"Would you mind eating lunch with Oded from geometry?" Marion asked Zia. Asking this when they were already in the lunch line meant there was only one reply.

"You don't want an honest answer."

"I wouldn't mind...."

"I'd make you choose and Oded already invited us. He's OK. It's just..."

"You don't have to tell me. Boys mature later than girls."

"They make jokes about kids like Farley."

"They make jokes about kids like us."

"Those jokes get racist."

"They can get antisemitic too but that's another story. So you're OK."

"I'll figure it out. You want to go look for the boys?"

"Someone's got to do it."

"Why don't you let me..." That was an odd request, Marion thought, but she watched Zia stride away. Marion considered for a moment that Zia was lying, that she was going off somewhere to hide in the bathroom. It would be a great way to duck the three or four boys who stuck together in a self-centered ill mannered pack.

A short while later, Zia returned. "They were on the stairs," she sighed. "Oded asked for your rag from the art room."

"He's finding the table, so sweet."

"He's educable."

"Yeah," sighed Zia as Marion handed her the rag. Off Zia trotted again, good honest Zia.  The line moved more slowly than usual this lunch period. Marion thought back to learning to dive. When she could dive standing instead of squatting or kneeling, she'd take the advanced aquatics test and move up into the group, though she'd probably get to repeat the course because she missed a lot of the life saving. Today the advanced kids got to jump into the water with all their clothes on, take them off, and blow them up like balloons to lie on, make shift floatation devices. Even the little ten year old in the orange bathing suit could do it though she got lost in her sweat pants. "If I ran the world," thought Marion, "I would never mix high school and middle school kids together for gym. It's just too weird.

Zia returned once again as the line started to move. "Poor Farley," Zia cooed maternally. "He's afraid they are going to run out of the only decent thing to eat."

"They never run out of Cheese Doodles," Marion quipped.

Zia snorted. The line moved some more. Marion craned her neck, but the boys at the top of the stairs already made it through the dining hall double doors. "At least," thought Zia, they would not have to find a table.

This had to be done. Lying across 15,000 kilometers was not easy and it would get harder with each passing week. Zia pushed her brain into Kikuyu. Across from her on the opposite bed, Marion was preparing a letter that included photographs that she would print off in the next day or two and send to one of her parents who was locked up in a private gaol called a sober home. Marion's parents had either done drugs or hung around with people who did drugs. Marion felt the police should have left her parents alone, but cops in the United States were largely immune to bribery or exchange of favors, or so Zia gathered. Marion's parents would otherwise not be suffering as they currently did.

"Hello daughter," Zia's mother cried out through Zia's earbuds. "Are you well?"

"Very well, mother. Mother, I have something to tell you... I am not switching churches."

"You are not....Why not?"

"I like the kids I am with."

"And when you return to Kenya."

"I just say I go to church every week. I don't have to tell people where. I am too young for politics. Nobody will even ask me about certain issues. I look like too good a girl. Unless you have differences with me, no one will know."

"You are a clever child," Zia's mother told her.

Zia was sure this was a backhanded compliment if ever she heard one.

"That is not the worst thing in the world," Zia's mother walked it back. "But for how long can you be tempted to be quiet. You are not inside a convent any more."

"I can not vote here, so I can  not be political here. I will go to university after I graduate. I will not live where I can change things until I come home, and then there will be other matters." Business after all made the world go round when one thought of it.

"Perhaps... There is not much I can do about this. I am glad you decided to be truthful with me. You are still a good example to the little ones."

"I try to be mama."

"Has any one offered you anything intoxicating?"

"Not this week," Zia wondered if her mother would get the joke.

"What about boys? Not the kind who paint their nails."

The school was too white bread and she who was both black and barely developed didn't stand a chance. "I am not beautiful enough," Zia told her mother finally.

"You are quite beautiful."

"Every child is beautiful in her mother's eyes."

"Yes, but...when you get home. You will grow out and fill out. Give it time. If you let your hair grown in and braid it then.... You have a fine face. If you go to University in England there will be more African men."

"And you will worry about me."

"At some point, I won't have to worry because you will want to marry and I am a realist."

