Naftoli’s eyes are hard, he looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him, and I’m kind of scared to move

Being out of school isn’t as fun as one would think. Firstly, there’s the boredom. Sleeping all day kind of loses its appeal after the first 48 hours, and besides, my house is noisy.

I also haven’t been this inactive since I was two. Literally. Started ballet at three and haven’t stopped moving until, well, now. So I think I’m excused for going a bit stir- crazy.

“But it’s only been three days,” Naftoli points out helpfully. I make a face at him; he returns it with gusto.

“How do you do it?” I ask. Okay, it’s a low blow, but he’s really not being helpful.

He’s quiet for a minute then clears his throat. “I guess I make myself a routine. You know, get up at a certain hour, dress, daven, learn, lunch, and so on. Plus… I remind myself that it’s only temporary.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but it’s been a month. Like, maybe it’s time to take action?”

Naftoli puts his mug of hot chocolate down hard; it sloshes over the side and begins to run over the table edge in little brown rivulets.

I make no move to clean it up; Naftoli’s eyes are hard, he looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him, and I’m kind of scared to move.

“And do what, Bella? Tell the hanhalah who the real cheater is? Lose a friend and my integrity in one? Or lie, and say that it was really me, that I really am a cheater, just so I can apologize and return to yeshivah? What exactly are my options? Because I lay awake almost every night trying to figure them out and that’s all I’ve got.”

Poor guy. I honestly hadn’t given much thought to how he’s been perceiving all this; I’ve been so busy being angry at his yeshivah for suspending him.

“You’re right,” I say, trying to soften my voice. “You’re in a terrible position. I’m... I’m really sorry, Tuls.”

He nods and picks up his mug again, knuckles white.

“But maybe…” I trail off hesitantly and stretch my foot out. Uch, this cast is itchy, it’s bulky, and I hate it.

He raises his eyebrows.

“Maybe you can try to talk to the boy? The one who cheated? Maybe get him to see your position? Maybe convince him to do the right thing?”

Naftoli just shakes his head.

Well, I tried. I smile weakly, grab my crutches, and hobble off to ask Ma what to do about the itching. I leave the puddle on the table; I’m done trying to clean up Naftoli’s messes. At least for today.