Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 28 of a new online serial novel, Divided Attention, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2010 by Israel Bookshop Publications

Another horrific night was behind them. After a twenty-minute ride, the motorbike stopped at the corner of the street and Rafi loosened his grip on Ronny’s shoulders.

“I’m getting off,” he said quietly as he slid to the sidewalk.

“Okay. You’ll get another message over the next few days.”

Rafi didn’t reply. He didn’t even turn around. He just walked silently past the silhouettes of the dark buildings. He could feel Ronny’s gaze piercing his back and was relieved when he finally heard the motorbike starting up again down the street.

Ronny was hardly thrilled with the noise, wishing, as he always did on such nights, that he could quiet the racket. He turned the motorbike around smoothly and quickly sped down the street. As he passed the corner, he did not notice the car with its headlights off, parked partially on the sidewalk, nor did he notice the man crouching behind it, trying to avoid detection. When Ronny had driven far enough away that the noise of his engine no longer jarred the stillness of the night, Aharon straightened up.

“He let him off somewhere,” he told the driver. “Drive there, straight down the street!”

“Hold it; it doesn’t go so fast. I just turned off the engine,” the driver protested. “You’re too quick for my car, mister!”

“What do you mean?” Aharon replied. “It’s only because of you and your car that I’ve gotten this far. Nu, are we going?”

“Yes, yes,” the driver said, somewhat mollified. “As fast as I can!”

The got there just in time to see the back of a kippah-clad boy disappearing into the entrance of one of the buildings.

“Wait here,” Aharon said for the umpteenth time that night and opened the car door again. He crept quietly down the stone path, trying to listen to any noise from the stairwell. He heard faint footsteps—very faint—and the rustle of a door closing.

“First or second floor, I believe,” he told the driver as he settled back into the upholstered seat. “Okay, let’s see. What do we do now?”

“Where to?” the driver asked. “Should we follow the motorbike? Or the four other boys, who most probably are long in their own homes? Or perhaps you want me to take you to the nearest police station?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 27 of a new online serial novel, Divided Attention, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2010 by Israel Bookshop Publications

Rabbi Paksher tossed his coat onto the nearest chair impatiently.

“David, can you please call Freund, the principal of Birchas HaTorah, for me?” he asked the new secretary and sank into his chair. “They had a break-in last night,” he added as he rose to pick up his forlorn coat and hang it on the hook.

“There, too?” David asked. “Believe me, sir, if I would have been the secretary at the time of the break-ins at this school, well, there wouldn’t have been any break-ins, on my honor!”

“I know that you’re very capable, David,” Reb Nechemia said with a smile, pushing all the paperwork on his desk over to one side. “But I didn’t know that your abilities are quite so broad.”

“Sure, sir!” David said, forgetting that he was supposed to be dialing Rabbi Freund’s number. “Me, if I would have seen an open window, I wouldn’t have let you leave it that way. An open window is an invitation for thieves, you know!”

“Small thieves,” Reb Nechemia agreed with a sigh and signed the first report card on the pile before him, glancing at the grades.

“Small, big, it makes no difference, sir! And I simply don’t understand the police! Why aren’t they doing anything? And now these vandals are just going from place to place and doing as they please!”

“You also think it’s a group?”

“Sure I do,” David said and looked at Reb Nechemia’s hands as he flipped one report card after another. “You can see the same methods repeating themselves. They get things dirty, do some damage, but hardly steal anything!” keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 26 of a new online serial novel, Divided Attention, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2010 by Israel Bookshop Publications

“Morah?” Nava said as she passed Ayala near the door.

“Yes, Nava?”

“Morah, uh…could it be that the journals are in the trash dumpster outside the front gate?”

“In the dumpster?” Ayala was surprised at the very idea.

“They were green, weren’t they?”

“Yes,” the teacher replied, her eyes squinting in concentration. “Why? Did you see something?”

“I peeked in there when I came this morning and I think I saw something that looked like green covers. Could they be the journals?”

“Perhaps,” Ayala said. “Come, let’s take a look.”

Nava hesitated. All she needed was for the girls spending their recess outside to see her and Morah Ayala striding together through the schoolyard and out the gate to begin rummaging in the garbage dumpster. If she was right, then at least she would be vindicated and everyone would understand the reason for their little foray. But what if she wasn’t right? And besides, she didn’t really want to be the topic of discussion as they searched, irrespective of whether their search turned anything up or not.

Ayala smiled, correctly interpreting her student’s hesitation. “Alright, Nava. Thank you for your attention. I’ll deal with it myself.”