That seemed impossibly far away, besides Marion was not going to tell her mother that the boys who seemed to enjoy Marion's and her company were positively disgusting. Marion seemed not to have a problem with that, but Zia.... "My mother does not know my shame," she thought when the phone call was over. She also realized that she and her mother would not speak about church again.

There was a line for lunch. There was always a line for lunch, Corianne reflected. Of course metal shop had gone very badly. She wasn't sure for what she hoped. Her concept for a frieze/sculpture illustrating Psalm 148 was approved but her mechanical drawing was all wrong. Mechanical drawing was like a swim test for klutzes. Her stepmother, dad's current wife, out in Indiana would tell her to pay attention and concentrate. Neither of these helped all that much when Corianne thought about it.

She decided that she was the same way with her mechanical drawing as the poor older girl in intermediate swimming was with diving. She stood endlessly in four foot deep water struggling with surface dives, though lately she had switched to squatting and kneeling dives by the edge of the pool. This had to be a change for the worse because the poor, older girl looked like she was paying for the sin of her klutziness, whereas Corianne at the mechanical drawing tables by herself looked cool and normal. If there was another kid there, she still looked cool and normal. 

Her mother in the Emriates, was more realistic about Corianne's mechanical drawing woes. "Keep at it. It gets better with practice like everything else," her mother had emailed. "My mother doesn't have to deal with my emotions," Corianne thought. She also told herself that at least she had a good idea for a project.

Still it had hurt that she'd been alone with her humiliation in shop class that morning. Tikvah who needed to figure out how to distress metal, had been sent with a pass to the library to research the techniques she wanted to use, by viewing YouTube videos.

She was grateful Tikvah had found her in the lunch line. "How'd the drawing go?" she asked.

"It sucked," answered Corianne.

"You find any way to make metal look old?"

"A couple of things. I think I have to learn chemistry. It sucks to be ten."

"Only if you let it," said a voice that was too young to belong to a teacher. Had Suri and Jupita parked themselves behind them in line intentionally? That was a good question. Corianne figured out that metal shop with mechanical drawing or a trip to the library let out earlier than Advanced or Beginner Aquatics. Whatever Suri and Jupita had before lunch let out a bit later. Coincidence still sucked though.

"I'd rather be an adult too or at least in high school," Tikvah consoled Corianne.

"You two are crazy," Suri told them. "Mind your own fucking business," thought Corianne.

"You like not knowing stuff?" asked Tikvah.

"I don't care about school stuff. Most people don't. You just have to act like you do in class," Suri explained.  Jupita nodded.

"Do you have metal shop?" Tikvah asked.

"Why would I take metal shop?" asked Jupita.

"Because it's better than health or music," Corianne replied.

"Yeah, but we're not on Team Six. Team Six is for weirdos," Suri explained.

"Takes one to know one," Corianne sing-songed.

"Speak for yourself. How come your parents didn't visit this weekend?"

"Mom's in the Emirates."

"Where the fuck is that?"

"Near Saudi Arabia in the Middle East."

"You mean like I ran?"

"I see you don't care about geography," Tikvah took a swipe.

"Why should I?"

"Cause you'd sound a bit less like an asshole," Corianne answered.

"Oooohhhhhh...."

"Fuck yourself," Corianne added.

"Such language."

"It offends her virgin ears but her mouth is another story," Corianne answered.

"I realize it is very exciting to learn cuss words for the first time," an older girl in front of Corianne waded into the argument.

"You're so sarcastic," Corianne told the high school student. "We can wield our own cudgels, you know." This was a great expression, and Corianne figured a cudgel was a weapon, though she was not sure what kind. All she knew was that one wielded weapons so cudgels were weapons, and the expression made sense and sounded grown up.

"Yes, and it's so interesting to watch," high school student told Corianne, Tikvah, Suri, and Jupita.

"Don't listen if we offend you," Corianne replied.

"Yeah," Tikvah added. Suri shook her head so her perfect, golden braids jumped and danced. Jupita looked at her shoes. "Coward!" thought Corianne. Just then the line moved. They were nearly at the door and Albina stood against the wall in a scrum of other Suite Advisors.

"I see your baby sitter is here," high school student sunk one in.

"She's just being friendly that's all," Tikvah answered. "Besides we have important stuff to discuss. Only high school kids get to gossip."

