shore. And now she had a plan. There was no way her parents would ever let her go—she could imagine their conversation—her mother making that little shriek she made whenever anything upset her, her father stroking his moustache in that annoying way he had.
But that didn't matter. She had figured out how to make it happen anyway.
Rivka eased open her underwear drawer and felt around toward the back, drawing out an envelope with her name written on it. She had saved some money from her birthday and a little of what Bubbeh and Zayde had given her for Hanukah. Most of the cash they gave her had to go in the bank for college, but Bubbeh had convinced her parents to let her have a bit of "mad money", as she put it, to splurge with. So far she hadn't spent any of it, and now she was glad.
She was going to go to the mall and buy her first bikini. She wasn't about to be seen in that hideous one-piece suit her mother had bought her in Sears when she was trying for the third time to pass a beginner’s swimming class at the Y.
She slid the accumulated bills from the envelope, spread them out on her bed and counted them carefully. There was more than she realized. She fanned the money out in front of her and sniffed the well-worn bills. She was definitely going to have the best weekend of her life.
Rivka opened her desk, removed a glossy tri-fold brochure and smoothed it open carefully. The youth group at Elmwood Synagogue was holding its annual retreat the same weekend as Pamela’s beach weekend. Normally, before she met Pamela, Rivka would have been keen to go. Now she wouldn't want to be caught dead with nerds like Jacob Klein who was captain of the math team, or Ben Weis, who had placed first in the state science competition. As a matter of fact, she had already told her parents she refused to go. Her mother had given her little shriek, her father had stroked his moustache, but she'd held her ground. It was the first time she’d ever done that, and her parents had both looked so confused, wringing their hands and crying “ach” every few minutes. They’d even consulted Bubbeh and Zaydeh, but she’d refused to budge.
Her parents were going to be thrilled to find that they’d won after all—or so they would think. Rivka felt only a glimmer of guilt as she folded the brochure back up. It was her parent’s fault for being so narrow-minded and old-fashioned. She knew they wanted to protect her—but from what? The world had moved on, and things had changed. It was about time they realized it.
Rivka carried the pamphlet down to the kitchen where her mother was kneading dough for Friday night's challah.
"I've changed my mind." She put the brochure down on the table where her mother could see it. "I think I want to go on the retreat after all. You're right—it would be fun."
"Oh, bubbeleh," her mother put floured hands on either side of Rivka's face, "I knew you would change your mind. You didn't want to miss all the fun, eh?"
Sure, Rivka though. Real fun stuff like math competitions, a mock United Nations and watching Jacob Klein chew with his mouth open and get stuff all stuck to his braces. Who in their right mind would want to miss that?
"Leave the brochure here," her mother pointed to a spot on the table, "and I'll send them a check right away."
"That’s okay." Rivka picked up the brochure and tucked it under her arm. "I had some money saved so I got a money order and sent it in myself. I didn't want to miss the deadline and maybe not get in or something." Rivka crossed her fingers behind her back as if that would make it okay that she was lying to her mother.
"Ah, my bubeleh," her mother tapped her head. "Always thinking!" She slapped the dough on the table and turned it over. "Remind me, and when I go to the bank, I'll get the cash and pay you
But that didn't matter. She had figured out how to make it happen anyway.
Rivka eased open her underwear drawer and felt around toward the back, drawing out an envelope with her name written on it. She had saved some money from her birthday and a little of what Bubbeh and Zayde had given her for Hanukah. Most of the cash they gave her had to go in the bank for college, but Bubbeh had convinced her parents to let her have a bit of "mad money", as she put it, to splurge with. So far she hadn't spent any of it, and now she was glad.
She was going to go to the mall and buy her first bikini. She wasn't about to be seen in that hideous one-piece suit her mother had bought her in Sears when she was trying for the third time to pass a beginner’s swimming class at the Y.
She slid the accumulated bills from the envelope, spread them out on her bed and counted them carefully. There was more than she realized. She fanned the money out in front of her and sniffed the well-worn bills. She was definitely going to have the best weekend of her life.
Rivka opened her desk, removed a glossy tri-fold brochure and smoothed it open carefully. The youth group at Elmwood Synagogue was holding its annual retreat the same weekend as Pamela’s beach weekend. Normally, before she met Pamela, Rivka would have been keen to go. Now she wouldn't want to be caught dead with nerds like Jacob Klein who was captain of the math team, or Ben Weis, who had placed first in the state science competition. As a matter of fact, she had already told her parents she refused to go. Her mother had given her little shriek, her father had stroked his moustache, but she'd held her ground. It was the first time she’d ever done that, and her parents had both looked so confused, wringing their hands and crying “ach” every few minutes. They’d even consulted Bubbeh and Zaydeh, but she’d refused to budge.
Her parents were going to be thrilled to find that they’d won after all—or so they would think. Rivka felt only a glimmer of guilt as she folded the brochure back up. It was her parent’s fault for being so narrow-minded and old-fashioned. She knew they wanted to protect her—but from what? The world had moved on, and things had changed. It was about time they realized it.
Rivka carried the pamphlet down to the kitchen where her mother was kneading dough for Friday night's challah.
"I've changed my mind." She put the brochure down on the table where her mother could see it. "I think I want to go on the retreat after all. You're right—it would be fun."
"Oh, bubbeleh," her mother put floured hands on either side of Rivka's face, "I knew you would change your mind. You didn't want to miss all the fun, eh?"
Sure, Rivka though. Real fun stuff like math competitions, a mock United Nations and watching Jacob Klein chew with his mouth open and get stuff all stuck to his braces. Who in their right mind would want to miss that?
"Leave the brochure here," her mother pointed to a spot on the table, "and I'll send them a check right away."
"That’s okay." Rivka picked up the brochure and tucked it under her arm. "I had some money saved so I got a money order and sent it in myself. I didn't want to miss the deadline and maybe not get in or something." Rivka crossed her fingers behind her back as if that would make it okay that she was lying to her mother.
"Ah, my bubeleh," her mother tapped her head. "Always thinking!" She slapped the dough on the table and turned it over. "Remind me, and when I go to the bank, I'll get the cash and pay you
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