“I heard that her neighbors used to hear yelling from the apartment — you know, before they sent her away”

Blue-and-white-striped shirts colored the auditorium as the girls waited for Mrs. Baum, the principal, to begin her orientation speech. Racheli sat with her close group of friends. She couldn’t believe they were in 9th grade and that they’d all made it to the high school of their choice.

“My sister says I can’t wear scrunchies now that I’m in high school,” Riki said. “I’m so mad.” The girls laughed. They all knew Riki’s obsession with scrunchies.

Oh, there came Pessi Newman. Racheli put on a bright smile. “Do you want to sit here?” she asked kindly. Her friends moved over to make room for Pessi. Racheli had already met her outside and done her best to show her some warmth. She and her friends had been informed about Pessi’s sensitive background back in camp. Their bunkmate Tobi had told them about a few girls in her elementary school who would be joining them for high school, among them Pessi Newman. “She’s the oldest, and her parents aren’t able to raise her, so she lives with her aunt and uncle. It’s very sad. Be nice to her.”

That conversation most definitely bordered on lashon hora but if the information helped us help Pessy now that she was in school with us, than it was probably okay…

They all looked at her sympathetically now.

“I love your watch,” Malky said.

“Thanks,” Pessi answered. The sorrow was obvious in her eyes as she stared back at them, and then away.

The girls continued their chitchat, rehashing the ins and outs of high school. They quieted down as Mrs. Baum stepped up to the podium and cleared her throat. “Baruch haba, girls,” she said warmly. Racheli played with the keychain on her wallet as she listened to Mrs. Baum’s parable comparing high school girls to soldiers training for war. “Whatever personal circumstances you’re in, we’re all on the same mission, gearing up for the same battle. Life as  bnos Yisrael…” Rachei’s eyes fluttered to Pessi. She saw her quickly glance down at her hands, her face pale and fragile against her raven ponytail. Certainly, she was thinking about her own personal circumstances, which were no picnic whichever way you looked at it.