"I see." High school student made a face. Corianne wished that Albina who probably overheard the argument would give her girls a thumbs up for taking on someone older and not all that smart, but adults just consider kids' arguments noise pollution, but in a way that's better than taking sides especially when it's siblings or kids the same age.

Albina took a blue rag that had once been part of a t-shirt from her purse and tossed it to Suri. "You and Corianne put the table together and tie this to something so the rest can see. Then you can go get lunch. I'll wait out here for the stragglers and come in with them." Suri gazed at the t-shirt rag as if it had cooties. Then she glanced at Corianne. Corianne shrugged. Putting a table together with Suri was no worse than struggling with mechanical drawing in metal shop.

Monday night, Tikvah called her father:

"טאַטי!"
"העלא טיקוואַה ... זענט איר גרייט צו קומען היים?"
"נישט ביז דער געריכט קען מיר."

There was silence. Tikvah tried picking up the conversation again.

יך האָב סוואַם די גאנצע לענג פון די בעקן הייַנט. זיי מאַכן אַן עלטערע מיידל שווימען מיט מיר. איך טראַכטן איך טאַקעאַ וועט לערנען צו שווימען."
"איז וואָס איר האָט גערופֿן צו זאָגן מיר?"
"יאָ, און מיר לערנען גראַמאַטיק אין ענגליש."
"ענגליש איז אַ פרעמדע שפּראַך."
"נו, זיי רעדן דאָ ניט ייִדיש אָדער העברעיִש."
"וואס טוסטו פאר ראש השנה?"
"גיין צו יונגע ישראל פון ווייסע פּליינז ביידע טעג."
"דו דארפסט קומען אהיים."

"איר האָט דאָס שוין געזאָגט."
"אזוי איר וועט נאָר בלייַבן אין אַז ... ג__ שולע אויף אייביק?"
"טאטי, מיר קענען נישט קאַמיש טינגז. די פּאָליצייַ, געדענקט."
"ביסט איר טאַקע דערשראָקן פון די פּאָליצייַ, טיקוואַה?"
"דאָך איך בין. זיי מיינען."
"צי ניט איר טראַכטן השם-באַשיצן איר?"
"ער האט ניט לעצטע פרילינג."
"אפֿשר דאָס מאָל וועט זיין אַנדערש."
"עס וועט ניט זיין ביז איר גיין צו הויף."
"ווער האָט דיר געזאָגט דאָס צו זאָגן."
"קיינער. איך האָבן פריי וועט און זעלבסט-פאַרוואַלטונג."
"וואָס געלערנט איר די ווערטער."
"איך געלערנט זעלבסט - פאַרוואַלטונג פון אַלבינאַ."
"אַלבינאַ איז אויף זייער זייַט, איר וויסן."
"אַלבינאַ איז אויף איר אייגענע זײַט. איך בין אויף מיין אייגענע זייט."


585/5000
"איר האָט דאָס שוין געזאָגט."
"אזוי איר וועט נאָר בלייַבן אין אַז ... ג__ שולע אויף אייביק?"
"טאטי, מיר קענען נישט קאַמיש טינגז. די פּאָליצייַ, געדענקט."
"ביסט איר טאַקע דערשראָקן פון די פּאָליצייַ, טיקוואַה?"
"דאָך איך בין. זיי מיינען."
"צי ניט איר טראַכטן השם-באַשיצן איר?"
"ער האט ניט לעצטע פרילינג."
"אפֿשר דאָס מאָל וועט זיין אַנדערש."
"עס וועט ניט זיין ביז איר גיין צו הויף."
"ווער האָט דיר געזאָגט דאָס צו זאָגן."
"קיינער. איך האָבן פריי וועט און זעלבסט-פאַרוואַלטונג."
"וואָס געלערנט איר די ווערטער."
"איך געלערנט זעלבסט - פאַרוואַלטונג פון אַלבינאַ."
"אַלבינאַ איז אויף זייער זייַט, איר וויסן."
"אַלבינאַ איז אויף איר אייגענע זײַט. איך בין אויף מיין אייגענע זייט."

