The room seemed to be holding its breath as the captains of each team were announced. Then the teams broke up to plan. Tzippi Deutsch, another 12th-grader, was to head Tamar’s yellow team.

“Okay, everyone,” she said to the group of girls crowding around to hear what was expected of them, “by tomorrow everything has to be prepared. We all need to get back to class in a few minutes, so this is what we’re going to do. Tonight we’re gonna work through the night to get everything done. Banner, badges — basically anything artistic or crafty is going to happen at the Schwartz home, and songs, dances, that kind of thing, is going to be going on at Sarah Reinman’s house. Anyone who needs the address, there’ll be a sign on the door of the school building when you leave. And now everyone — get to class. We lose points for coming late, you know!”

Rifky, Tamar, and Atara, who was also on the yellow team, walked slowly back up the steps to their classroom.

“I can’t believe they’re doing color war two weeks before midterms!” Atara complained.

“Why?” Tamar asked, jokingly. “Were you planning on studying already?”

“Not yet,” Atara replied, “but this kills the whole week. I’ll be too tired to study anything on Shabbos. And next Shabbos is already right before the Chumash midterm!”

“Don’t worry so much, Atara,” Rifky said, trying to calm her down. “It’s only Monday. By Shabbos you won’t be too tired to study anymore.”

“That’s easy for you to say, genius,” Atara kidded. “Where do you plan on going tonight? Schwartz or Reinman?”

“Um, probably Shaindy Schwartz’s house. Anyone can cut out construction paper badges, can’t they?”

“I’ll probably go to Sarah Reinman’s house. I’d love to help them make up the theme song. What about you, Tamar?” Atara asked, turning to Tamar as they crossed the threshold into their classroom.

“I — does everyone go to these things?”

“In 11th grade? Totally,” Rifky replied. “Usually some ninth- and tenth-graders show up, too, but the majority of girls working on color war are 11th-and 12th-graders. It’s finally our turn,” she said excitedly. “You have to come! Come with me to the Schwartzes’, it’ll be fun.”

“I guess,” Tamar shrugged.

But when she was sitting in her seat, mulling over the conversation, she wasn’t so sure anymore. She really did want to go. Helping with the banner was so her speed. But was she even allowed to stay overnight at someone else’s house?

Her heart contorted in her chest as she tried to figure it out. As far as she knew, she could only sleep in the house of a legal foster parent, and somehow she doubted Shaindy Schwartz’s parents qualified. Or didn’t Yael tell her something about getting permission from her parents before going somewhere? Tamar snorted. As far as she knew, her mother was in no state to give permission for anything. And her father? Well… if they found him, that would solve a lot of other problems, too, wouldn’t it?

She could ask the Weisses, Tamar thought, standing up for Rabbi Goldberg who had just walked into the classroom. Maybe she would be allowed to go. But something in Tamar protested. Ask the Weisses? She had to ask the Weisses for everything! To go to a friend, to come home a little late, to get a job — the next thing she knew she’d need to ask the Weisses for permission to breathe! Forget it! She just wouldn’t go. Who needs color war anyway?

At the end of the day, Tamar left the school building without even glancing at the addresses taped to the door. She wasn’t going, and really, she didn’t even care.

“So, aren’t you going to work on color war?” Devorah asked Tamar, looking up from her homework as Tamar slid into her seat at the table with the plate of sesame chicken and rice that Mrs. Weiss had left for her.

“Nope,” Tamar shrugged, and speared a small piece of chicken with her fork. “Aren’t you?”

Devorah shook her head. “No,” she said, as though the answer were obvious, “ninth-graders never go. Well, unless they’re super talented or they have an older sister to go with.”

“Well, don’t think we’re going together, because I’m not going,” Tamar stated firmly.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on going with you anyway.” Devorah rolled her eyes. “We’re not even on the same team.”

“Oh?” Tamar tried to convince herself to relax. Devorah was probably just trying to make friendly conversation. “What team are you on?”

“Green,” Devorah replied. “You’re on yellow, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“I saw you at the yellow table.”

“Oh.” Tamar nodded, then put the fork-full of rice she was holding into her mouth. She swallowed, then asked, “How does color work in your school?”

Devorah launched into a full explanation, most of which she had heard from her friends who had older sisters in the school. After a blow-by-blow account that left Tamar yawning, Tamar excused herself to go to her room and get some work done.

When she was finally finished with the catching up she had wanted to do for the night, Tamar went to sleep dreaming of houses full of girls and noise and banners and paint.

The next morning Tamar entered her classroom to be greeted by a bunch of blank stares and a frantic Tzippi Deutsch.

“Isn’t there anyone artistic here who can help out with the banner?” she was pleading, looking from one exhausted face to another. “Anyone?”

“Ask Tamar,” Miri called across to Tzippi, noticing Tamar entering the classroom, “She’s on the yellow team and she’s really good.”

“Who’s Tamar?” Tzippi asked, looking around the classroom.

Miri pointed in Tamar’s direction.

“You?” Tzippi rounded on Tamar who was still standing in the doorway.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Could you please help us with the banner? We really need to finish it and banner presentation is at ten!”

“Okay,” Tamar agreed. “Let me just put my stuff down.”

“Thanks soooo much,” Tzippi oozed. “Meet us in the resource room. You’re seriously saving our team!”

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 859)