Chava was tempted to explain to ZeeZee exactly what was inappropriate about a Bas Yisrael dancing around a hospital dressed as a clown. But she didn’t need Rabbi Freund telling her to get more in touch with today’s generation to know that was a bad move. Even 30 years ago, girls didn’t enjoy having frumkeit rammed down their throats.

Thirty years ago, though, she would have known just how to answer a girl like ZeeZee — with the right combination of humor, mussar, and inspiration to gently push her to set her sights higher.

It worked then. Time and again. That instinct for how to best reach a girl and help her access her desire for greatness was what had made her so successful a teacher.

If she was no longer confident that she knew what to answer today’s girls, what did that make her now? Feeling indescribably old, she slipped her glasses back on her nose and looked at ZeeZee. Was this why the girl made her uncomfortable? Because she represented all her fears about her own irrelevancy?

Chava cleared her throat. “That sounds like such a beautiful chesed. Unfortunately, Shvilei’s chesed program only involves helping families in their homes. I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear.”

ZeeZee’s eyebrows shot up indignantly. “Whaaat? You mean chesed is just doing boring housework?” She half stood up, and then sat back down, pressing her lips together. Suddenly, she leaned forward. “Mrs. Edelman,” she said urgently, “I want — no, I need something different. Maybe they can make an exception? Can you help me?”

Chava was about to brush her off with another pat answer, when she looked at ZeeZee’s face and sucked in her breath. She was shocked to see actual desperation in the girl’s eyes. It was the first real, raw emotion she’d seen on ZeeZee’s face all year.

She looked down at her desk, rubbing her index finger around a chipped piece of paint. She’d been one of the teachers to help draft the school’s chesed policy, over a decade ago, after several disturbing incidents had made it clear the school needed to set stricter parameters on what constituted an appropriate environment. Chava was the last one to advocate bending rules.

She looked once again at ZeeZee, curiously. She was still shocked by the intensity of ZeeZee’s reaction. Why? She didn’t know what was causing it, but she did know that there was more depth to the girl than she’d imagined.

Chava shook her head slightly, ashamed. There was depth to every girl.

Slowly, she said, “Let me see what I can do.”

ZeeZee pulled her hoodie over her T-shirt as she stepped out into the Jerusalem night air.

“Brrr. Isn’t Israel supposed to be, like, hot in the summer?”

“You’ll warm up in a few minutes,” said Shani, and she began to briskly walk up the street.

“Whoa, I didn’t realize we were running a marathon,” gasped Rusi, as she jogged to catch up.

“Sorry, I like to exercise.” Without breaking her stride, Shani threw her roommates a sideways glance. “But it’s more fun with friends. Thanks for coming along.”

ZeeZee gave Rusi a hidden thumbs-up and, as Shani speed walked a few paces ahead, ZeeZee muttered, “So she does like us. She just doesn’t like going to Katzefet. Score one for you. You must’ve been right that it was a money thing.”

Rusi eyed Shani’s back. “Or not,” she whispered back. “It might be an eating thing.”

ZeeZee was on the verge of rolling her eyes, but then took a good look at her roommate. Was it just her imagination, or was Shani even skinnier than she’d been when they arrived?

She cleared her throat. “Missed you at dinner tonight,” she said to Shani, ignoring Rusi’s furious nudge. “Why weren’t you there?”

Shani kept her gaze straight ahead. “I was in the library, getting a head start on that Navi assignment.”

ZeeZee gaped at her. “Are you for real? But that’s not due until, like, a week after Succos!” She turned to Rusi. “Tell me you didn’t also start your Navi report.”

Rusi grinned apologetically. “I did, actually.”

“OMG! Two nerds for roommates!”

Rusi laughed, but Shani didn’t. Stiffly, she asked, “Why’d you miss me at dinner?”

Rusi’s phone rang at that moment. “Sorry,” she mouthed as she picked up. “Hi, Mommy, how’s it going?”

As Rusi continued talking, ZeeZee leaned toward Shani conspiratorially. “Have you noticed that she doesn’t cry anymore when she talks to her family? I’m shepping so much nachas!”

Shani frowned, and ZeeZee said, “Gosh, do you ever, like, laugh at jokes?”

Now Shani looked hurt, and ZeeZee regretted her remark. (“When Hashem created you, He left out the on/off switch between your brain and your mouth,” her sisters loved saying.)

Biting her lip, she turned away, and caught a snatch of Rusi’s conversation. “Succos? No, I haven’t made plans yet…. Yes, I know I can go to Chaykie’s sister, but, well… when I went for Shabbos, her kids all had to sleep in the living room! Don’t worry, I’ll find someplace. I’ll ask my friends…. Yes, I do have friends.” She glanced at ZeeZee and reddened.

ZeeZee snickered. “Tell your mom you can come with me, no problem.”

Rusi’s eyes widened. “Hold on a sec, Ma….”

“Seriously?” she asked ZeeZee. “Where are you going?”

“The Waldorf.”

Rusi’s mouth dropped open. “The Waldorf? Legit? Who’re you staying with?”

“Old friends of my father’s. They come every Succos.”

Shani stared. “You’re inviting a friend along to the Waldorf?”

“Ah, it’s only for meals,” ZeeZee said breezily. “We’ll sleep in the dorm. Wanna come, too?” She grinned at the expression on Shani’s face. “Don’t worry, they’re rolling in money. They host, like, these total blowout Yom Tov meals every year on Succos.”

Rusi was furiously updating her mother. “But ZeeZee said… yes, I know it’s, like, $200 a plate. I mean, well, I didn’t, but now I do. But ZeeZee said they’re rolling in money!” She listened for a moment and winced. “Okay, Ma. Fine, I hear. Listen, I’ll call you back, ’kay?”

She groaned as she hung up. “Big mistake. My mom hates the American hotel scene. No idea how she knows about it,” she muttered. “I’ve never been to a hotel in my life.”

They swerved around a mother pushing a stroller, and then she turned to ZeeZee. “Were you serious about this invite?”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 727)