"English," explained Mr. Zawroski to a group of half awake freshpeople "Is reading and communicating the language. Now we could start in any order, but sometimes it is good to take apart what you know, the basic building blocks as it were, and figuring out how to build a structure from scratch, so we are going to begin this year with grammar."

"I already know grammar," thought Marion. She had good grades back in her private day school, and Shaunna (Oh how she missed her governess!), who had a college degree in education, could help her when she got stuck. Shaunna even knew math, and had gotten Marion ready to face algebra in Malta where the math was harder, but even in Malta, Marion's English teacher complimented her on her writing, which meant, she knew her grammar. To put it succinctly, this was going to be BORING!

"Who here has ever diagrammed a sentence before?" asked Mr. Zawroski. No kid raised their hand and the lesson began. Diagramming a simple sentence was baby stuff, but if you did a compound sentence or added one of those who, that, or which parts or a beause or similar word, or anything else that fancy writers used, the sentences morphed into spider webs. Diagramming sentences was a game. It was a game with its own set of rules.  Dr. Zawroski even gave the kids books that looked like they were bound in a Kinkos to teach them this kind of grammar. He gave an assignment, and Marion emerged from English feeling that her time was at least not entirely wasted.

"The nuns didn't teach me this," Zia told her roommate.

"This is f-----ing weird," another girl complained.

The kids milled about in the hall. Some toyed with their credentials. A teacher came by and made a boy pull his out of his shirt. "School is the same all over," thought Marion who told herself to pick her battles. She was due in Papke-Sienko for math, and so too was Zia.

Tikvah really looked forward to this phone call on this night before the first day of classes. This was her third first day of classes in a new school. It was important, even if she did not plan to be here long. That night before she could go to the station party up in the Okri-Funk penthouse, she had to stop by the computer room and email a message to her mother in Brooklyn. Albina said it didn't matter what she said, but it made her look bad if kids didn't write.

Once that chore was done, the Station Party had been pretty good. There was a Suite Advisor running a spin art booth. There was Twister for those with no sense of tznius, since this was a mixed group. There was social dancing, including both line and partner dance lessons, vision boards, and various kinds of games including tag and clapping games that Albina led.

The party had left her too giddy to sleep.Tikvah dialed her father:

"העלא טאַטי!"
"העלא טיקוואַה, ווען לאָזן זיי איר אַרויס?"
טאַטי, איך האָב זיך רעגיסטרירט היינט צו טאָג אין דער שולע. זיי לערנען דאָ אַלע סאָרטן, פּונקט ווי אין שולע אין ברוקלין.
"איך וויל נישט הערן וועגן דיין גייסטישע שולע."
"נו, איך וועל זיין אויב איך קען נישט אַרויסגיין פֿאַר אַ בשעת."
"איר וועט באַלד אַרויסגיין. איך וועל זען."
"טאטי, די איינציגסטע וואלן ווען איך האב זיך איינגעשריבן איז געווען מעטאל שאָפּ, און מידנפולנעסס, אַזוי מיין רומייט, דער וואָס לייענט תהילים און איך, האָט זיך איינגעשריבן פֿאַר מעטאַל שאָפּ."
"איר רומייט איר טאַקע לייענען תהלים."
"זי לייענט זיי אויף ענגליש. זי האָט געטראגן א ביבל פון דער מיטלשול ביבליאטעק."
"א גוישע ביבל."
"א קריסטלעך ביבל, אָבער די פּסלאַמס זענען די זעלבע ביסט נישט?"
"יאָ ... אויב איר וועט לייענען זיי אויף ענגליש. טיקוואַה, די גיכער מיר האָבן איר פֿון דער אַרויסגעוואָרפן שולע, די בעסער."
"איך שטימען טאַטי."
"דעמאלסט זאג מיר ווען דו וועסט ארויסגיין."
"איך ווייס נאָך ניט. איך וועל וויסן שפּעטער אין דער וואָך."
"אָוקיי, איר לאָזן מיר וויסן."
"וואָס אויב עס איז אויף שבת."
"איך האָב גערעדט מיט אַ רב און ער האָט געזאָגט אז עס איז אָוקיי צו פאָרן צו ראטעווען א קידנעפּט קינד."
"אָוקיי, ווען איך געפֿינען עס אויס, איך לאָזן איר וויסן. איך ליבע איר טאַטי."
"איך ליבע איר טיקוואַה."

TRANSLATION
"Hello tati!"
"Hello Tikvah, when are they letting you out?"
"They haven't told me yet. Tati, I registered for electives at school today. They teach all kinds of subjects here, just like at the school in Brooklyn."
"I don't want to hear about your goyische school."
"Well, it's where I'm going to be if I can't get out for a while."
"You'll get out soon. I'll see to it."
"Tati, the only electives left when I went to register were metal shop, and midnfulness, so my roommate, the one who is reading tehillim, and I, signed up for metal shop."
"You're roommate is really reading tehillim."
"She reads them in English. She borrowed a Bible from the high school library."
"A goyishe Bible."
"A Christian Bible, but the Pslams are the same aren't they?"
"Yeah...if you're going to read them in English. Tikvah, the sooner we have you out of that useless school the better."
"I agree tati."
"Then you tell me when you're going to get out."
"I don't know yet. I'll  know later in the week."
"OK, you let me know."
"What if it's on Saturday."
"I spoke to a Rav and he said it was OK to drive to rescue a kidnapped child."
"OK,when I find out, I let you know. I love you tati."
"I love you Tikvah."

