There is something so simultaneously degrading and devastating about being patronized by a fourteen-year-old
Devora looks up gratefully. “Could you? I keep forgetting which Rishonim were born when. Sara can memorize it all in a second. But I don’t have her memory.”
“You could ask her to study with you sometimes,” Perela suggests. “One of the perks to having a cousin in the same school.”
“We don’t hang out much in school.” Devora looks unhappy about it. “Sara’s way more social than me. She likes to spend time with everyone.”
“Hmm.” Perela keeps her thoughts to herself, but she’s pleased when Sara drifts into the room, too, and teaches Devora one of her memorization tricks. The girls used to be best friends at her house, inseparable, and it’s why she dares to say, “You know, the two of you are welcome to spend Shabbos here together.”
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