***

The girls’ voices rose above each other like hundreds of arrows in the wind.

“I can’t believe she just quit school! Doesn’t she even care about shidduchim?”

“She didn’t quit. She just went out to work. Some people need money, ya know.”

“Yeah, but to drop out of school is just not normal. I’m telling you, Malky has issues…”

Shiri was sinking so low in her seat she wondered what it would feel like to melt into a puddle.

“Issues? Come on, Raizy, how would you know?”

“Well, I spoke to Faiga Sury,” Raizy said in a self-confident voice. “And Malky’s her niece.” Raizy emphasized the “c” of niece, making sure that no one missed the significance.

The arrows sped through the room so ferociously fast that it was making Shiri dizzy. She was being sucked into a violent whirl of accusations and judgments and plain old-fashioned lashon hara. She wanted to close her eyes and ears to it all. She wanted to block out all of the tension and friction and just disappear into nothingness.

But before she had a chance to do that, Mrs. Rosenberg entered the classroom like a welcome breeze. Shiri embraced the ensuing silence with all her might. Mrs. Rosenberg took attendance in her pleasant voice, and Shiri felt at peace. She liked Mrs. Rosenberg a lot.

“Before we move on to the next chapter in history,” Mrs. Rosenberg began, “let’s take a quick pop quiz to see how much you remember.”

All around her, girls groaned. “At least Malky doesn’t have to do this anymore,” Adina whispered. Several girls giggled.

Mrs. Rosenberg twirled around from the board where she had begun writing out the questions. Her face hardened a bit. “I expect you to do this silently,” she said in a low but stern voice.

Shiri began answering the first question when the wind coming in from the open window blew her paper off her desk. She reached down to retrieve it, but Leah behind her beat her to it.

“Hey, thanks,” Shiri whispered. “Told you it’s freezing here!”

Leah raised an eyebrow as she slowly, dramatically, released her grip on Shiri’s paper.

“If the wind can blow my paper off the desk, then I’m entitled to wear a sweater,” Shiri whispered as a way of an explanation before grabbing her paper and turning back around.

“Shiri, have I not made myself clear?” Mrs. Rosenberg said in a tone of voice she hardly used.

Shiri felt her heart drop to her toes. She swallowed, nodded, and turned back to her paper.

Leah kicked her back, and Shiri could hear her chortle. Shiri ignored her. She stared at her blurred quiz and wondered if there was something severely wrong with her. So her teacher scolded her — big deal. She was in 12th grade. Why was she feeling insulted, like a little baby? Why was it that Leah was able to laugh while Shiri felt an ugly pit in her stomach that made her want to burst into a million tears? She knew she shouldn’t take it so personally. But… she had upset Mrs. Rosenberg! Mrs. Rosenberg whom she so much wanted to please. Shiri swallowed an angry lump and attacked her quiz with all her might.

As soon as Mrs. Rosenberg finished collecting the girls’ quizzes, she launched into a lesson about the Cold War and the nuclear arms race between America and the Soviet Union, how they each competed for the most advanced missiles.

Raizy’s hand shot up. “Is it true that today they can come up with a missile that can wipe out the entire world?” she asked in her loud, excited voice.

“I don’t know about the entire world,” Mrs. Rosenberg said, “but they’re definitely becoming more and more advanced with nuclear weapons.”

Zahava raised her hand. “I heard that the war before Mashiach will only take seven seconds, because that’s how fast it’ll take for the bombs to reach the entire world.”

The girls dove into a noisy discussion. Shiri liked class discussions, but this time all she heard was bombs. She felt her body grow weak. She wanted Mashiach to come already, but she didn’t want to die in a bombing first! But if a missile were to be sent out to the entire world, why would she be exempt? She’d die just like all the other human beings in the world. Humans were so fragile and vulnerable. Why should she be different? Why should she be safe from the bomb?

The girls continued their discussion. They actually seemed to be enjoying themselves! They debated back and forth, while bombs continued exploding over Shiri’s head. She felt so dizzy again, she needed to rest her head on her desk.

“Shiri, are you okay?” Mrs. Rosenberg asked.

A fresh set of bombs exploded in her chest. “I’m fine,” she said in a near-whisper.

“Good,” Mrs. Rosenberg replied, but right after that she ended the discussion.

Shiri didn’t listen to the rest of the lesson. She was so embarrassed. She hoped her classmates weren’t as perceptive as Mrs. Rosenberg. What was wrong with her? Everybody else had had a fine time, while she couldn’t even keep her head in a position that wouldn’t alarm her teacher. She was seriously such a baby. Why couldn’t she handle a little bit of fear? Why couldn’t she handle life?

