I decided to give voice to the question. “But why did the yeshivah have to move here?”

Elka

Idragged my feet down the bumpy path after school that day. School was fun. Maybe exciting, sort of. At least, in the beginning it had been. But now, I wasn’t so sure. Time was passing, but things weren’t really changing. And after so many weeks, being the new girl wasn’t exciting anymore. When our apartment finally came into view, I knew what I needed. Mama. Mama could help me figure this all out.

“Mama,” I cried the moment I walked through the door, “I need a best friend.”

“Okay,” Mama said, turning toward me to greet me. But I had no time for questions about how my day was. This was much more important.

“Really, Mama,” I said emphatically, sitting down at the kitchen table and resting my face on my hands, “Miriam already has two best friends.”

“Elka, you have so many friends already,” Mama replied, plunking a basket of tomatoes and a bowl of water down in front of me. “Here. Can you wash these?”

I reached for the basket. “Jamal came around today?” It wasn’t really a question. When there were tomatoes, Jamal was here. Sure, there was the market, and we could buy lots of things there, but there were also a lot of Arab men who came around with all the fresh stuff. Tomatoes. Cucumbers. There was even an Arab man who walked around with his goats, and he would milk a little brown one right into Mama’s bucket every day.

Mama nodded. “Thank you.”

“But Mama,” I continued, my hands rinsing off the dirt on a tomato, “I don’t have a best friend. I’m just friends with everyone.”