What should I say? That I’m jealous of my best friend’s remedial tutoring? Please

I try not to wince as Atara gathers her books, slings her new Marc Jacobs bag over her shoulder, and heads to the door, but it’s painful to watch her leave to her remedial dikduk class. Not to mention the red tinge on her prominent cheekbones. The poor girl is mortified and for good reason. Remedial isn’t the stigma it used to be, obviously the world is way more advanced now, but it’s still not, well, cool.

Not that regular dikduk class is a thrill or anything. It’s blah city, and Morah Abrams is the mayor. She’s been teaching dikduk in Bais Yaakov since my mother’s days, and it shows. I try not to fall asleep, purely out of respect, but it’s a hard task. Time seems to be moving backward and my eyes start to tear up from excessive yawning.

When the bell rings, I stand up and stretch until I hear my shoulders click. Ahhh, nothing like a good stretch. The smile drops off my face as I hear Shayna’s voice in my head: “Ladies, we stretch in the beginning, middle, and end of dance class.”

Uch.

I turn to exit the classroom when Atara suddenly materializes in my line of vision.

“Boo!”

“Haha. How’d it go?” I ask, lowering my voice.

I blink then, because Atara looks… happy.

“Ah-mazing,” she breathes. “Ms. Silverman is incredible. Legit, I can talk to her all day. It’s three of us, me, Shevy Perlman and Henny Feld. And Ms. Silverman just literally opened up the conversation into all these real topics and suddenly, class was over. The time just flew!”

I think back to the time warp Morah Abrams’s class was and I blink again. “That sounds incredible,” I say just a tad too enthusiastically.

Atara looks concerned at the unusual amount of peppiness in my voice. “Are you okay?”

I roll my eyes. “Totes, just exhausted.” Which is true. Besides, what should I say? That I’m jealous of my best friend’s remedial tutoring? Please.