The trip had been the only thing in school this year that Yudi had spoken about with enthusiasm. Losing it must be crushing
“Morning,” Naftali greets Yudi as he climbs onto the bus. There is something odd about the way Yudi moves today; his walk across the lawn had been stilted, and now he clutches his knapsack to him.
Yesterday, he’d been furious. He hadn’t gone to class at all — that Naftali had seen. Instead, he’d stalked through the halls and out in the fields, his fists clenched and a pall of fury settled over his face. On the way home he hadn’t spoken, just sat behind Naftali with his eyes like embers.
Naftali knows how excited Yudi had been for the trip, how it had been the only thing in school this year that Yudi had spoken about with enthusiasm. Losing it must be crushing. Naftali had mentioned it to Chana, who had been more sanguine about it. It’ll feel like the end of the world for a few days, then he’ll move on. Kids are resilient. She’d looked up at him with a wry smirk. And it does sound like he needed a bit of a potch.
Maybe. But Chana doesn’t see what Naftali does: the empty house, the dull eyes, the way that Yudi has nothing and no one to lean on. Naftali’s always been a touch soft, and he’s sure that Yudi more than anyone needs a gentle approach.
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