So much for that, Tamar thought, her bag banging against her thigh as she walked home. But the flicker inside her seemed to be getting stronger. She needed a job. Money to buy a doughnut when everyone else was going, money to get a new Shabbos outfit — from what Devorah had said, she clearly needed at least one new outfit. Maybe even her own cellphone so she wasn’t dependent on the Weiss landline. Come to think of it, she was probably the only kid in 11th grade without a phone. It had never bothered her before, but now, the more she thought about it the more it burned within her. She needed a job. Maybe not at CVS — but there were bound to be other places looking to hire. An office, perhaps, or she could try a different store. Somewhere she could work after school for an hour or two.

Tamar turned the knob and walked into the Weisses’ house.

The house was unusually quiet for — Tamar checked her watch — 6:15. “Hello?” she called into the semi-darkness. There was a light on in the hallway upstairs. And she had noticed that some of the upstairs bedrooms were lit up from the outside. They must all be upstairs, she concluded. A gentle wave of loneliness lapped inside her. “Hello,” she called out again. Maybe someone would hear her and come down. Ask about her day. Wonder why she had come home from school 45 minutes late. But no one did.

Go downstairs to her room? Alone? Her mind flicked the idea away. There must be someone who cared to talk to her. And besides, if she went straight downstairs, Mrs. Weiss wouldn’t know that she had come home.

The staircase seemed long and impossibly high. She hadn’t really gone upstairs without being invited before. “Anyone home?” she called out in a last attempt to get the attention of the family upstairs. But no one answered.

Haltingly, Tamar climbed the staircase, her footsteps muffled by the thick beige carpet. The light was on in Devorah’s room, and she could hear noise behind the door of the boys’ room. Tamar opened her mouth to call out again. But the voice coming from behind the semi-closed door to Devorah’s room stopped her from uttering a sound.

“I know,” she could hear Devorah say, “but she’s just so annoying.”

Who was Devorah talking about?

“It’s not that she does anything. It’s just… I don’t know… she’s just always here. Acting weird. Taking up my personal space.” Devorah fell silent, listening to someone on the other end of what Tamar assumed was a phone call.

She’s talking about me, Tamar concluded, that punched-in-the-gut feeling winding her. You’re the weirdo. She didn’t want to hear anymore, but her feet seemed glued to the carpet.

It took all her strength to tear herself away from the conversation. Forcing her feet to move, Tamar turned around and made her way back downstairs.

It doesn’t matter what she thinks. You’re leaving as soon as they find a place that’ll take three kids. Tamar jerked her mind away from the conversation she’d just heard the way you would rip a Band-Aid off a wound. Focus, Tamar. What were you thinking about before you overheard Devorah? Oh, right. A job. She needed to find somewhere to work.

Since upstairs was sort of off-limits, Tamar steered herself to the basement door and wrenched it open, stumbling backward when Mrs. Weiss walked through holding a laundry basket piled high with laundry.

“Tamar!” Mrs. Weiss said, surprise evident in her voice. “Thanks for opening the door.”

“I, uh…”

“No, no,” Mrs. Weiss hurriedly added, smiling. “I know you didn’t know I was on the other side. But thanks just the same.”

“No problem,” Tamar said, turning to go down the stairs.

“Oh, and,” Mrs. Weiss continued, putting the heavy laundry basket down on the floor.

Tamar made an about-face and let the basement door swing shut behind her. She looked at Mrs. Weiss expectantly.

“I was just wondering where you were during supper tonight? We missed you, by the way.”

“Maybe you did, but Devorah sure didn’t,” Tamar muttered under her breath.

“What was that?” Mrs. Weiss asked. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“Nothing.” Tamar shook her head. “I was…” Her voice trailed off. Should she tell Mrs. Weiss about her decision to get a job? What would she do if Mrs. Weiss didn’t let? Then again, she’d never be able to get a job without the Weisses’ permission anyway. As her legal guardians, she’d need their approval. “I was looking for a job,” Tamar finished. She looked at Mrs. Weiss, trying to conceal her nerves. Would she let?

“Tamar, that’s a great idea!”

(Originally featured in Teen Pages, Issue 845)