W

hen the car service pulled up in front of their building. Rabbi Levinson ran off to shul and Mrs. Levinson ran home to start cooking supper. As soon as Yitzy got out of the car, he stopped to look up at the old, grey building that his family called home. It was eight stories tall and very wide. It wasn’t the prettiest building around, but it wasn’t the ugliest one either. Yitzy had been living in this building since the day he was born, but he had never looked at it the way he did right now.

“Could all this possibly belong to me one day?” he asked himself. It was too unbelievable to imagine.

Suddenly, Yitzy’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice behind him.

“Are you okay?”

Yitzy whirled around to see his best friend, Yossi, riding his bike up the street toward him.

“Why did you leave in the middle of math?” asked Yossi. “Are you sick or something?”

Yitzy was excited to see his friend. He couldn’t wait to tell Yossi all about the meeting he had in Mr. Blum’s office. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Yossi’s face when he heard that Yitzy might become the owner of this building.

Yitzy opened his mouth to tell Yossi the story. Suddenly, he remembered Mr. Blum’s words: “You may not tell your friends, and you may not even tell your siblings.”

Yitzy clamped his mouth shut.

“Nu,” cried Yossi, “tell me already! What happened?”

Yitzy began to panic. He knew he couldn’t tell Yossi what happened in the lawyer’s office, but he had to tell him something.

“Er… ah… um… you see…” Suddenly, an idea popped into Yitzy’s head. “Um… I made a big decision today.”

“You did?” asked Yossi.

“Yes,” answered Yitzy. “I decided to win the Mishnayos competition.”

Yossi looked carefully at his friend. “You decided to do what?” he asked.

Yitzy began to grow more confident. “I said, I decided to win the Mishnayos competition,” he repeated.

“Er... um... Why? I mean, how?” stammered Yossi.

“Well,” answered Yitzy, “you did hear about Mr. Greenbaum, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Yossi, “I heard he was taken to the hospital.”

“Exactly,” said Yitzy, “and I want him to get well again. That’s why I decided to do well on the Mishnayos competition, as a zechus for Mr. Greenbaum to get better.”

Yossi thought about what Yitzy said.

“I guess that makes sense,” he agreed. “But how do you plan on winning? Don’t you know that you will be competing against Yaakov Dorfman, the smartest kid in the whole school?”

“I have a simple plan,” answered Yitzy, “I will just keep learning the Mishnayos, over and over again, with you.”

Yossi’s eyes popped open. “With me?” he stuttered. “I’m not the best kid in class!”

“That doesn’t matter,” said Yitzy. “What matters is that you know the Mishnayos a lot better than I do. Maybe we can go to shul together after class every night, and you’ll teach me the Mishnayos.”

Yossi stared at his friend. “Excuse me, sir,” he said. “Are you my old friend Yitzy Levinson, or are you someone from a different planet disguised as him? You certainly don’t sound like Yitzy. The Yitzy I know would never want to spend extra time learning.”

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 755)