Mrs. Berman actually seemed pretty normal. Even if her school was out of town. Chaya wondered what the catch was. There had to be one, otherwise why would they consider her?

“Tell me a little about yourself, Chaya.”

“Uh…” Chaya glanced at her mother, sitting ramrod straight in the chair next to her. “Um… I’m thirteen…” What in the world was she supposed to say? I don’t want to come to your school? My mother made me come to this interview? I don’t understand why I can’t go where my friends are going? This whole thing was stupid. This school was stupid and this interview was stupid and she was never, in a million years, coming here for high school. “Um… I’m the oldest in my family.”

There were photos all over the wall near Mrs. Berman’s desk. Chaya noticed that none of the students in the photos were wearing uniforms. Didn’t this school have a uniform? Weird.

Mrs. Berman nodded encouragingly, but all she said was, “Um-hm?”

“I like to read,” she blurted out. Mommy shot her a warning look.

“That’s wonderful,” said Mrs. Berman. “I also love to read. Reading gives you the opportunity to learn and explore new places and ideas. I’m always interested in hearing my girls’ opinions on what they’ve read.”

Chaya stared.

“What else can you tell me about yourself?”

“Chaya is intelligent, responsible, and well-liked,” Mommy said into the silence. Her voice was strained.

Mrs. Berman smiled. “I see that,” she said. Chaya wondered if Mommy really thought that about her.

A week later Chaya received an acceptance letter from Machon Rivkah. She nodded when Mommy told her, then went back to her room. She was powerless before the adults.

***

Shuey buttonholed Chaya on a rare foray out of her room. “What do you do in there all the time?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Cry?”

“What?”

“Is that what you do all day in your room — cry?”

“What? No! Why would you think so?”

Shuey looked disbelieving. “Then what?”

“I read, okay?”

“You read in your room all day?” He repeated it in the same tone one would say, you eat broccoli all day? He looked disgusted. “Books are stupid,” he said.

“Whatever,” said Chaya curtly.

Shuey nodded knowingly. “I also hide when I cry,” he said.

***

DVDs were different than books.

Books were great because they got you out of your own head and into someone else’s. And for 300 pages, you had magic powers or you knew the secret or you had the talent and you got to be the hero. Books made you think — not about your own problems, of course. But they still made you think.

DVDs didn’t let you think.

Chaya resurfaced after several hours, dazed and groggy. Vaguely she recalled ignoring a summons to supper. She glanced at the clock. Wow, it was late.

She swung her feet over the side of the bed and tramped downstairs. Weird, it was quiet. Okay, so maybe the little kids were asleep. But where were Mommy and Daddy?

In the hall outside the kitchen she stopped. There were voices in there.

“… can’t believe it,” she heard Mommy say. Chaya tried to identify the tone. Was she angry? No, it didn’t sound like it.

“I knew this would happen eventually,” Daddy replied. He didn’t sound angry exactly… but not happy either. Kind of… bitter, maybe. The word pleased Chaya. Maybe all her reading was improving her vocabulary.

She couldn’t hear Mommy’s reply, but she caught one word: “Chaya.” Of course they were talking about her.

“Well, it’s over now,” she heard Daddy say.

“Do you want to tell her, or should I?” Mommy asked. Then she laughed.

Chaya couldn’t take it anymore. She burst into the kitchen. “What happened?” she demanded. She was shouting and didn’t know why.

Mommy whirled around. “Chaya! I didn’t hear you come in.”

They were grinning. Mommy was holding a piece of paper and she was smiling from ear to ear. Even Daddy was smiling.

“What?” Chaya demanded. She felt nervous and angry. “What happened? Tell me!”

Mommy waved the paper. Chaya could see a familiar logo. “You got in!” Mommy exulted. “Bais Yaakov! It just came!” She read from the page, “We are pleased to accept your daughter Chaya to Bais Yaakov for the coming school year.” There were tears in her eyes. “Look at this!” She tried to hand the letter to Chaya.

Chaya knocked her hand out of the way. The page fluttered to the floor. “I don’t care!” she exploded. “I’m not going to that stupid school! I’m not going to any school!” She turned and bolted from the room. The windows rattled as the front door slammed.

