“You don’t have to do it, mammele. It’s okay, the sponsors understand, it’s all tzedakah. Not an actual competition”
Rain.
Not just rain — a downpour. A heavy, pelting, world-melting storm complete with flashes of lightning. How, how did the weather forecast miss this, exactly?
“So I’ll call the van in a few minutes, okay?” Raizel is saying cheerfully, her chatter weaving in and out between the thrum of the rain. “We’ll have you home in no time.”
Wait. Home?
Nava’s chin snaps up. “Wait… we’re not going to finish the race? The storm’s for sure gonna pass.”
Raizel clucks her tongue. “Oh, zeeskeit, the ground is so wet. And it’s cold and you’re soaked.”
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