“Nu?” Smadar feels like she’s holding her breath. She knows what a big deal these things are for Margalit

Smadar looks at Margalit. “What should I write? The Jewish story? The history of the Jews?”

Margalit looks into her cousin’s eyes. “You say that like you think I’m weird. I’m telling you, I just saw the tiger and—”

“I bring an order from the merchants of Venice”

Yes, Margalit thought, Abuelita taught me about words and their power… Maybe that’s why I think more than I speak?

She couldn’t miss the disappointment in their voices, the mocking tone, the mean edge.

Her teacher’s criticism rang so true, it was an arrow piercing the center of the target