***

“You’re leaving this decision up to a thirteen-year-old?”

Mommy didn’t answer. She busied herself at the fleishig counter, opening and closing cabinets at random, moving things around. Daddy leaned back in his seat at the table, arms folded tightly across his chest, legs crossed, one foot tapping impatiently. The fluorescent light in the kitchen was harsh.

“How can a thirteen-year-old be trusted with this kind of decision?” Daddy demanded. “This is something that can affect her forever!”

“And if we force her to do something she doesn’t want to do?”

“But we have to decide! We know what’s best for her!”

“I know, but right now, she’s going to reject any decision we make. No matter what we choose, even if it’s what she wants, she’ll reject it.”

“That just proves my point! She doesn’t know what’s good for her!”

“But we need to get her on board. Wherever she goes next year, she has to want to be there. Otherwise…” Mommy bit her lip, struggling to contain the fear. “It will get… out of control.”

“Why do you keep saying ‘wherever she goes’? Isn’t it obvious where she’s going? You can’t possibly be considering Machon anymore.” He stared at her with hard eyes.

Mommy turned away. “Don’t you see? This isn’t the ideal situation anymore. Yeah, she should have gone to Bais Yaakov in the first place and she would have done well there. But with everything that’s happened, we could send her there, but she wouldn’t do well there anymore.”

Daddy stood up. “And what,” he said, “are we going to do when she ‘decides’ to go to Machon?”

“Look.” Mommy sounded strained. “Of course I would rather she go to Bais Yaakov.” Her voice trembled. “But what if the choice is between sending her to Bais Yaakov kicking and screaming, hurt and bitter and angry or sending her to Machon Rivkah feeling calm and welcomed and optimistic?”

Daddy looked disgusted. “She’s thirteen! When I was thirteen I did what I was told. I can just imagine telling the guys at my office, ‘Of course we were accepted to Bais Yaakov but we wanted to go to Machon Rivkah’. Yeah, sure.”

Mommy’s control snapped. “Who cares about the guys at the office? This is about our daughter! Not about the guys at work!”

“But they’d be right!”

“I don’t care! I refuse to discuss what some random guys in some office might think!”

Daddy picked up his phone and walked to the doorway. “So then think about this,” he said tightly. “In two years Yitz is going to have to apply for high school. I can just imagine what a yeshivah administration will think when they hear he has a sister in Machon. Are you willing to go through this all over again?”

***

Some kids were always in the library. I bet that’s what they think about me, Chaya thought, suppressing a giggle. Some of them were bookworms with spacey expressions and Harry Potter glasses and armloads of thousand-page books on topics like the sinking of the Titanic or the Allied strategies in WWII.

But some of them were not bookworms. They mostly hung around the computer center. What did they do all day on the computer?

Chaya avoided the bookworms. Not that it was hard, none had ever made eye contact. The computer ones never made eye contact either, but there was something compelling about them. Their freedom fascinated her.

A couple of kids were standing around the computers today, texting on their phones and listening to music. They looked around her age, maybe a little older. Chaya flipped her hair over her shoulder and slowed to a saunter.

“What’re you staring at?” The girl wore ripped denim and a graphic T-shirt and looked like she was itching for a fight. Chaya knew that feeling.

“I’m not staring,” Chaya retorted.

“Oh yeah?” The girl came closer. “Then what?” Chaya tried to think of a witty response. “Scaaared?” the girl taunted.

“No way.” She tried to sound aloof.

“Yeah, sure.” The girl rolled her eyes. “Then why are you dressed like that?”

That took her by surprise. “Like what?”

The girl snickered. “Like what!” she mimicked.

“Chill, Sherri,” called an older girl in a disgusted tone. She spun a DVD idly on a finger.

Sherri turned away from Chaya. “She not scaaaared,” she singsonged.

The older girl smirked. “Catch,” she said. She tossed Chaya the DVD. Chaya fumbled and blushed, but she caught it. A face she didn’t recognize stared vacantly from the label. She read the words. They were meaningless to her.

