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Ifinger the doorknob and turn it slightly. It’s locked — figures. I slink away before she discovers me loitering. I know I can technically go onto the porch and peek through the window shade slats; I’ve done it before. But I’ve already seen enough, and don’t want to see any more.

An hour later, Ma stumbles into the kitchen as I sip a smoothie and peruse my Chumash notes. I don’t need to look up to see her vacant stare as she robotically gathers the ingredients for supper. Ugh, the noise is irking me. I gather up my things and head onto the patio. Hands full, I kick the sliding door closed behind me. It slams with a bang that echoes satisfyingly. It’s too humid for October, and I’m sure to make a feast for the mosquitos. But the welcome silence is all I need. Settling onto the chaise lounge, I lift the smoothie to my lips. Somehow, though it’s my favorite strawberry-pineapple-orange blend, it tastes bitter.

Ugh, where’s my blue zebra pen? I root around in my bag. My fingers fumble through wrappers and fidget toys and scraps of paper. Yuck, what a mess. And just a month into school! Around me, the clamor ricochets off the ceiling as the class wraps up recess and prepares for the Chumash test. I make a split-second decision and turn my knapsack over, watching an avalanche of papers, snacks, and random junk tumble into my lap.

“Chava, what are you doing?” my friend Tzippy shrieks.

I shrug. “I can’t live with messes. Don’t worry, I’ll make it fast.”

“But Mrs. Schlesinger will be here any second!” she protests. “She’s gonna be fuming mad if she catches you like this.”