I start toward the door, then stop. What for, seriously, what for? To be placed in dance with girls like this? To spend the next month or so feeling awkward and friendless again?

I turn to the girls behind me. “You can go first,” I say, and witness a panicked second where they calculate if one of them should brave the lion’s den without the other for moral support. I don’t stick around to see what they decide.

Instead I head straight for the exit. If I’m going to spend the afternoon doing nothing, let me do it in Raizy’s airy bedroom, with shelves full of books and a beanbag and ahh, total privacy.

Maybe I can call Ima early, talk to her without anyone walking in on us. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

And if Aunt Chana wonders why I’m home… well, let her wonder.

“Ima!”

I settle on the beanbag, kick off my shoes. They roll under Raizy’s bed and I make a mental note to pick them up later. Wouldn’t want to go digging under there with her around.

“Hi, hon, it’s so good to hear your voice. Finally. What’s doing?”

I think of Bubby, Raizy, Tammy, tryouts.

“Nothing much,” I say.

“Ah.” Ima waits a moment. “You’re home early, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Finished early today.”

I stop again. I want to tell her everything, but also I just can’t. And suddenly I’m angry; why am I so far away? Why does it have to be this way? Why, why, why?

“What about with you?” I ask, inelegantly changing the subject. “Anything happening?”

Part of me is hoping she’ll bring up the political unrest thingy of her own accord, but she just launches into some story about new guests, Israeli soldiers who just finished their army service.

“Lots of Israelis recently,” she says, then sighs. “Some of the regulars have gone, though. Left India.”

“Really?”

“They’re… worried about what’s going on. There’s been some demonstrations and stuff. I guess they just didn’t like the atmosphere.”

I jump on that. “Demonstrations? What? Why? Is it safe?”

“Don’t worry, Shir,” Ima says. She sounds regretful. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s really fine.”

“But I heard already, Ima. Chana told me what’s on the news. It sounds really scary.”

“Everything sounds scarier from afar,” Ima says. Her voice is very calm, the way she talks to my little siblings when they wake up from a nightmare. “It’s just… there’s some group, a political party really, but not people that anyone sane wants in power in a country. They’re protesting some laws, they want to make changes. They’re popular in certain regions, but not here in the city. Just every so often there’s a rally or something. Abba knows about them, we’re in touch with the police. We just make sure not to go out into the middle of one of their rallies, know what I mean?”

It sounds pretty scary to me.

“What will they do, though? What could happen?”

Ima sighs again. “Hopefully, nothing. Protest a little, get it outof their system, let it fizzle out. These things happen, these people need a cause, need to pretend they have a plan, some power.”

I wait, but Ima’s done. “Aaaand if not? Could it become, like, a war?”

“I really don’t think so, Ashira. Like I said, they’re comparatively very few people, and they don’t have much hold in the big cities.”

She changes the subject — something about Ayelet cutting a new tooth, seriously, like that will make me forget — and I pretend to go along with it.

But I’m not fooled.

Deep down, I know Ima is worried, too.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 963)