Hill of Secrets: An Israeli Jewish mystery novel by Michal Hartstein

childhood. He was a super normal guy, even a little bit of a nerd. If anything, out of the two of them, she was the violent one. Not that, God forbid, I think she was able of committing murder, but he was kind of ‘whipped’. Like, during that vacation, we saw them at breakfast in the dining room a few times. She gave him the runaround. I remember I joked with my husband that I should act a little more like Hanni, then maybe he'd appreciate me."
    "Sounds like you had a pretty robust opinion of her."
    "Don't get me wrong, I have a life and Hanni was definitely not part of it, but I admit that after that incident in the North and that episode in the playground, I was intrigued by the woman. Seeing a person so self-involved—that's not something you see every day."
    When Orit's interrogation was over I was exhausted. The station was almost empty, a calm quiet enveloping it. I made myself a cup of coffee and treated myself to a chocolate bar from the vending machine near the entrance.
    I sat down in my quiet office and looked despondently at the permanent mess covering my table. I took out the picture of Hanni and me that I found in the photo album; Hanni's beaming smile compared to my forced smile. It was interesting that I didn't remember us going up together to receive our diplomas. Frankly, I didn't remember too many details from high school, which were not exactly the best years of my life.
    I was far from being a social creature. I was never invited to parties that I know were thrown here and there in the houses of my classmates. There were also these gatherings at Hanni's house, which I never got to be a part of. My social world consisted of my Convent friends, who were a bit more social than I was.
    I was an excellent student, but this fact didn't make me teacher’s pet. I was what a religious high school would call a “rebellious student." My only rebellion was my stern refusal to go to morning prayers and the fact that, throughout all of my high school years, I continually argued with my Bible study teachers. I recalled "marital relations" class in junior year, when our teacher, a young woman who’d been married not long before, explained Halachot Nidda [rules concerning women's menstruation] to us with glimmering eyes, while stressing how beautiful the Jewish religion is and how it respects the woman.
    I couldn't keep quiet. I asked the young teacher, who was no more than five years my elder, how she could possibly say that the Jewish religion respects the Jewish woman when we women didn't even have the right to testify. I was a good student, but I had numerous examples I could use to prove to her that the Jewish religion is anything but equal and respecting. My young teacher was left speechless. Her reaction was the same as the reaction of any religious Jew who is proven wrong and shown that he's mistaken in his beliefs. She claimed I was taking things out of context and that I must look at the big picture. To this day, I can't understand this answer. The fact that, for instance, a woman can't testify, is very specific and doesn't belong to any big picture.
    And so, despite having the highest scores in the grade, each semester I was somehow passed over when diplomas were given out. When excellent students were sent on a delegation to England, they didn't even bother to offer it to me (Hanni was, of course, a member of the delegation); when excellent students were sent to a ceremony at the President's house, I wasn't there. The only time the school wanted to honor me was when they wanted to send me to a national mathematics competition. They knew they would have a better chance of succeeding if they sent me. I, of course, declined the honor. I didn't like the fact that they were reminded of my abilities only when they could be used to benefit the school.
    By my senior year, my rebelliousness reached its peak. I sternly refused to enter the lectures they organized about civil service. When my homeroom teacher asked