Ita asked the janitor to go over to the huge green dumpster and use the mop stick to see if the journals were in there. He did as instructed, and after several long moments of being observed by an audience of gaping high-schoolers glued to the chain-link fence, the mop stick turned up a familiar green binding, sans papers.

“That’s it!” Ita said excitedly. “Do you see any papers, Mr. Shimshon?” she called.

“Yes, and there are a few more green books here, as well.”

He pulled out a pair of latex gloves and put them on. Then he hoisted himself onto the edge of the dumpster and stuck his hands inside the heap.

“Ugh!” Batya said to Nava as they stood watching at the fence. “How can he do that?”

“The way you say it, you would think that there are diapers and chicken bones there!” Nava retorted without taking her eyes off the cover that peeked out of the clear plastic bag the principal was holding. “After all, we’re just about the only ones who use that dumpster. The worst thing that could be there are a few empty chocolate milk bottles!” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 25 of a new online serial novel, Divided Attention, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2010 by Israel Bookshop Publications

The moon cast a dim glow on the dirt path, doing little to illuminate it. It was a tiny, end-of-the-month moon, trying valiantly to peek at what was going on down below, near a low building. Six figures stood at the edge of the courtyard, under a small awning.

“I hope they didn’t change the inside door,” Eddie said as he observed Shai, who was bent over working on the lock. “What will we do if the door inside is harder to break?”

“Then Rafi will climb up to the roof,” Ronny said, his hand behind his back. “How’s it going, Shai?”

“Another minute and I’ll have it open,” Shai reassured him hurriedly.

“Here’s hoping you’ll be spared the job of climbing up there, cute little religious boy,” Eddie said, looking at the short figure sitting cross-legged on the ground, leaning on the wall. “Doesn’t look like much fun.” He put a hand on the gutter that descended from the roof and raised his head. “It’s really high, Ronny!”

“Yep.” Ronny was engrossed in Shai’s efforts.

“What’s inside this room, Eddie?” Puti asked, plopping down on the floor near Rafi. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 24 of a new online serial novel, Divided Attention, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday. Click here for previous chapters.

Copyright © 2010 by Israel Bookshop Publications

Rafi usually opened his eyes as soon as he heard Yael’s voice in his room each morning. Today, however, Rafi’s eyes remained closed. Yael called his name repeatedly until the lump under the covers began to rustle.

“What? Ah…Mrs. Cohen…” A huge yawn contorted his face. “Yeah, I’m getting up…”

But when she came back five minutes later, he was still under the covers, deeply asleep.

“Rafi, are you feeling okay?” Yael asked worriedly.

Rafi sat up at once, and immediately felt dizzy. “I think so. I’m just a little…tired.”

“That happens sometimes,” Mrs. Cohen said warmly, “but after you get up and get dressed, it usually passes.”

Rafi closed his eyes again tiredly, and then opened them; Mrs. Cohen’s worried face came into focus. “That’s it; I’m getting up,” he said and threw the blanket down to the floor. “I’m not tired at all anymore. It passed.”

“I’m going out to the kitchen, okay?” said Mrs. Cohen. “Try and hurry. I want you to have time to eat something before Mr. Cohen comes back to take you to school.”

As soon as she closed the door, Rafi unclenched his fist. A large part of the crumpled tissue in his hand was red, but the blood on the cut had already congealed. Puti had said that he doubted any glass had gotten into the cut, but that next time they broke a window, they would first take out the glass that remained stuck in the frame before Rafi would climb through.

I wish there wouldn’t be a next time! I wish Ronny would forget about me, once and for all! Or that they would decide that they don’t want me in their club! Rafi thought.

He had hardly done anything; he had just climbed into the stairwell window and opened the building door from the inside for them. It was a huge wooden door that could only be opened with a key or through the intercom system.

They had begun spraying paint on the walls until there was an awful smell. Ofer had offered him his spray-paint can, but Rafi had declined. Eddie spilled tons of sand and water on the steps and asked him if he wanted to draw pictures in the sand. He didn’t. He just sat and made sure that Ronny wasn’t drawing people sticking their tongues out, like he had promised. He didn’t want Rabbi Paksher to hear about what they had done and piece together that he was connected to the incident.

Rafi leaned over the bowl that Mr. Cohen had placed near his bed before going to shul, and poured water over his hands with the cup. The cut stung, and he examined it closely. It was not a good idea to show it to Mrs. Cohen now. She would surely ask where he could have possibly gotten such a cut between going to sleep and waking up. If she would notice it at lunchtime, he could tell her that something had happened in school. Keep Reading…