Reading about school and attending one are two very, very different matters
The lines in London’s Heathrow airport are crawling.
Mrs. Chaimowitz turns and gives me a sympathetic smile. I shrug in return. We’ve been traveling forever anyway, what’s an extra hour here or there?
“It’s short compared to the plane ride, but I’m sure you just want to get to your grandparents’ house already and have a good night’s sleep,” Mrs. Chaimowitz says. Okay, creepy, can she actually read my mind? Or is there something about traveling across the world with people that turns strangers into — well, maybe not friends, but at least allies of some kind?
Mrs. C. is still looking at me, an expectant half-smile on her face. Oh, gosh, say something, Ashira.
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