Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 9 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

“Nothing’s missing.”

Rabbi Nechemia Paksher, principal of the Nachalas Yisrael school, stood with his arms folded and his expression uncharacteristically somber as he spoke to the police officer. He didn’t even have the option of slumping helplessly into a chair, because the chair—like most of the room—was covered with that horrid black paint. The drawers had been replaced, but a mound of crumpled, dirty papers littered the desk. Reb Nechemia sighed. “If I could catch that vandal, I’d really give it to him!”

“Citizens have no authority to punish,” the bespectacled officer responded blandly.

“Citizens also have no right to do this!” the principal snapped back, pointing at the wall. There was a message painted there, but the words were very unclear. “He can’t even write normally, this robber,” he added and stared again at the crooked letters. To him they seemed to say, “We don’t want you here,” but some of the letters were upside down or cut off, and he only figured out the whole sentence from the context.

“You said he didn’t take anything,” the officer said in a soothing tone.

“But he’s still a robber! Breaking in here isn’t called a robbery?”

“Where do you think he came in from?”

“I don’t know,” Reb Nechemia said, beginning to pace around the room.

“And where did he leave from?”

“Our front door is fashioned in a way that it can be opened from the inside, in the event that a child gets locked in. But now that you mention it, where did he get in from?”

“I looked around a little and found a window open upstairs,” the officer said.

“Well, why didn’t you say so before?! Which window?”

“At the end of the hallway, near the sinks.”

Reb Nechemia waved his hand dismissively. “That little window? The one that’s broken?”

“It also doesn’t have bars,” the policeman pointed out.

“But who could get into such a tiny hole?” Reb Nechemia wondered aloud.

“One of your younger students, perhaps?”

The principal stopped in mid pace and looked sharply at the officer. “No. It could not have been one of my students. Impossible!”

“Why are you so convinced?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 8 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

Ayala’s pen suddenly dried up and refused to write. She walked over to the supply drawer, hoping she’d find a pen that wrote in a decent color. Near the cabinet in the hallway stood Sari with—what else—the receiver pressed to her ear.

“Excuse me a minute, Sari,” Ayala said.

Still talking to her friend on the phone, Sari moved over, allowing her mother to reach the drawer. “I don’t think the girls are going to like it, Gila. We need something more active, more challenging. We’re not little girls anymore. Listening to a good story while sitting in a circle on the grass is just not going to do it. We have to seriously think about this.”

Ayala found three pens, two blue and one black. She took them all to the table so she could see which, if any of them, actually wrote. Pens are like batteries, she mused. People don’t like throwing them out even when they start to fade, because, “Maybe we can still get some more use out of it, and we’ll check it when we have a chance.” But when you’re looking for a pen that really has something left, all the almost-finished pens become a real pain in the neck!

The black pen was the only one that wrote normally. One blue pen just scraped the page, and Ayala put it aside, making a mental note not to put it back in the drawer, but to throw it out—something that should have been done long ago. The second pen formed something resembling letters, but it was so faint that it was barely legible. It, too, joined the garbage pile.

“Ima?” Sari entered the kitchen. “Did you find a pen? You can borrow mine.”

“Thanks,” Ayala said with a smile. “I found one. I just hope it’s not almost finished also! Are you planning a program with Gila?”

“Uh-huh. Morah Levy asked us to prepare a program for the field trip we’re taking the day after tomorrow.”

“Field trip?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 7 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

They stood together in the little yard behind the house; the others had gone already. The wall in front of them was cracked, scribbled, and covered with garish drawings.

“Try here,” Ronny said, proffering the metal can. “Remember, you gotta press and move the can at the same time to make letters.”

“What letters?” Rafi looked at the wall with a strange expression.

“Whatever you want to write.”

“But I don’t want to write anything.”

“Fine, you’re just practicing now anyway. Just write anything, and when you get there, you’ll write real stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Ronny laughed. “Who cares? You can write: ‘Chareidim, out!’ or ‘We don’t want you in our neighborhood!’”

“They’re not in our neighborhood.”

“They’re in that neighborhood and we want them out. Forget it; it doesn’t matter. Now stop beating around the bush. Let’s see if you can even use this spray can with those skinny fingers of yours.”

Rafi pressed the nozzle can and a wavy black line appeared on the dirty wall.

“Great. Now write your name or somethin’.”

A fuzzy, fragmented ‘R’ slowly appeared on the wall, followed by an equally shaky ‘a’.

“Nice. Good job,” Ronny complimented Rafi. “You gotta practice more. Try an ‘f’.”

But Rafi put the can down on the ground. “I wanna write with real paint,” he said with surprising confidence. “I’m no good at this. And gimme a note with what you want me to write.” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 6 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

Nava’s father tipped his silver becher once, and then twice, handed the smaller cups to Nava and her mother, and they drank from the Kiddush wine.

Nava straightened the velvet challah cover she had bought her parents more than seven years ago and joined them in the kitchen, waiting for her parents to finish washing their hands. Until she had given them the gift, they had covered the challos each week with the white lace cloth that her mother had purchased for their first Shabbos.

Nava remembered that Shabbos very well. She was seven years old, standing in awe as her mother, wearing a pristine white kerchief on her head, struck the match and touched it to the white wicks as she lit the Shabbos candles. The small flames began to dance merrily as Ima covered her eyes. Nava didn’t know then if her mother was crying, but she understood that this was a special moment.

And suddenly, the doorbell had rung. It was a harsh, grating noise, one that violated the tranquility of the moment. She saw Abba hurry to the door and preferred to stay behind in the dining room, watching Ima.

“Hey! Is Nava here?” It was Michelle, of course; who else?

“Yes, she’s home,” her father replied, sounding openly displeased. He walked back into the dining room.

Oh, no! For the first time, Nava noticed that he was wearing a white yarmulke. And Michelle was the one who had to see it! True, they would go to children’s programs at the local high school, and a nice guy with a black yarmulke told the boys that it was like the crown of a king, and he had some great stories about it. But she had been so happy then that she wasn’t a boy! Imagine having to walk with such a thing on her head in the street! To school! That was all she needed. Keep Reading…