Twenty-seven girls banged closed their algebra books, zipped up their knapsacks, and pushed back their chairs with a clatter that reminded Fraidy of the thunder that rolled over the Rocky Mountains she’d left behind in Denver, six weeks ago. Twenty-six girls surged toward the door of the eighth-grade classroom.
“I’ll bring zebra-striped cupcake holders” said Suri in her high-pitched squeak.
“The oil and sugar are on me” saidSarah.
“I’ve got the best idea for a mask” someone else said.
Fraidy shrugged into her coat and listened as the wave of voices began to fade. Suddenly Shoshana was back standing in the doorway. “Hey Fraidy wanna bring cherries and sprinkles to decorate the cupcakes?” she asked with her usual gentle smile. “We’re meeting at four in my kitchen.” she added in case Fraidy had missed any of the discussion that had taken place all day long.
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