The World Outside (7 page)

“I changed my mind. I want to do something else.”

I joined Faygie at the back of the scenery line.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “You’re in the wrong line. This is for painting scenery.”

“I changed my mind about singing. I want to paint.”

Faygie eyed me with mild suspicion, but she didn’t say anything.

It took several minutes, but finally all the girls had chosen their activities and returned to their spots on the floor. Mrs. Weiss walked around the hall and removed the sign-up sheets from the walls.

“I know from experience that everything goes more smoothly if each group has a team leader.” She looked at each list in turn. “Levia Minsky will be in charge of the writers, Pearl Schwartz of the actresses, Yaffa Neiman of the dancers, Yehudit Korman of the singers and Chanie Altman of the painters.”

An excited murmur broke out among the girls. I turned to Faygie to tell her how much fun we were going to have working together, but the words died on my lips when I noticed how flushed she was. She seemed on the verge of tears.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Why are you crying?” Devorah Leah asked.

“I’m not!”

“I don’t want to be team leader,” I said quickly. “I’m too busy helping Mama with Moishe to come to all the meetings. And, anyway, you’re better at organizing things. I’ll tell Mrs. Weiss that you want the job.”

“Don’t you dare!” She stood up abruptly. “I don’t understand why you always get picked for everything! I’m a much better artist than you!”

Her face was full of fury. It was like looking at a stranger. She rushed out of the gym, with both Devorah Leah and me staring after her.

When I got home, Mama was mending socks in the kitchen and Papa was at the table, a book propped up in front of him as he drank his soup.

“You’re late!” Mama said in greeting. Papa didn’t even look up.

“I was at the meeting for the senior girls’ play. And guess what happened? I was chosen team leader for the painting crew!”

“It’s a waste of your time,” Mama said. “And who’ll take care of Moishe if you’re not home after school? I can’t do my work if I have to watch him. Weltner gave me fifteen new files, and I have to type them before Shabbos. We need the money.”

“But all the girls in my class will be in the play!”

“Well, you won’t be.” She glanced at me calmly and returned to her sewing.

I stood there, spluttering with rage. As usual, she was freezing me out with her silence—but not this time!

“You’re being mean, just like always!” I screamed. “I help you more than any of my friends help their mothers. I love Moishe, but sometimes I want to be free!”

“How dare you speak to me in this tone!” she thundered, her needle paused in midair.

Papa looked up from his book, amazement written on his face. Rarely had any of us heard Mama yell.

“Miriam,” he said evenly, “the girl is young. She wants to do what her friends are doing. We were young too once,” he added in a teasing tone. “Remember that?”

Mama took a deep breath. “All right,” she finally said. “You may participate in the play—but it’s against my better judgment.”

“Oh, thank you!” I extended my arms in a hug but dropped them when I saw the frosty look on her face. “Thank you very much!” I mumbled instead.

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “It’s to your father that you owe your gratitude.”

Faygie was waiting for me in front of my house when I left for school the next morning.

“You have a nerve coming here!” I cried.

“I’m sorry I acted like an idiot yesterday,” she said solemnly. “I let my vanity get the best of me. It’s not your fault that Mrs. Weiss picked you instead of me. You’ll make a great team leader.”

I was tempted to point out that Mrs. Weiss wouldn’t necessarily have asked her even if she hadn’t chosen me—after all, there were seven other girls in our group—but I decided not to say anything. Nor did I tell her that I wasn’t able to sleep the night before because I kept on thinking about how angry she was.

“Forget about yesterday,” I said instead. “I already have.”

She hugged me, but as I hugged her back, I couldn’t help remembering the venom in her expression as she’d rushed out of the gym.

CHAPTER 7

A
week later it was Passover, my absolute favorite holiday of the year. I loved everything about it—our festive seders with their special foods and the reading of the Haggadah, which told the story of our people’s liberation from slavery in Egypt. Most of all, I loved the time off from school. During Passover, my school had organized a roller-skating party for senior students in an arena in Borough Park, a short drive from Crown Heights. The school had rented buses to take us there, and best of all, we didn’t have to wear our uniforms!

I stared into my closet for a really long time before deciding that I had absolutely nothing suitable for roller-skating. Finally, I pulled out a long gray skirt made of flannel. As I looked at it more closely, I couldn’t help sighing. I rarely wore it because it made me look so fat! The material was gathered at the waistband in a way that was very unflattering, but at least that gave
me lots of room to move about. It was a long skirt, reaching almost to my ankles, but I could roll up the waistband until it barely covered my knees. A few girls in my class wore skirts and dresses of this length, but Mama always made me wear clothes that covered most of my legs. “Modesty is the most important attribute of a Lubavitcher girl,” she kept telling me.

I teamed the skirt with gray knee-highs and a red sweater, then climbed on top of my bed to catch a glimpse of myself. The skirt billowed around me in a satisfying manner and the sweater did something for my complexion. I pulled my long hair into a ponytail and sat down on the edge of my bed, waiting until the last possible moment to leave.

