Devoiry leaned forward eagerly. “Eventually, I’d also like to design clothing”

“That sounds nice,” Chava said, trying to match Devoiry’s enthusiasm. “Maybe you should take a course. I bet there are fashion design courses out there for frum women.”

“Sure there are,” Devoiry said. “Good idea,” she added noncommittally, as she looked at Avi once more. She took a breath. “The thing is, this is all going to cost a lot of money.”

Shloimy frowned, and suddenly Chava knew why they were being wined and dined tonight. It wasn’t to get her advice on how to train as a fashion designer.

“Avi’s been researching loans, because we’re definitely going to need to borrow a lot of cash for this. The bank, of course, offers small business loans, but you need a good credit rating for that…” She made a face. “Avi has a friend who knows someone who lends high amounts even to people who don’t have good credit.”

“How much are you talking?” Shloimy asked.

“We haven’t calculated it exactly yet, but it’ll be between 100,000 to 200,000 shekel,” Avi said.

Chava’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of debt to take on.”

Devoiry immediately bristled. “That’s what businesses do. You have to be willing to take risks if you want to make real profit.”

“We’ve crunched the numbers,” Avi added, in a more measured voice. “We think our business can start becoming profitable within two years.”

Chava quickly backed down. “Sounds like you’ve really done your homework.”

Devoiry was twisting her napkin around her finger. “So, the thing is, this lender guy needs a guarantor. And, um, we were wondering if the two of you…”

Chava swallowed. So that was it. She looked at Shloimy, willing him to react.

He cleared his throat. “Honey, we don’t have that kind of money.”

Devoiry’s laugh was unnaturally high. “Oh, we don’t expect you to have to actually pay it back! Chas v’shalom. This is our responsibility. It’s just a — whaddayacallit? — a legal formality.”

“Mm-hm.” Shloimy looked at Chava. “Well, Mommy and I certainly want to help you. We’ll think this over and let you know.”

“Oh!” For a moment, Devoiry looked disappointed. What had she thought, that they’d agree on the spot to back her up for hundreds of thousands of shekels?

She quickly recovered. “Thanks so much, Tatty. I really, really appreciate it.”

ZeeZee leaned back against the wall of the activity room, relishing the scene in front of her. Dafna had really come through; she’d arrived at eight this evening, lugging a bag of paintbrushes and tubes of henna paste — and wearing a very Bais Yaakov-y sweater and skirt to boot.

When ZeeZee had complimented her on her clothing, Ilana, who’d come as well, had smirked and said, “Told you she was nervous about us.”

Now, watching Dafna confidently show a group of eager girls how to apply the henna paste, ZeeZee grinned to herself. No one would ever guess that Dafna had googled a “how to do henna painting” video yesterday.

Tehilla came over to her. “She’s amazing! Where’d you find her?”

ZeeZee wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, in an ancient cave somewhere deep in the Judean Hills.”

Tehilla stared at her uncertainly, but ZeeZee smiled mysteriously and didn’t say more.

She spotted Ilana and Shani, huddled together in a corner, and with an intense desire to know what they were discussing, she said to Tehilla, “Sorry, I gotta go talk to someone.”

She’d introduced Ilana to Shani earlier this evening. Now, she was startled to realize that the two had been chatting for a good half hour at least. She had to get really close to hear their conversation in this noisy room. Walking up softly behind them, she heard Ilana saying, “I hate it. I hate feeling this compulsion to not let myself eat. I mean, who wants to starve themselves?”

Shani looked up at her, open-mouthed. “So why do you do it, then?”

“Because there’s this voice inside that makes me. You know?”

Shani was silent for a moment. And then, slowly, she nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

“ZeeZee! We need you!”

ZeeZee could’ve killed Rusi for coming over just at that moment. Shani and Ilana looked up, and ZeeZee, blushing, was forced to cough and say something totally nerdy about the henna painting.

Worse, Rusi said, “Shani, you, too. The madrichah just came in, and she’s not happy about this painting thing. I think we better all go over and promise we’re gonna clean up every speck of paint.”

Shani jumped up, looking scared, and ZeeZee groaned to herself.

“Way to mess things up, Rusi,” she muttered.

Rusi put her hands on her hips. “I messed things up? This painting business was your idea!”

“Forget it,” ZeeZee sighed. “I’ll go speak to Tziri.”

As she walked off, she motioned for Ilana to come with her. “You are, like, literally a magician,” she said, when they were out of earshot of the others. “How’d you get Shani to open up?”

Ilana shrugged but looked pleased. “We were talking about school and stuff. I was telling her how hard it’s been for me, moving to a new country as a teen. And then she told me about her own stuff.”

ZeeZee eyed her. “So, what do you think? Does she have a real problem or no?”

Ilana’s face suddenly turned serious. “Um, yeah. Like, yeah.” She stopped and looked up at ZeeZee. “My advice? Someone should call her mother and get this girl help before it’s too late.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 745)