It’s not an option to refuse. That’s the only reason I nod stiffly and follow her down the hallway
As told to Rochel Samet
“How’d you find the quiz?” Shana asks me after math class.
My stomach turns. “Ugh. It was awful. I hardly studied.”
“Yeah, I tried calling you last night,” Shana says in an offhanded voice. I know my best friend — she’s offended. But honestly, between collapsing for two hours after walking home and being bullied by Henny into cleaning up, and then spending half the night on the floor crying from dizziness and pain in random parts of my body, I just didn’t have the time or energy for algebraic fractions.
“Sorry,” I say. “I wasn’t feeling great…”
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.