Marion pulled stepped out of Rapinoe-McConolly-Brinker and found that the sky had turned gray and weepy. "Why did I bother to dry off so carefully?" she thought. She did not check her cell pone. Instead, she sprinted through the downpour into Papke-Sienko where there was a line on the third floor. An older lady with tits like lethal weapons under a white, textured, sleeveless blouse poked her face out of one of the double classrooms and announced to the line that there were computer issues and the wait would be ten minutes.

"If you are waiting for a fifteen minute registration slot, ten minutes is a very long time," Marion realized. She found her cell phone and checked her messages.

"Marion, Police visited our sober home," her mother led off.

"We're trying to pass our tests and get this shit over with, so we were fine, except they tore up our rooms."

"Lenny got arrested. We won't be going out much, since he had a car and we don't."

Dad had texted: "Nothing to worry about. Our rooms passed inspection. Probably we'll get moved to a different home since our minders will consider this one a bad influence. Actually, they're all the same."

Marion told herself that her parents made their own temptation, and did not need anyone to lead them into it.They were just trying to get sprung. As long as that court date hung over their heads, they would probably be OK. Hopefully, they would be able to travel out of state after that and move to Malta or maybe to Westchester County. Malta, Marion realized, might be a lost cause for them. Nestor, Liza, and Jason were not one bit loyal.  They could keep Uncle Niles and Aunt Judith, and the vultures of an aunt and uncle could keep the stupid, younger siblings too.

Marion thought about calling or texting the lawyer Uncle Niles and Aunt Judith had found for her parents. Then she realized that with adults, email was a better choice. "Hey move your butt!" snarled a boy parked behind Marion. They were inching closer to the library.

"I guess I have to register first," Marion thought wearily. Registration felt like a chore, because it was one. She checked to see if there was an opening in general art in the alternative spot for electives. There was one opening left. She wondered if Zia had taken one of the openings. She remembered Zia dutifully swimming kick board laps and putting as much sweat into it as one can put into anything done in chlorinated water. Yes, Zia had grabbed a place in art class. That meant, Marion, had a small piece of luck.

She waited for her registration to go through. The school lap top whirred and Marion realized it had hung. There might not even be that place in art. The computers, after all were pretty ephed up. The lady with pointy breasts, came over to check.

"It's just spinning," complained Zia.

Bullet breasts hit the F5 key several times. Nothing happened, and then a warning pop up appeared. "Need to resend data." "Click OK," bullets for breasts advised. Marion clicked OK. The computer hung again but then the registration went through. "It's just slow that's all."

"Is it really through?" asked Marion.

"Open your app. You'll see your schedule."

Marion checked. She had art. Zia had art. Now if Niles and Judith's lawyer didn't move her parents somewhere godawful, Marion would have one humongous, lucky streak.

Albina and the rest of the suite was in the front of the big gym in Rapinoe-Conolly-Brinker instead of the back because the big, blonde Suite Advisor who liked volley ball's girls had gotten there first and gotten all the crab scooters and were scooting and belly whopping in laps. The scooters looked like fun, but there were a dozen of them and the big blonde Suite Advisor had already invited another girl's group to share while the four girls left out, played jump rope.

There were of course many jump ropes and when Albina tied a knot in a big rope, they could play Little George Washington. Little George Washington was akin to Concentration. You had to run through the rope, make two 180 degree turns, and run out, all the while completing the rhyme: "Little George Washington never told a lie. He ran around the corner and he stole a _____ Pie." You had to keep coming up with new flavors for the pie just like in Concentration.

Tikvah settled her big book about light on the folded up mats near the bleachers and joined the game getting in line. There are not that many kinds of pies in the world which makes the game sputter out fairly quickly. By the time it was Corianne's turn, cherry, apple, pizza, and quite a few other pies were gone. She jumped in and called out. "Little George Washington never told a lie. He ran around the corner and he stole a mince meat pie."

"What's a mince meat pie?" asked Nelia?. "It's made from nuts and raisins and bits of venison and spices," Corianne answered.

"Do people eat that for dessert?"

"If people eat swine's flesh, they eat anything," Tikvah told herself realizing she was the next victim.

"Yeah and it's gross but it's a real thing," Corianne answered. Gross or not, Corianne was still in the game.

Then it was Tikvah's turn. "Little George Washington never told a lie..." She did her first jump "He ran around the corner and he stole a poppy seed pie."

No one was sure if poppy seed pies existed, and hamentaschen did not count, so Tikvah was out of the game. She got a chance to bury herself in her book on light, until Albina called out... "Come on... we're going to play kick ball."

