No One Must Know (15 page)

“Hi,” he whispered.

“You’re late. The rabbi is going to kill you!” Jacob said. “Rabbi Goltzman is our teacher at religious school,” he explained to me. “He expects us to come early for services. Alex,” he added, “I want you to meet Shane. He’s on my bowling team.”

“Luckily for you,” the boy said, slapping Jacob on the back. “Jake told me that you’d be coming to synagogue. Do you like it?”

“I don’t know. It’s different from what I expected. Is it always so noisy?”

“Always!” He looked around the sanctuary, “Where are your parents?” he asked Jacob,

“They’ll be here soon, Marnie too,”

“Does Marnie go to religious school as well?” I asked.

“She’ll be starting next year,” He groaned. “I’m sure that Mom will expect me to take care of her.” His face brightened and he said, “Why don’t you come with me? The classes are interesting, and Rabbi Goltzman is a good teacher.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know …”

“Well, think about it,” he said. He took a prayer book from a shelf attached to the back of the pew in front of us. “I’d better pay attention. Rabbi Goltzman gets mad if we goof off.”

He handed me another prayer book and opened it for me near the back. It was filled with letters I couldn’t read.

“It’s written in Hebrew,” he explained. “We read the prayer book back to front, and each line from right to left.”

“Hello, Jacob, Alexandra,” somebody behind us said in a frosty voice. It was Mrs. Pearlman. Jacob’s family had arrived. They sat down beside us.

“You’re late,” Jacob said.

“Marnie had trouble getting up,” Mr. Pearlman said.

The girl gave him an angry look, but before she could answer, the entire congregation stood up. I stood up with
them. Everybody around us began to sing. One of the men at the podium pulled aside the drapes of the cabinet and swung open its doors to reveal several velvet-covered cylindrical objects decorated with beautiful silver crowns and silver shields. The rabbi took one of the large cylinders out of the cabinet.

“He’s taking out the Torah,” Jacob whispered. “They’ll be reading from it.”

I let the words of the compelling hymn wash over me. They made me feel as if I had just woken up from a deep slumber and was swimming in an emerald sea full of possibilities. The music embraced me, soaking into every pore of my being until I was lost in an ocean of waves, each different and unique but all coming together as one. The sea of music was strange and comforting at the same time. I felt at peace, as if I was a traveler who had just returned from a long voyage to a home she hardly recognized. My heart was filled with longing and confusion.

I was startled when Jacob tapped me on the shoulder. The two-hour service had passed in a haze.

“It’s over,” he said as he folded his prayer shawl. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.” He turned to Shane. “You come too,” he said.

“Thanks, but I can’t. My mom is expecting me.”

Jacob’s parents were already on their way out the door, leaving without saying goodbye. Only Marnie turned
back to us, waving before her mother yanked on her arm to hurry her up.

“Do you mind if I take a raincheck?” I said to Jacob. “It was a lot to take in for the first time. I want to go home and think about everything I saw.”

“I wish you’d come, but I understand,” he said. “How about coming to see me bowl next week, on Sunday afternoon? It’s my BBYO team’s final game. We have a good chance for the cup.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Where shall I meet you?”

“I’ll pick you up at two. We’re bowling at Grosvenor Lanes. We can take the bus. It stops right in front.”

J
acob arrived half an hour early. His face was flushed and he seemed excited as he greeted us.

“So, Jacob, Alexandra tells us that today is your big game,” Mom said. “Are you nervous?”

“I just don’t want to let my team down,” Jacob said. “If we win, we’ll be awarded the trophy for our division.”

“I’m sure you’ll do your best,” Dad said.

“I have to talk to you,” Jacob mouthed behind my parents’ backs.

“I’d like Jacob to help me with a math problem,” I announced. “Let’s go down to the rec room. I left my school bag down there.” For Mom and Dad’s benefit, I
added, “We only have a few minutes before we have to leave.”

I turned on the lights at the bottom of the stairs. Jacob sprawled on one of the orange beanbag chairs, and I perched on the edge of the couch. He looked rather pleased with himself but didn’t say a word.