Just as the period came to an end, Mrs. Eisen, the principal, entered the classroom. “Girls, it’s time to get started on your yearbook writings,” she said. “I have with me the photos you’ll be writing about. Please start brainstorming now so you’ll be ready on Thursday when the yearbook editor comes.” She walked up and down the rows distributing photos to the girls.

Shiri glanced at the three photos Mrs. Eisen had given her to choose from. The first one showed several children running off a school bus, knapsacks bouncing on their backs. The second one was an image of a calm waterfall flowing down a hill. And the third… tears sprang to her eyes… a little girl lay in a hospital bed, different types of machines and tubes attached to her fragile body. Her eyes were open, and they looked so very sad and lonely. There was something else in them: fear. It was crying out in the cold and dingy room. Was her life in danger? Did she think she was going to die? She was only a child. Children shouldn’t worry about things like that, Shiri thought, as more tears slid down her cheeks. Nobody should have to experience such pain!

Shiri suddenly felt anger rise in her chest, and she shoved the photo under her desk. She was angry at herself. Why couldn’t she concentrate on a simple class assignment without getting riled up with emotions?

The bell rang, and Mrs. Eisen dismissed the girls. Shiri darted out the door for all she was worth. She really was angry. This had been too much. Why did she have to be born with such ridiculous emotions? What was the point of them? What good could she accomplish in her life this way? Why couldn’t she be like her dynamic, energetic sister who always knew how to get things done without letting anything stand in her way? Miriam sure was one lucky girl. Who wanted to be like Shiri and trudge through life hauling around an endless sack of emotions? Not she!

Shiri was so absorbed in her woes that she didn’t notice the commotion in front of the school building until she nearly tripped over a girl. There were lots of girls standing and watching as the principal, secretary, and two teachers tried to pacify a first grader who was sitting on the floor and crying hysterically, refusing to get onto the bus.

“I know you want to go home to your mother,” the principal was saying in a firm voice, “but she’s not home now, so you must go on a different bus to your aunt’s house.”

“Don’t worry, Pessi,” one of the teachers continued, “I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun in your aunt’s house!”

“You know, Pessi is such a big girl,” the other teacher tried. But Pessi continued to holler and kick her legs as she cried, “I want to go home to my mother! I don’t want to go on the blue bus! I want to go on the green bus to my mother!”

Shiri’s heart constricted. She felt so sorry for this poor little girl who was so confused about having to get onto a different bus and just wanted her mommy! Shiri found herself walking over to her and crouching down next to her on the floor.

“Pessi, are you afraid to get onto the blue bus and go to a different house?” she asked gently as she stoked Pessi’s tearstained cheek.

“Yeah!” Pessi cried. “I wanna go to my mother!”

“I know,” Shiri whispered. “Sometimes when I get home from school, there’s nobody home, and I also really want my mother to be there.”

“Really?” Pessi asked.

Shiri nodded. “I know it’s really scary. But then when my mother comes home, I’m so happy! And soon your mother will come home too!”

Pessi was quiet.

“Would you like me to take you onto the bus and help you find a good seat?” Shiri asked.

Pessi nodded, and Shiri took her hand and walked with her onto the bus.

When she emerged two minutes later, Pessi’s teacher grabbed her by the shoulders. “How did you do that?” she asked incredulously.

“What? I don’t know, I just…” Shiri didn’t know what to answer. She had merely felt the little girl’s pain and spoke to her.

“Well, you did what none of us could do,” the secretary said. She slapped Shiri on her arm. “You’ve got some kind of power, kiddo.”

Shiri smiled, shrugged, and walked away. She continued walking very slowly, as her mind was on full speed. You did what none us could do. You’ve got some kind of power. She swallowed. Could it be that her power lay in the very same trait she so despised? Was it her extreme sensitivity that had allowed her to understand what Pessi was feeling?

She stopped walking as a sense of joy filled her heart. Perhaps it wasn’t completely pointless to have an overload of emotions. She thought about her sister Miriam and how she accomplished so much with her energetic personality. Perhaps Shiri possessed a different type of gift that allowed her to accomplish just as much, only through a different medium. She thought about her many other talents and wondered if they all stemmed from that same place.

Just then, two birds flew over her head, a pigeon and a sparrow.

Hashem created the world with lots of different people, and that’s what makes it so colorful.

Shiri resumed walking with a bounce in her step as she anticipated all of the wonderful things she would do with her special trait.

(Originally featured in Teen Pages, Issue 734)