Maybe, just maybe, some good has come out of my no longer being able to dance
Oh, I’m sooo happy for you, I think sarcastically. Then I feel bad for my silent dig. I actually am happy for her, and besides, I’m the one who helped her get the dance head position. Not that I’d ever tell her that, not after she confessed to feeling like second best with the winter recital solo.
“That’s great, Tar,” I say.
She looks at me and then smiles. “And you’re the costume designer… It’s amazing how you had this whole other talent you never honed, no? Like, who knows what else you’re good at?”
I shrug. “Nah, that’s it, trust me.” I pat her glossy locks. “I wasn’t even that good at Fraidy’s course, though you totally aced it. Who has secret talents now?”
Atara flutters her eyelashes and we both laugh, although it feels a bit forced. I wonder if Atara feels it as well. So much has happened this year, to each of us personally, as well as between us. Will our friendship ever feel easy again?
This one’s in print. Some of our best stories live in the magazine — subscribe to get Mishpacha every week.