I hurry to keep up as Tamara swishes through the school entranceway and up the staircase. I stumble over the bottom step and Tiffy snickers. I feel myself flush red, and my ears start buzzing. Alright, then. Time to show her exactly who she’s messing with.

I hang back, allowing the group to pass in front, and watch from behind, waiting for just the right moment. And then Tiffy steps on Tamara’s heel; the latter swings around and glares at her. Tiffy jumps back hastily and I grin. Perfect.

Time to catch up with Tamara.

I’m practically running as I push down the hallway until I’m side by side with Tamara’s perfect profile, and Tiffy, Bina, and Rikki are behind me. One, two, three… now. “Ouch. Tiff, that was totally my heel,” I say loudly but kindly. “It’s fine, just be more careful next time, ’kay?”

Tiffy looks furious, she opens her mouth angrily but then Tamara jumps in and rolls her eyes. “RaRa, you are way too nice. Tiffy, just ’cuz you’re like two shoe sizes bigger than the rest of us, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch where you’re walking. You did it to me, too.” She sticks her tongue out so Tiffy knows she’s joking, but still. Ouch for reals.

But whatever. I’m back in Tamara’s good graces. Eyes on the prize and all that.

By the time we enter class 10-B, Tamara and I are laughing and joking, but I’m not foolish enough to think she’s forgotten my slipup at the breakfast table. The girl’s got the memory of an elephant.

“Hey, RaRa.”

I look up, surprised. Shani Blau is waving at me across the classroom.

“Bokers, Rachel Ahuva,” Chan Berg chimes in. I blink. I receive a few more “hellos” and “’mornings.”

Smiling bemusedly, I catch sight of Tamara looking mutinous.

Oh, boy, out of the frying pan into the fire.

I peer around the chattering girls looking for Hadas; I don’t find her. Suddenly I feel an arm sling around my shoulder. Blinking, I look up into Tamara’s wide brown eyes. “How fun was that party?” she sighs loudly, leaning her head toward mine. Oh, two could play this game.

“It was fun,” I say lazily. Careful, RaRa. You don’t want too much enthusiasm, but not too little, either. “Your house is amazing.”

Tamara looks smug, and I think the other girls have actually turned green with envy.

Mrs. Fuerst comes in just then to usher us to the auditorium, and it isn’t a moment too soon. I am just starting to make myself nauseous.

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 732)