“Ever heard of them?” The girl stood near her, pointing at the DVD. She was taller than Chaya, with wavy brown hair and silver eyeshadow painted over dark, urgent eyes.

Chaya’s throat closed. “No.”

“Take it,” she urged. “It’s great. You’ll love it.”

A reckless feeling rose inside her. “Thanks,” she said casually. She turned to the checkout counter.

A hand shot out to stop her. “Not like that,” the girl said. Her eyes glittered. “The exit is that way. And then… you get to keep it.” She winked. “Isn’t that great?”

Chaya stared up at her.

“Scared?” the girl whispered with mock sympathy. “It’s hard… the first time.”

The blood rushed to Chaya’s face. She tossed her head. “I’m not scared!” She marched toward the door. Her heart pounded. She could hear Sherri and the dark-eyed girl laughing —a nd then she heard something else. Sandy! Sandy was running after her, Sandy had seen her, she would call the police! Chaya spun wildly, searching for a place to hide. She spotted a large metal book drop for after-hour returns. She dove behind it. Her heart raced.

No one came.

Chaya breathed quietly, gently, up and down. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

Nothing moved.

When she couldn’t stand it anymore she opened her eyes. The parking lot was empty.

A wave of exhilaration crept over her. She had done it!

She straightened up, trying to appear casual, like she had just been tying her shoes. She could still hear Sherri’s laughter, could still see the intensity in the other girl’s eyes. The round edges of the disc cut into her fingers. She stared at it.

A stolen DVD. She was no picture perfect book hero. That was for sure.

***

When Chaya woke up the next morning, the events of the previous day rose immediately before her eyes. I stole something, she thought, sickened. Think about something else.

She swung her feet over the side of the bed. Today was a new day, right? Today she was going to be good. Today she would… she would… she wouldn’t watch any DVDs. Instead… Chaya cast around for something else to do. What would she do instead? Strange, how she couldn’t really think of anything. Maybe… she would go to the mall. That was a nice, normal thing to do. Today she would be calm, and nice, and do normal things… like she used to.

Chaya stopped outside the kitchen and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could be normal, she could be calm, she could do this. She would just —

“Chaya?”

Chaya spun around.

“Chaya, we need to talk.” Mommy fumbled for a way to begin. “I — listen, it’s… I mean, Daddy and I…”

A tongue of anger flared and licked at Chaya’s heart.

Mommy pushed the words out. “You need to decide which school you’re going to.”

The words hung in the silence.

“School is starting soon… we need to give an answer.”

After a moment Mommy continued tentatively, “Do you… do you want to go to Bais Yaakov?” She saw the look on Chaya’s face and added quickly, “With your friends? Or you can go to Machon Rivkah, whatever you want is fine with us, it’s just that we need to let the schools know our — I mean, your decision.”

“I don’t care,” Chaya said. Her tone was icy.

“But Chaya, look, we need to make a decision. Do you want to go to Bais Yaakov?”

“I said I don’t care! I don’t want to go anywhere! Leave me alone!”

“Chaya, we need to — “

“I said leave me ALONE!”

She escaped to her room and fell asleep in front of the computer screen with tears on her cheeks.

***

Chaya didn’t recognize the girls standing outside the library building until she drew right up to them. She blinked. She had been avoiding her friends for so long, she was suddenly shy.

“Hey!” Esty called. “Chaya!”

“Hi,” said Chaya. She avoided eye contact.

Miriam gave her an appraising glance. “What’s doing?”

“Um, nothing much,” said Chaya. She glanced sideways at Miriam, she was from the other class and Chaya didn’t really know her. “What are you guys doing here?”

Miriam smiled mockingly. “Same thing you are, probably. Why, do you own the library?” She laughed derisively.

“I called you so many times,” Esty interrupted, ignoring Miriam. “Where’ve you been the whole summer?”

Chaya shrugged. “Nowhere,” she said. “Home, I guess.”

“Me too,” said Esty. There was an inflection in her tone that made Chaya look up.

“What do you mean?”

Esty shrugged. “You get it,” she said, and suddenly Chaya did get it. “What are your parents doing about it?” she asked, after a pause.