I broke the silence. “So what did you want to tell me?”

He reached into his pocket and took out a small package wrapped in shiny blue paper. He put it into my hand and wrapped my fingers around it. “I bought you a present,” he said.

I was so surprised that I couldn’t find the right words. “It’s so nice of you,” I finally stammered, tearing off the wrapping to reveal a black velvet box. Inside glimmered a delicate silver chain with a small six-pointed star hanging from it. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.” I hugged and kissed him.

“It’s a Star of David – a Jewish star,” he said. “Let me put it on you.”

I lifted my ponytail and he fastened the chain around my neck. I walked up to the mirror behind the wet bar in the corner of the room to admire myself. The star glistened brightly against my pink mohair sweater.

“I’d better hide it away for now,” I told him.

He nodded. “Good idea. You don’t want everybody wondering why you have a Magen David.”

I traced the sharp outline of the star with my fingers, then slipped it below the collar of my sweater. It clinked against the gold cross that was already resting at the base of my throat.

Jacob stood up. “We have to get going or we’ll be late,” he said.

The bus stopped right in front of Grosvenor Lanes. Groups of chattering kids of all ages were streaming into the building. “Welcome to Our 15th Annual Roll-Off!” proclaimed a large banner on one wall of the spacious lobby. A lunch counter was attached to an adjacent wall. All the stools in front of it were occupied by hungry bowlers wolfing down hot dogs and guzzling bottles of Coca-Cola.

“We’re playing against a team from St. Mark’s Tech,” Jacob said. “Let’s see which alley we’ve drawn.”

We walked up to a large board in the corner of the hall. Jacob ran his finger down the side of the schedule.

“Here we are. Lane one is ours.”

Wide double doors led us into the bowling alley. Jacob had his own bowling shoes, but I had to rent a pair for a nickel. His team was waiting for him by lane one. I was glad to see Shane’s friendly face.

“Why are you so late?” he asked. “We were worried that you wouldn’t get here on time.” While he talked to Jacob, the rest of their teammates were staring at me.

“I stopped off at Alex’s place first,” Jacob said.

“It’ll be nice to have a cheerleader around,” said a short boy with heavy-duty acne and an infectious smile. Like his teammates, he was wearing a light blue sweater with a white Star of David on the back and the words “B’Nai B’rith Tigers” above it.

Jacob took an identical sweater out of his gym bag and pulled it over his shirt. I sat down on a bench next to a rack of five-pin bowling balls while he introduced me to the rest of the boys – Sam, the one with the infectious smile; a tall, pale boy called David; and a fat, short one whose name was Adam.

“Did you hear anything about those gorillas?” asked Jacob, nodding his head in the direction of the neighboring lane.

The five boys gathering there were much taller and heavier than Jacob and his friends. They wore orange T-shirts that declared them to be the St. Mark’s Tech Strikers.

“They seem older than us,” said Shane, “but they must be in grade nine, like we are, or they wouldn’t be in our division.”

“St. Mark’s is a technical school for problem kids who flunked out of regular school,” Adam said. “They’ve probably all repeated a grade.”

“I heard that they’re great bowlers, especially the guy with the ducktail,” said Sam, pointing to a tall, heavy-set blond boy with a pockmarked face. “His name is Steve Robinson. He’ll be bowling against you, Jacob.”

The pinsetters appeared on their ledges, and a whistle blew.

“Time to get to work,” Jacob said.

Shane was our lead-off. It was immediately obvious that he was outranked by the pimply-faced Striker bowling next to him. At the end of the game, Jacob and Steve Robinson, the anchors, faced off. Jacob’s near-perfect game was matched by Robinson’s, and St. Mark’s led with 1210 pins to our 1190. The Strikers howled and thumped one another on the back.

“You’d think they’d already won,” Jacob complained. “But we’ve got four more games to play. Let’s show them what we’re made of!”

