Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 17 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

Yael Cohen served her guests a plate of cookies and two cups of soda. “Which era interests you the most?” she asked in her soft, refined voice.

If Yaeli would have to sum up Mrs. Cohen’s personality in one word, that was the word she would choose: refined. As much as she tried, she could not possibly imagine this woman not being religious.

Tikva peeked at her. “Yaeli?”

“What?”

“Nu, which era?”

The truth was that Yaeli had not devoted even a second of thought to the matter before coming there. What difference did it make if they were writing about something that happened two hundred, five hundred, or even a thousand years ago?

“Maybe the unification of Germany,” she blurted, just to say something.

Tikva glared at her. “We don’t want to write about the Holocaust, remember?”

Yaeli sighed. “If you don’t mind my saying so, Tikva, the unification of Germany happened many years before the Second World War. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“Many years before?” Tikva echoed.

The historian, who had just finished filling their glasses with soda and was now capping the bottle, smiled. “Sixty-eight years, to be exact, if we are referring to the final unification declared in 1871, and not one of the previous stages.”

“I want something from longer ago,” Tikva said decisively. “The more ancient something is, the more interesting it sounds.”

“Could be,” Yael agreed and rose to look at the binders lined up on the top shelf. “Although you have to take into account that the earlier something happened, the fewer details we have about it. But let’s take a look at what we have….”

The curtain hanging over the window of the small room fluttered in the wind. A quiet voiced called out, “Ima?” Someone was talking.

Yael stopped and turned to the door. “Yes, Nava, what’s going on?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 16 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

Ugly reddish drops glistened on the walls of the test tube.

“In another second, these pliers are going to catch fire!” Ronny, whose hand was aching already, grumbled. He was standing in the same position in which he had been five minutes ago, holding his test tube over the small gas flame, but no significant breakdown or change could be discerned inside it.

“What’s with you, Ronny?” The chemistry teacher stood beside him, evaluating the test tube with a critical eye. “Have you written down the components yet?”

“How can I write anything down when I have no idea what’s in here, except for water?” Ronny snapped and shook his test tube impatiently. The reddish drops began to slide down the glass, leaving red-tinged paths in their wake.

“Oh, I see you’ve already identified one component: water,” the teacher said, pointing to the blackboard. The numbers one through five were written in a column, and near the number one, the word “water” was scrawled in large print. “That’s the easiest thing to figure out,” the teacher said and returned to his desk. “If you followed my instructions exactly before you started heating the compound, then the breakdown is supposed to work. Carry on,” he said, waving his metal ruler in the air. “And you should open the windows. I can smell that there is something here in the advanced stages already. Is that you, Adir?”

The short, stocky boy nodded bashfully. His test tube didn’t contain any liquid, but rather a red, metallic sludge that began to blacken as it was heated over the fire. The steam emanating from his test tube was replaced with a grayish smoke that rose in a thin column, and its odor filled the entire lab. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 15 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

Sarah didn’t have anything special to say, except for the regular little speech she made whenever she brought a child to a new foster family. Rafi already knew the routine by heart.

“So I hope he’ll behave nicely and be a good boy,” Sarah said, as Rafi’s face tightened. “And that you’ll be pleased with him. Just don’t forget his antibiotics—he needs to take it three times a day for another ten days. Rafi, I’m going. Now you’ll have a few days of vacation from me.”

Rafi had never heard of the phrase “Baruch she’petarani,” but that was basically what the unexpressed thought that passed through his mind meant.

The next thought was that Sarah was talking about a few days. Hah! Didn’t she remember that he always ran away?

The third thought was that it wouldn’t be at all easy to return home with this cast of his, which had begun to annoy him already. How would he manage to do everything on his own?

The last thought that flashed through his mind before the woman with the kerchief began to speak to him was that he would stay here in the meantime. When they took his cast and bandages off, he would leave.

“Hello, Rafi,” the woman said with a smile. “We’re really happy that you’ve come to us, and we hope it will be good for you here.”

“Did you have a lot of traffic on the way?” the man asked, and Rafi was unsure if he was addressing him or Sarah. In any case, he had no intentions of responding.

“No, the drive was actually very quick, but his discharge took longer than I had expected,” Sarah said. The woman with the kerchief offered her something to eat or drink, but Sarah turned the offer down. “No, thanks, I’m going,” she said. “See you, Rafi; good luck.”

Rafi stood just a short distance away from the door and thought about how simple it would be if only he didn’t have this cast. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a table covered with a tablecloth, with a bottle of cola, a plate of cookies and cake, and two glasses arranged attractively on it. They had probably thought that Sarah would sit and have a drink. They didn’t realize that she was simply counting the seconds until she could get rid of him.

The woman took the plate from the table and came to stand near him. “Look and see which cake you like,” she said softly. Rafi hated soft voices, like Sarah’s. This lady’s voice was a different kind of soft, but it was still soft enough to irritate him. What did she think? That he was a five-year-old who had to be spoken to like that? He looked at the plate and didn’t say a word.

The woman returned the plate to the table and asked him if he wanted a drink. Rafi continued to keep his mouth clamped shut. Then the husband approached him (and Rafi stepped back a little) and asked Rafi if he wanted to see the room they had prepared for him. When Rafi still didn’t respond, the woman and her husband exchanged a look between themselves. Then the woman said she was going to the kitchen, and the man said he was going to somebody named Myriff, or something like that. And then he left the house. And locked the door behind him. Keep Reading…