I look at her. Does she? Maybe she thinks I davened for her shidduch? Now I feel bad.

But Libby jerks her head in the direction of Levi, currently sitting on top of Miri’s two-year-old, Esti, while she shrieks in protest.

We watch Yocheved leap to her feet, and we turn away, not wanting to embarrass her.

“So one month as Morah Taub’s favorite student. How’s it going?” Libby teases me. We drag fries through garlic dipping sauce, chewing enthusiastically. BurgerLand may not be the classiest joint, but they have the best food in Toms River.

I shrug. “Amazing. I’m going to be class president, and maybe Morah Taub will even invite me for a Shabbos seudah.”

We laugh tiredly.

“Sure, as long as you go over on Erev Shabbos and peel all the vegetables,” Libby says.

I roll my eyes. “I already do. How’s college, Nurse Taub?” I feel bad realizing I haven’t asked her that question in way too long.

She gives a half-smile, munches on another fry. “It’s going great, just long and tiring. We have practicals soon. Yikes.”

Nodding, I look at her. “You know, you’re going to be an amazing nurse.”

She swats me on the shoulder. “I should hope so!”

I look around the room. Sima couldn’t make it tonight, but— “Sima would be really good, too,” I say.

Libby looks at me sharply. “Why do you think that?”

I tell her about how she patched up Levi that day in the park, and Libby’s face turns thoughtful.

“In-ter-est-ing….”

I’m about to ask her what exactly is so in-ter-est-ing about that when Yocheved rushes up, Levi in her arms, screaming and kicking. “Gonna go put this big guy to bed. Uh, tell Miri I’m sorry, okay?”

We turn to look at Miri, holding a shrieking Esti, who in turn is holding her arm, decorated with a perfect circle of teeth indentations in a lovely shade of purple.

I feel so bad for Yocheved.

Nurse Libby runs over to Miri to help, and Yocheved makes her escape.

I think back to my candle tefillah. I daven that Yocheved opens her eyes and sees that Levi needs real serious help.

Amen, one day soon.

Morah Rosenbaum is a genius. This much is clear to me. What’s unclear is what exactly Morah Rosenbaum is trying to say. I look sideways at Debbi; she meets my gaze and nods. I head out for the restroom, Debbi shows up a few minutes later. I feel bad skipping class, but honestly, there’s ten minutes left and I’m lost.

“Do you understand a word Morah Rosenbaum says?” I grouch to Debbi as we walk around the grounds. She pulls out her Lululemon scrunchie, shakes out her hair, and remakes her ponytail.

“Mostly,” she says and we smile tiredly.

“How’s Babi Landau?” I ask. Debbi’s grandmother is a total hoot, but she’s had pneumonia the past week.

Debbi smiles brightly. “She’s doing amazing! You should come over and visit.”

Impulsively I reach out and touch her elbow. “I will.”

I miss Babi Landau; she’s such a spunky woman.

“How’s Levi?” Debbi asks.

I’m about to answer when the bell rings. We hurry back to class, studiously not meeting the eyes of Morah Rosenbaum as we pass her in the hallway.

It’s only later, during lunch, that Ma comes over again. I resignedly hand her my bowl of feta cheese salad, but she ignores it.

“Girls, Morah Rosenbaum just told me you skipped the end of class. Is that true?”

I turn around slowly. This is not happening. Teachers are not using lunchtime to have PTA with my mother, are they?

That’s so unfair! Poor Debbi’s face is scarlet.

I shrug, my face set in stone.

Ma must sense how upset I am, because she says quietly, “We’ll talk about this later,” and leaves.

I am mortified. I am annoyed. I am furious.

But right now, I’m just hungry. Wordlessly, I hand Debbi a fork and we dig in.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 969)