Esty shrugged again. “Waiting, I guess.”

“Did you ever hear of Machon Rivkah?” Chaya asked, hardly believing the words were coming out of her mouth. Maybe if Esty went…

“My mother refuses to consider it,” said Esty. “She says it’s for girls who… who… She says there’s no way I’m going there.”

Suddenly nothing else mattered to Chaya except to understand. “But what if Bais Yaakov doesn’t work out? Then what?”

Esty looked stricken. “I don’t know,” she said.

Miriam tossed her head again. Her long blonde hair whipped Chaya in the face. “I wouldn’t go to Machon Rivkah if you paid me,” she said. Her voice dripped with scorn.

“Well, lucky you,” said Chaya sarcastically. “Not all of us have that option.”

Miriam screeched with laughter. “Option?” she snickered. “Option? I don’t have that option, Chaya. I’m not going to Bais Yaakov or Machon Rivkah!” She scowled. “Even if they come begging me on their hands and knees, I would never go there!” The anger and hurt in her voice were so familiar, Chaya felt sick.

“Yeah?” Chaya demanded. “Then where will you go? You have to go somewhere.”

Miriam shrugged elaborately. “I don’t know,” she said. “And you know what? I don’t care.” She turned and swaggered toward the entrance.

Chaya stared after her. “She does care,” she said to Esty. “She has to care.”

Esty looked sad. “I don’t know what happened to her,” she said. “Probably she’ll end up in Machon. And that’s exactly what my mother is afraid of. She doesn’t want me to be friends with her anymore.”

“But you’re here… with her,” Chaya said.

Esty’s voice was bitter. “Who else should I hang out with? What choice do I have?”

Chaya stared at Miriam’s receding back. Her long, bleached hair blew in the breeze. What choice do I have?

Miriam didn’t have a choice, and Esty didn’t have a choice. But Chaya had a choice.

“You’re not angry like her,” Chaya persisted. She just had to figure this out.

“I’m not going to be like her,” Esty said forcefully. “Even if I go to Machon Rivkah in the end.”

Esty was strong. Much stronger than Chaya.

“How can you just let this happen to you?” Chaya demanded. “Aren’t you angry?”

Esty’s eyes burned. “Are you kidding?” Her voice was incredulous. “‘Angry’ doesn’t begin to describe it.” She laughed, a hollow sound.

“Well — punish them!” said Chaya, her voice rising. “Show them! Show them what happens when — when — they can’t just do this to people!”

“What happens?” Esty demanded. “Miriam? You want to be like Miriam? Who does that punish?” She waved a hand. “It punishes Miriam, that’s who! You think they care?” She sketched quotation marks in the air at the word “they.”

Chaya stared at Esty. “We’re only thirteen,” she blurted out.

“Yeah,” said Esty. “I’m not in the mood of ruining my whole life at this point. I’ll go to Machon Rivkah and I’ll be good. That’s what I decided. It’s possible.” She seemed to be talking to herself. “It has to be.”

Chaya listened in fascination. “But your mother doesn’t let you go there.” A question occurred to her. “Why not?”

A tremble crept into Esty’s voice. “My sister went there,” she said.

***

Chaya ignored the knocking at her door. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, or read anything, she didn’t even want to watch a video. The choice she had to make consumed her completely. Her mind painted the edge of a cliff so vast, the bottom was obscured. What did it feel like to fall, fall, fall into space?

She imagined Esty standing beside her. Esty would leap, soar across to the other side. How could Esty fly?

Esty knew a secret. Chaya was sure of it. Esty had a magic weapon. What was it? What secret did Esty know that gave her that power?

The doorknob turned.

It was Shuey. “Can you read to me?”

Chaya felt dazed. “No. Go away.”

Shuey pouted. “You’re always reading your books. Why can’t you read to me? Just one story.”

“Books are stupid.”

Shuey stared at her. “That’s not what you said last time.”