It was eight on eight kick ball, with the Suite Advisors pitching. This time an African American Suite Advisor in lime green pedal pushers, and with hair made stiff with spray wanted to play Al-Saigh 11B. The Suite Advisor seemed a cheerful chatty sort. Albina liked to chirp back. Then Albina suggested Jupita pitch and she'd play in the outfield. Corianne and Tikvah found themselves in the out field to, but on opposite sides. Outside the sky had turned from blue to a kind of hazy silver. The grass smelled dry and sad. The soccer field was empty, so the Suite Advisors and their charges took it over for kick ball.

Albina let the African American Suite Advisor whose name was Constance have the home team advantage which meant waiting in a retched batting order where you couldn't read or use your cell phone. They had played this game a bit in bais yackov and a lot in Brooklyn. Tikvah hated it. She waited until she became  a victim, but only seven girls got up to bat and then it was time to pray a ball did not reach her.

It was an eternity in the out field, that ended too quickly because it was time for Tikvah to get walked or struck out, except in kick ball there were no walks unless the ball did not cross the plate. Those were Brooklyn rules. Anyway, Constance made sure the ball crossed the plate. She also caught the ball and threw it to the first baseman who tagged Tikvah out.

Corianne got up to bat next and the team was down by two. "This game sucks," Corianne told her friend. Yes, they were friends, bonded over the belief you could possibly get close to God, their fondness for books, and their hatred of stupid games. It took only four players to retire the side.

They were going to play this stupid game for seven innings. In the bottom of the second, Corianne's luck ran out. She had to chase a ball almost to the woods and needless to say Constance' team was now ahead by three runs. This was going to be a slaughter, and Tikvah was sure that both she and Corianne would get blamed.

Still nobody said anything vile when it was time to line up to get up to bat again, and this time two girls got on base and two were out, and that left Tikvah to give the ball as hard a kick as she knew how and to run. "Run! Run!" she heard  other girls shouting. She could see the firsts base woman's hands were empty. She ran over the base, tripped and slid on the dirt. She felt something tear and sting as she got up.

"I could get out of this stupid game and go to the nurse," thought Tikvah as she examined her torn tights and skinned knee. "Attagirl!" called out Albina in awful mock excitement. Bases were now loaded. Corianne was up to bat. Tikvah knew how it would end. Corianne was tagged out at first retiring the side and leaving the poor girl to blame.

"This is what I hate about kick ball," thought Tikvah and she imagined a long talk with her father about the non-Jewish game. Of course Jewish boys played baseball and kickball was little kids baseball.

Fortunately, the retched game eventually ended. Al-Sigh 11-B scored four runs and Al-Sigh 11-C, scored twelve. "It was a route," recounted Corianne. "It was a slaughter," opined Jupita. "We were creamed" added Nelia . "My dad said that's short for crem-ated."

"At least everyone here was a good sport about it," chirped Albina who was back in mora mode.

"Can we wash our hands before lunch?" asked Tikvah.

Corianne was a quick study and the two of them found their way into the bathroom. Most of the other girls wanted to pee first. "You know what we're doing this afternoon," Corianne told her friend.

"This is school. There's no way out of some things," Tikvah reminded her as Suri with the beautiful braids emerged from a stall.

"We did it!" proclaimed a relieved Corianne.

"We have to be back in the gym soon," Tikvah reminded her roommate.

"So what... it's a break. We need a break."

"It's not going to be for long, or we'll be in trouble."

"Doesn't matter. Any break is good. Besides I'm getting that Bible. Remember what we discussed last night."

"Yeah... but you're going to be reading in English."

"So..."

"I guess it's OK."

The high school building, one of three high school buildings, but the one they needed called Crosby-Magnoni Hall, was three stories tall. It was nearly empty because school hadn't started yet. The library was up on the third floor. It was a big space with computers, monopolized by boys playing some sort of game with crude graphics. They gathered around their machines with quiet intensity.

It took Corianne several minutes to realize she did not know thing one about finding a Bible. She decided to ask the librarian, a skinny middle aged lady in a blue dress. "What sort of Bible do you need?" she asked Corianne.

"One with Psalms in it."

"Any particular translation?"

"I'm not sure."

The librarian recommended the New American Standard, and yes, it had a New Testament. She said it was a good translation, modern but with enough poetry to make the Psalms beautiful. Something beautiful could be spiritual, Corianne thought. She signed out the Bible, meanwhile Tikvah had wandered off.

Corianne stepped into the hall, but Tikvah was not there. She came back inside and found Tikvah signing out a coffee table book about light. It was an adults book despite the pictures. She carried her prize under her arm as she and Corianne walked as slowly as they could back to the gym.

"We're stuck with games again," Corianne complained.

"Didn't I tell you."

"Maybe if we ask Albina nicely she'll let us read."

Tikvah did not reply. The girl was lost in her own thoughts. At least, thought, Corianne, she was not weeping, even though both of them would be bored to tears by lunch.