They squeezed through the aisles to their seats. Two of Miriam’s cousins were already sitting in the adjacent seats. “Hi!” Bassi said. “Thanks for getting us such great seats!”

“I’m so excited,” Raizy added. “So, are you proud of your younger sister?” she asked, looking at Miriam.

“Of course,” Miriam said as she sat down. She really was proud of Dina. But why could she never be proud of herself too?

More cousins and neighbors and friends piled into the auditorium. They all made sure to check in on Miriam’s proudness of her sister. They threw in a quip or funny line. Miriam laughed awkwardly. She wished she could quip back, but just like everything else about her, she was dull and boring and couldn’t think of anything witty to say.

The curtains drew open. Music filled the auditorium and eight graceful dancers flitted onto the stage. Miriam watched their effortless movements. She wished she could dance with such poise and confidence. Then they all moved aside to allow the solo dancer — Dina — onto the stage.

Dina was so talented that Miriam just had to beam, fully enjoying the moment and forgetting her own misery. When Dina stepped forward at the finale, Miriam clapped with all her might. If she didn’t have any talent of her own, she could at least rejoice in her sister’s good fortune. She kept her smile on until they all met up after the finale. “You were awesome!” she told Dina genuinely.

“Such talent,” Blonde Wig interjected. “It’s so wonderful when people have a passion they can pursue.” She looked at Miriam good-heartedly. “What’s yours?”

Miriam’s smile dropped like a carton of rocks. “Um, you know, I have a few….” Her cheeks were flaming.

“Bli ayin hara,” Blonde Wig carried on, completely oblivious to the discomfort she had caused Miriam. “Such clever daughters you have, Mrs. Kessler.”

Very clever, for saying she had a few talents. What was she supposed to answer? That she had absolutely none? And no, she did not consider “good with children” a talent, nor being proficient at taking notes.

Miriam zipped her coat and hurried ahead of the group and out of the auditorium as fast as she could. She made a mental note never to talk to Blonde Wig again.

Mrs. Bochner’s heels clanked against the floor as she walked up and down the rows of desks. She paused every now and then to admire a student’s work. “Ah, just look at these detailed photos. They say so much that the written word can’t.” She was making them write a photo essay, and her clanking about was getting Miriam nervous.

As if reading her thoughts, Mrs. Bochner stopped in front of Miriam’s desk. Miriam stiffened. “Now that’s what we’re talking about!” Mrs. Bochner gushed. “One face. One face that speaks volumes. Excellent shot!”

It’s not like I’m the one who made that face, or took the photo. So what exactly are we gushing about? Why couldn’t she ever create something remarkable that was her own? She mumbled an incoherent thanks and let herself relax as her teacher stepped away.

Penina caught her eye and flashed her a sunny grin. Miriam smiled back wanly. Penina. What did she know? Miriam would bet that she had taken all her photos herself. Penina had every talent under the sun. She also happened to be the most popular girl in the grade. In fact, she reminded Miriam a lot of Dina. Well, people weren’t created equal, were they. Some people sailed by and others struggled every step of the way. Miriam fit the latter group and there was nothing she could do about it.

The girls sighed with relief. The last one of them had handed in her midterm, and now they could relax. The girl in front of Miriam threw her papers up. “I’m not looking at another loose-leaf paper until next week Monday!” she exclaimed. Miriam was looking forward to midwinter vacation, too. All the sleepless nights and endless studying had taken their toll on her, and she was eager to spend the next few days relaxing, even if her family wouldn’t be going anywhere. She stretched as she got up from her desk and followed the rest of her classmates out the door. That’s when she stopped. Her good mood vanished like a puff of smoke. All the girls were gathered in front of the bulletin board.

Production parts.

Why couldn’t they wait until after midwinter vacation? Couldn’t a girl be allowed a few days of peace? Couldn’t she enjoy her vacation without the knowledge of how untalented she was?