In the second game, we beat the Strikers 1190 to 1180. Game three was a draw, with 1230 points earned by each team. By the fourth game, I could see that the Tigers were getting nervous. While we waited for the pinsetters to clean up the deadwood, Jacob leaned over to Shane and said: “Go get ’em!”

Shane’s face was shiny with sweat. He took three long steps forward and threw a beautiful hook, knocking down all the pins except the head pin. The Strikers’ lead-off answered with two strikes in a row. By the end of the game, we were down a total of fifty-seven pins.

“It looks hopeless,” muttered Sam as we waited for the pinboy to reset the pins. “They’re better than us.”

“We’re as good as they are!” Jacob replied fiercely.

Sam stood up. “I’ll do my best not to let you down, guys,” he said, squaring his shoulders.

But his best wasn’t good enough. By the time Jacob stood up for the last frame of the final game, we were still trailing the Strikers by eight pins.

“Good luck,” I called to him.

Jacob’s face was calm, but I could see his shirt moving in rhythm to his pounding heart. He took five short steps forward, spreading his fingers around the ball as he lifted it to chest level and rotated it. His arm went back, then forward, and the ball thundered down the lane, knocking down all of the pins in its path.

“Strike! Strike!” The Tigers jumped up and down with joy.

I stomped my feet and called out, “Hooray! Hooray!”

Jacob did not seem to hear us. He was staring ahead with narrowed eyes, his concentration unbroken. He
was intent on bowling a perfect frame. Two more strikes followed.

“We’re leading by thirty-seven pins,” cried David. “We’ve got them!”

For the first time, I saw doubt creep into Jacob’s eyes. “They can still easily beat our score,” he said.

“They won’t,” said Adam.

Jacob hushed him as Steve Robinson took four steps forward and threw a beautiful hook shot. All the pins tumbled before it. His next ball was also a strike.

“We’re finished,” Shane said glumly.

Jacob was silent, waiting for the last ball to be thrown. Even I had to admire Steve’s form – perfect concentration, a beautiful delivery. His ball hurtled down the lane, and then we all heard the sickening crack of a punched head pin that left four others standing. Our team erupted in howls of joy. Steve was rigid, staring at the standing pins in disbelief. Then he began to curse, using words I did not even know existed. He turned toward us with an angry glare and stepped over into our lane. We all fell silent.

“Good game, man,” Jacob said to him, sticking out his hand.

The bigger boy pushed his hand aside and spat on Jacob’s shoes. “Kike!” he cried. “You were lucky. That’s why you won.”

Before I even knew what was happening, Jacob had jumped on Steve and knocked him to his knees. Then all of the boys in both alleys joined the fray. Within minutes, the Tigers were being devoured by the Strikers. Jacob was flat on his back with Steve on his chest, knocking his head into the gutter.

“You don’t look much like a winner to me now, Jew boy!” Steve snarled.

“Take it back!” Jacob repeated between merciless punches to his head.

Suddenly, Olga’s face swam in front of my eyes. Her lips were twisted into a sneer of hate. “I don’t work for kikes,” she hissed. Without giving myself the opportunity to think, I jumped on Steve’s back, my arms around his shoulders, my fists beating on his chest. “How dare you call Jacob names! How dare you, you creep!” I sputtered. As he tried to shake me off, Jacob rolled out from underneath him and began to pull himself up.

Just then, the manager of Grosvenor Lanes and his assistant appeared. They pried me off Steve and dropped me to the floor with a loud thud.

“Stop it! Stop it!” they yelled as they separated the fighting boys.

“He started it,” Steve said sullenly, pointing his finger at Jacob. By now, a crowd had gathered around us.

“He provoked me,” Jacob muttered.

“Nothing excuses such behavior,” the manager said, his face full of disgust. “I’m surprised at you, Pearlman. I thought you were a good kid.”

I pulled on the manager’s sleeve. “He insulted Jacob!” I said, pointing at Steve. “Jacob had no choice. He had to defend himself.”

The manager shook his head. “I don’t care who’s wrong and who’s right. Nothing excuses violence like that, and no trophy will be presented this year. I want you all out of here immediately!”