened, and that money was definitely more of an issue than it had been in the past. I didn’t ask questions, kept my head low and didn’t ask for anything. I figured that way I’d make things easier for my parents.