Now why was everyone staring at her? People never stared at her. Had she said anything aloud? She wasn’t imagining it –– everyone was murmuring about her. Miriam strode right over to the bulletin board. There it was. The two top names on the cast list.

Penina Silverman

Miriam Kessler

Everywhere, girls were exchanging confused looks. Miriam did not share their confusion. Her name had been mixed up with her sister’s. The real name on the list should have been Dina Kessler. It was as simple as that. A second look at all the faces around her told her they had already come to that conclusion as well.

Miriam felt a stifling heat. No, she felt like she was choking. Suddenly, every muscle in her body told her to run, to get out of there as fast as possible.

She sped down the hall, down the stairway, and out of the building. She continued running down the block, her brain shouting at her to keep going without ever looking back. She ran all the way home, ignoring her neighbors’ curious stares. She opened the front door, sped up the stairs to the room she shared with Dina, and closed the door behind her. There she allowed herself to sob with every fiber in her body. Old feelings of shame and inadequacy poured out of her wounded heart. It was all just so unfair! She was the older sister, and she spent her entire life (except the first two years of it, which she couldn’t remember) in the shadow of her younger sister. Who didn’t love Dina? Dina was charismatic and talented and pretty and managed to captivate just about anyone she spoke to. And Miriam? She was plain and talentless and had nothing to contribute to the world. The only time people had turned their eyes on her was over a mix-up with her perfect sister, over something that didn’t even belong to her.

A knock on the door.

Miriam didn’t respond.

“Can I come in?” she heard her mother’s voice from behind the closed door.

Miriam muttered something groggy and incoherent, and her mother took it as a sign that she could enter. Her mother walked in and sat down on the bed. She placed her hand on her daughter and just sat there until Miriam had exhausted all her tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she said at last, in a soft whisper. “Dina called and told me what happened.”

“Why?” Miriam gasped. “Why did you have two daughters who are so unequal? How is it possible we both come from the same mother?” Her tears returned. “It’s so unfair!”

Her mother was quiet for a few seconds. “All I can say is that it means nothing to me,” she said calmly. “Some babies are colicky; others sleep through the night when they’re just a few weeks old. Some children are early walkers, others are early talkers, or readers. Some children excel in school, but they have trouble helping out at home. Other children are wonderful in the house but have trouble in school. Some children are shy, others are talkative. The point is, it doesn’t make one person more special than the other. You and Dina, I love you both so much. And you are my eldest — I can’t describe the love I feel for you.” Her mother paused and stroked her daughter’s cheek, as if Miriam was a baby. “Just because somebody has more outside talent to show the world,” she continued, “doesn’t mean they’re more special. Take Har Sinai, the smallest of all the mountains, where Hashem chose to give His Torah. The mountain that was least grand was the one that was the most beloved to Hashem.”

Miriam swiped her eyes. “Thanks, Ma. That’s really nice, but at the end of the day, I want to see myself doing something worthwhile in This World!” The platitudes were helpful, but she was still plain, boring Miriam.

“It’s interesting,” her mother continued, “but statistics show that average people are the ones who are often most successful later in life, even more so than naturally gifted people. Gifted people are sometimes afraid of failure, whereas the ones who have nothing to lose are more motivated to try. That’s not to say that gifted people can’t be successful, but it shows that just because you haven’t found your niche yet doesn’t mean you never will.”

Her mother looked suddenly serious. “And the main thing, Miriam, is how you see yourself. What other people think of you is often a reflection of what you think about yourself. If you can love yourself despite lacking talent, other people won’t think it’s important either. If you can be happy with the way Hashem created you, other people will automatically think you’re wonderful, because you are.” Her mother planted a kiss on her forehead and left the room.

Miriam stared after her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a talk like this with her mother. She stood up from her bed and looked at herself in the dresser mirror. Was it true? Could she really learn to love herself? Could she learn to be okay with herself despite her ordinariness? She wasn’t sure if she could, but she could definitely try.

After all, she had nothing to lose.

(Originally featured in Teen Pages, Issue 898)