"איר האָט דאָס שוין מעגלעך."
"דער בילד איר וועט נאָר זיין אין דער ... ג__ שולע אויף אייביק?"
"טאטי, אני לא יכול להיות קמיש טינגז. די פּאָליטיק, געדענקט."
"דער בעסטער אירער דערשראָקן פֿון די רייזצײַ, טיקוואַה?"
זיי מיינען. "
"צי ניט איר זענט דער נאָמען פון באַשיצן איר?"
ער האט נישט דער בעסטער פרילינג. "
"אפֿשר דאָס מאָל וועט ווערן דער זעלביקער."
"זה לא יהיה משוגע. אתה יכול ללכת לחיים."
"ווער האָט שאַץ זיך צו זאָגן."
"קיינער. איך האָבן פריי וועט און זעלבסט-פאַרוואַלטונג."
"וואָס קאָרנער איר די ווערטער."
"איך ליבערטין זעלבסט - פאַרוואַלטונג פֿון אַלבינאַ."
"אַלבינאַ איז אויף זיין בעסטער סיסטעם, איר וויסן."
"אַלבינאַ איז אויף איר אייגענע זײַט. איך בין אויף מיין אייגענע דריי."

"און דיין זייַט לייקס מעטאַל קראָם, שווימערייַ, און ביכער וועגן סיזאַנס?"
"יאָ ... טאַטי."
"איר וויסן וואָס דאָס איז גערופן?"
"יא, שולע."
"ניין, צעמישונג. איר וועט פאַרגעסן ווער איר טאַקע זענט."
"ניין איך בין נישט. איך בין נאָך דאַוונען אין שול און אָנטאָן צניוס."
"יאָ, אָבער עס וועט צעטרעטן נישט היינט, נאָר אין פינף אָדער זעקס יאָר. דאָס איז וואָס כאַפּאַנז מיט אַלע אידן אין אַמעריקע."
"דערנאָך איר דאַרפֿן צו האַלטן באזוכן מיר."
"וואָס וועט דאָס טאָן?"
"איר באַקומען מער וויזיטינג שעה."
"אזוי ..."
"יווענטשאַוואַלי מיר וועלן נישט דאַרפֿן אַלבינאַ."
"דערנאָך איר וועט קומען היים מיט מיר."
"ווען איך בין אין מיטלשול."
"מיר קענען ניט וואַרטן אַזוי לאַנג."
"טאטי, מיר דארפן ווארטן."

"וואָס איז די פונט פון מיין וויזיט?"
"צי ניט איר ליבע מיר און וועלן צו זען מיר?"
"איך ווילן צו זען איר וואַקסן אַרויף רעכט, טיקוואַה."
"איך פרוביר צו טאָן דאָס."
"איר דארפט קומען צוריק היים פֿאַר וואָס."
"איך קען ניט גיין צוריק צו ניו קוואדראט ביז דער הויף קען מיר! איר האָט געזען די טרופּערז לעצטע פרילינג. ניין."
"וואָס אויב איך טאָן ניט קומען בעשאַס די הויך רוח טעג?"
"דערנאָך עס וועט זיין פּונקט ווי לעצט זומער אַחוץ איך בין אין באָרדינג שולע."
"איר טאָן ניט זאָרגן?"
"איך זאָרגן, אָבער איך בין צען יאָר אַלט. עס איז בלויז אַזוי פיל וואָס איך קען טאָן."
"האָט איר ליב השם און די תורה?"
"יא, און איך האָב דיר אויך ליב, טאטי."
"דערנאך איר דאַרפֿן צו קומען היים."
"נישט ביז..."
"סטאָפּ טיקוואַה. ביטע ..."
"ניין"

"איר מוזן אָננעמען פאַקט טאַטי,"
"איר סאָונדס פּונקט ווי דיין מוטער."
"איך ליבע איר טאַטי."
"איך ליבע איר אויך טיקוואַה."

TRANSLATION
"Tati!"
"Hello Tikvah... Are you ready to come home?"
"Not until the court lets me."

There was silence. Tikvah tried picking up the conversation again.

"I swam the whole length of the pool today. They made an older girl swim with me. I think I'm really going to learn to swim."
"Is that what you called to tell me?"
"Yes, and we're learning grammar in English."
"English is a foreign language."
"Well they don't speak Yiddish or Hebrew here."
"What are you doing for Rosh HaShanna?"
"Going to Young Israel of White Plains both days."
"You need to come home."

"I don't have much of a home any more," Tikvah thought. By now it was just a statement of fact.