Finally, it was time. On my way out, I stuck my head into the kitchen. As usual, Mama was at the stove, stirring a pot.

“Bye! I have to go now!”

She turned around and placed the wooden spoon she was holding on the counter. “Come here.”

“I’m late.”

“Not that late.”

I went into the kitchen. “I’m going to miss the bus,” I protested.

Please, please, please don’t let her notice my skirt
, I begged Hashem. But I guess Hashem was busy with more important things.

“Are you planning to go out of the house looking like that? Have you lost your mind?”

“Lots of girls wear their skirts this length.”

“Not my daughter,” she said in a determined voice. “Roll your skirt down. Do you want your thighs to show when you twirl around on your skates? What would people think?”

“But, Mama, I won’t be able to roller-skate if my skirt is so long! I’ll trip!”

“Better that you fall down once or twice than have people think you’re immodest. Honestly, Chanie, lower your skirt or you can stay home and miss skating altogether.”

I rolled down the waistband. It felt as if twenty pounds had settled on my hips.

“Drink it!” She handed me a glass of milk. “You can’t leave on an empty stomach.”

By the time I got to school, the girls were already boarding the yellow buses.

Faygie stuck her head out of the window of the last bus. “Come here, Chanie! We’re saving you a seat.”

I climbed in and was greeted by the hum of excited chatter.

“I was worried that you’d miss the bus,” Devorah Leah said when I took the seat next to her.

Faygie was across the aisle from us. She leaned toward
me and whispered, “You won’t believe the length of Rishe’s skirt! You can actually see her knees when she’s sitting down!”

“You’re just jealous,” Devorah Leah said to her. “Rishe will have an easier time skating than we will.” She scrunched up the hem of her long skirt to demonstrate her point.

“I rolled up the waistband of my skirt to hike it up,” I said. “But Mama wouldn’t let me out of the house until I rolled it back down. I’m going to roll it up again as soon as we arrive at the rink.”

“I’m surprised at you, Chanie! You’ve changed,” Faygie said. “Hasidism is so beautiful, yet you keep breaking the rules—talking to that boy in the mall, hiking up your skirt and hanging around with one of those blacks! Count me out if you do that again.”

I was saved from having to reply by Mrs. Weiss calling for attention.

“We’ll be at the roller rink in a few minutes, everybody,” she cried. “When we get there, I want you all to show how well behaved the Bais Rivkah girls are. No yelling, please. Keep your voices down. You will be lining up in pairs to have your hands stamped.”

A murmur broke out among the girls.

“Don’t worry. I’ve arranged to have female ushers stamp your hands,” she said. “Mrs. Potash and I will pay your entry fees.”

She proceeded down the aisle of the bus counting heads.

As soon as the bus stopped, I hiked up my skirt again, although not as high as before.
Even Mama would approve
, I told myself, but I knew it wasn’t true. Devorah Leah followed my example.

We filed into the roller rink. It was empty except for the Bais Rivkah students, for the school had rented the arena for the entire afternoon. Several of the girls immediately began to skate to the raucous music blaring from the loudspeakers.

“It’s the Rolling Stones,” Devorah Leah said excitedly.

“How do you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “How do you think? Let’s go.”

We skated around the rink and passed Mrs. Weiss, who was standing at the entrance talking to an attendant. I saw her give him a small package. The man hurried away, and a minute later the Rolling Stones stopped mid-scream. They were replaced by the mellifluous tones of the Lubavitcher singer Avraham Fried.

“Play the other song! Put on the other tape!” called out several of the girls, including me.

Avraham Fried kept on singing.

Faygie grabbed my hand, and we circled the rink over and over again until I was dizzy and couldn’t stop laughing. Devorah Leah pulled me to the side to demonstrate the dance steps she could do on her skates.

“You’re the best!” I said.

“Not bad. My sister Goldie taught me.”

She lowered her voice and I couldn’t hear her over the din of the arena.

“What did you say?”

She leaned close. “The next time you see Jade, can I come along? I’ve been thinking that it would be fun to meet a black girl who’s close to our age. I see them on the streets all the time, but I’ve never talked to one of them.”

“You’ll like her a lot. She’s really smart. She goes to college, and she’s always talking about things I’ve never even thought about. I’ll let you know the next time we’ll get together.”

CHAPTER 8

S
uddenly, a loud noise rang in my ear.

“Chanie! Wake up!”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Mama was standing at the foot of my bed.

“What’s the matter?” I glanced at the clock on the bureau. “It’s only eight o’clock and it’s Sunday!”

“I need your help,” she said. “We’re out of apples, and I want to bake a pie for Moishe before going into the City this afternoon.”

“The City? Again?” The words just slipped out.

“Mind your manners and get up!” She slapped the footboard with her palm. “I want you to go to Goldblatt’s and buy a few apples.”

Sleep had loosened my tongue. “Mama, take me to the City when you go. I want to go to the opera with you once. You know how much I love music.”

I clamped my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t believe the words had slipped out.

Mama’s expression turned icy. “Instead of always thinking of your own pleasures, you should be focusing on how the Rebbe wants you to behave,” she shouted.