Party Woes

How can my secret remain mine, and mine alone, if it will soon be revealed for all to see at my bas mitzvah party?

A
s I doodled on a piece of lined paper torn out of a notebook, I had, without even realizing it, sketched a picture of a party, complete with streamers and banners and party decorations.

And the food!

Nosh and cakes and rolls and spreads. Fruit of every flavor and color. Chocolate cake and vanilla cake. But the centerpiece was the best of all — a big, seven-layer birthday cake with the words “Mazel Tov, Rochel” emblazoned on the top in pink icing.

Suddenly, the paper fluttered to the ground as I heard the heavy footfall of my teacher from behind. The heady scent of her perfume washed over me and I almost gagged as she bent over and hissed into my ear, “Where is that note you were passing?” I pointed a trembling finger at the floor and she bent down and picked up my drawing. She held it high above her head like a victory flag. Heedless of my arguments that it was only a sketch, she placed her long, spindly fingers on each side of the paper and began to tear it.

Rip, rip. The sound echoed in my ears, bounced around my brain.