She perches on her bed and looks at me. “Bella Rena…Naftoli has, uh, been asked to leave yeshivah for a little while”
Mommy appears. “Come in, come in quickly,” she whispers, flapping her hand. We scurry in, confused by the cloak-and-dagger attitude
He turns around and gives me a look, the kind of look that says, “please don’t be a terribly selfish human being.”
I need to rush home, do homework, go out for Chinese with Goldie, a long-standing Monday night tradition, and — sigh — apologize to Ma about not listening to her explain what happened to Babby
The thing about being the only girl in the family is that I can get away with anything, short of murder, and everyone just chalks it up to me “being a girl”
I smirk. “Pori, why do you always comment? Just try to accept me, flaws and all, and you’ll have a lot less stress in your life”