Chaya sat up. “Books are stupid because there’s always a happy ending. The author gives them some secret weapon, or an amazing talent, or someone special who comes and saves them. And life is not like that.” She looked at Shuey, feeling indescribably sad. He was so young and happy; he had no idea what he was in for. “In real life, no one takes care of you, and nothing makes sense. What do you think? That there’s an author who makes everything work out in the end?”

“Yeah,” said Shuey, matter-of-factly.

***

Halfway down the block Chaya stopped. Was it safe to go to the library? What if somebody recognized her? Would they call the police? She dug her hands into her pockets, scared. There was a park nearby. Chaya hunkered down on a bench to think.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to the park!”

Chaya whirled around. “Shuey! What are you doing here?”

Shuey looked at her like she was crazy. He indicated a group of boys his age. “I always come to the park,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Chaya scanned the playground as if looking for the answer. There were a few girls grouped at the far end, near the slide. Now and then they burst into screeching laughter. Chaya could see Sherri among them, and the older girl. Unconsciously, she straightened her back.

“Hey, look who it is!” One of the girls waved toward Chaya. Miriam! “Hey, Chaya, c’mere!”

“Go play,” Chaya told Shuey.

“Who are they?” he asked. His forehead was creased with concern. The expression looked much too old for his little-boy face.

Chaya ignored him. As if in a dream, she walked toward the girls. “Hi,” she said.

“This is Chaya,” Miriam announced. “Chaya, this is Kaila —”

“We know each other,” broke in the older girl with the dark, magnetic eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” returned Chaya. She was amazed at how easily they accepted her.

“Hey,” said Sherri.

“We’re going to Jerusalem Pizza,” said Kaila. A smirk played around her mouth. “Want to come?”

Chaya knew what she was asking. “Sure,” she said, with just the right amount of casual indifference. She fell into step with the group, walking, laughing, snapping selfies, chewing gum. Kaila walked alongside her, and it was so easy to just… go.

But as they moved toward the exit something slid into place in her mind: the choice of schools wasn’t going to happen at some future point, it was happening right now. She searched Kaila’s and Miriam’s faces and saw loyalty but not love, in the sound of their laughter she heard hysteria, not happiness. They were going to the pizza store with a hunger that food could not satisfy. Chaya abruptly stopped walking. This wasn’t what she wanted.

But Kaila was calling her name, a sardonic smile spreading across her face, and Miriam was turning around to see where she was. It was too late…

Shuey was at her elbow, looking worried. “Chaya, are you going with them?”

Kaila was watching her coolly. “Chaya, you coming?”

If this was a book, this was exactly when the hero would swoop down and save her. But she was the main character right now — plain, helpless, weak, rejected Chaya. Where could she get the strength to do what she needed to do?

Chaya closed her eyes. Help me! she whispered. Please, help me!

She opened her eyes. With superhuman effort, she took a step back. “Go without me,” she said to Kaila. The words came out in a gasp, and she felt short of breath. “I’m going home.”

Kaila sneered. “Coward,” she said mockingly. She turned her back on Chaya and in two strides had rejoined the group. She said something Chaya couldn’t hear. The girls exploded in laughter.

Chaya waited until they were out of sight. Then she turned her head upward. The blue sky seemed so vast. Was it raining? No, those were her tears. “Thank You,” she whispered.

She knew the secret now. And Kaila was wrong. She wasn’t a coward. She was a hero.

***

On her first day at Bais Yaakov High, Chaya left the house early. She marched down the block and turned left at the corner, stopping in front of a familiar building. For a moment she stared at the book drop outside. If she squinted just a bit she could see a girl hiding behind it, a scared, lost girl with dirty-blonde hair and wild eyes holding tightly to a stolen DVD because it was the only thing in the whole crazy world she could hold onto.

She slid her backpack around and slipped the DVD out of the front pocket. She held it for a moment, feeling the weight in her palm. Deliberately, she reached over and dropped it into the book drop. Maybe it was just the lightness in her backpack, but she felt suddenly free.

Then she turned and began to walk. She walked by herself, but she wasn’t alone. And that knowledge gave her strength. Like a magic spell, or a secret weapon, or a special Someone who was looking out for her.

(Originally featured in Calligraphy 607)