"You already said that."
"So you are just going to stay at that... g__ school forever?"
"Tati, we can't rush things. The police, remember."
"Are you really afraid of the police, Tikvah?"
"Of course I am. They're mean."
"Don't you think HaShem will protect you?"
"He didn't last spring."
"Maybe this time will be different."
"It won't be until you go to court."
"Who told you to say that."
"Nobody. I have free will and autonomy."
"Who taught you those words."
"I learned autonomy from Albina."
"Albina is on their side, you know."
"Albina is on her own side. I am on my own side."

"And your side likes metal shop, swimming, and books about sicence?"
"Yeah...tati."
"You know what that's called?"
"Yes, school."
"No, confusion. You're going to forget who you really are."
"No I'm not. I still pray in shul and dress tznius."
"Yes, but it will slip away, not today but in five or six years. That's what happens to all Jews in America."
"Then you need to keep visiting me."
"What will that do."
"You get more visiting hours."
"So..."
"Eventually we won't need Albina."
"Then you will come home with me."
"When I'm in high school."
"We can't wait that long."
"Tati, we have to wait."

"Then what is the point of my visiting?"
"Don't you love me and want to see me?"
"I want to see you grow up right, Tikvah."
"I'm trying to do that."
"You need to come back home for that."
"I can't go back to New Square until the court lets me! You saw the troopers last spring. No."
"What if I don't come during the High Holy Days?"
"Then it will be just like last summer except I'm in boarding school."
"You don't care?"
"I care, but I'm ten years old. There's only so much I can do."
"Do you love HaShem and the Torah?"
"Yes, and I love you too, tati."
"Then you need to come home."
"Not until..."
"Stop, Tikvah. Please..."
"No." Tikvah realized neither of them could win the argument. Only the courts could win the argument, the courts and the police.

"You have to accept reality tati," she told her father.
"You sound just like your mother."
"I love you tati."
"I love you too Tikvah."

Tikvah buried her face into the pillow. The familiar pain behind the eyes exploded. It wasn't fair to put all this on her. Free will and autonomy were fine, as far as they went, but didn't parents have a responsibility to behave responsibly. That was the way Tikvah thought of it. Parents were not supposed to kidnap their children if they couldn't hide them from the police, and besides, being kidnapped was not going home.

"Don't cry, Tikvah," couneled Corianne who was emailing her mother in the opposite bed.

"Lights out, ladies! Now!" bellowed the mora, Albina.

"In the dark," thought Tikvah. "Nobody can see you cry."

The email arrived while Tikvah was doing grammar. Corianne hated grammar, but Tikvah did not mind. It was like doing math with words, she told herself. She opened her email program and saw a letter from Dr. Zafran, the faculty member who walked all the religious, Jewish kids to Young Israel of White Plains. This Friday she would make the eight mile round trip and on Saturday she would do it again.

Walking for faith was easy. In fact she would do it again and again and again until she could walk no farther. Perhaps it was because it showed she could do something. In Miz Albina's adult talk, that was not entirely false, walking to shul and back was a way for Tikvah to take advantage of her free will and autonomy, and using your free will and autonomy make you feel more powerful. Power, Tikvah reflected, was an excellent thing.

Tikvah opened the mail.

Dear Tikvah, Aaron,Colette.Marcus,Rivka, and Zalman,

Please let me know what snacks you like and I will take them over to the kitchen at Young Israel of White Plains. They are not having kiddush on Rosh HaShannah Friday and may not be breaking the fast on Yom Kippur. I spoke to an officer of the congregation and he referred me to the head of the Kiddush Committee, and she said I could put a box of treats and cold drinks in the kitchen as long as they were kosher and we had our name on the box or bag. They have paper plates and similar supplies, and we can take over a classroom so no one has to walk back to campus on an empty stomach after a long day. Please reply by tomorrow afternoon. Thanks in advance.

Dr. Zafran

Tikvah instantly knew what snack she wanted, chocolate chip cookies and coffee Oreos. She did not care about drinks. Milk was fraught. Soda would be OK. Corianne drank soda and Hawaiian Punch with impunity. Cookies and milk though were a thing. They were also an odd way to celebrate Rosh HaShanna but when you run on free will and autonomy, all the other rules get blown away.