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…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 23 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 sun dipped behind the tiled roofs. A wind whipped up scraps of paper into a macabre dance.

“I haven’t davened Minchah yet,” Nava suddenly remembered. “Is there a shul in the area?”

“There is, but I don’t think that the ladies’ section is open now,” Batya Schindler said and looked up. “I haven’t davened yet either. Do you have a siddur on you?”

“Yes,” Nava said, tightening her grip on her bag.

“Maybe we should go back to the seamstress,” Batya suggested. “Actually, we can go into one of these buildings and daven in the stairwell.”

“Okay,” Nava agreed. “Let’s go into this building. No, this one!” There was a trace of panic in her abrupt movements as she dragged Batya along with her, but the latter did not notice.

“Wait a minute.” Batya stopped her. “I think that girl is calling you, isn’t she?”

“Maybe,” Nava said, her expression inscrutable. She had no choice but to turn and wave to Rina, who was just slamming the car door and holding onto Danny’s mitten-clad hand. She approached them.

“Hi, Nava! What are you doing here?” Rina smiled at Nava and her friend. “You’ve come for a visit? How nice!”

Nava smiled back and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Batya, my sister-in-law, Rina,” she said tersely.

“Oh, nice to meet you!” Batya said, looking Rina up and down from head to toe; not a single detail evaded her gaze.

“So, are you coming up? Danny! You didn’t say hello to Nava! Have you forgotten her already?”

The child giggled at Nava through the knitted hat that covered most of his face.

“That’s a good idea, actually,” Batya said with relief. “Nava came with me to the seamstress and neither of us have davened Minchah yet. It’s going to be shkiah soon.”

Rina looked at them both. “So let’s go. There’s plenty of room in my house. But I’m not sure I have anything to serve you, Nava.”

“That’s fine,” her young sister-in-law answered, her face pale. “Is Shimon home?”

“No, he gets home very late today.”

Nava felt an incredible urge to bite her nails. She had dropped the habit over six years ago, but sometimes, when she felt uncertain, confused, or uncomfortable, that inexplicable urge rose again. What should she do now? At least Shimon wasn’t there, but Abba and Ima would be very unhappy to hear that she had visited her brother’s house—and had brought a friend with her, no less!

But there didn’t seem to be much of a choice. Batya was already chatting amiably with Rina, telling her about the Russian seamstress who was sewing her dress for her sister’s wedding for a laughable price. Well, Rina was an expert at making people feel comfortable, and Batya didn’t look like she had any inhibitions about talking too much. There was no choice. They’d go up, daven, and then leave right away.

“How’s Rafi?” Rina asked as the elevator began to ascend.

“Baruch Hashem. Where do you leave Danny on Tuesdays?” She smiled, somewhat woodenly, at her nephew.

“A nice girl comes to watch him. It’s probably better that way, no?”

Nava had no idea what she was referring to. Was it better that Danny and Nava didn’t see each other now? It had been more than a month already since that babysitting arrangement had ended. Was it better not to take Danny out of the house on cold days? Was it better that a strange girl should watch him? Why? Hadn’t Rina been happy with her? Or perhaps she simply meant that they had decided to stop the arrangement so as not to confuse Rafi with familiar figures from his past and not to direct their attention to another child who suddenly appeared. Is that what Rina meant? Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 22 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

A note landed smack in the middle of Nava’s desk. She shoved it over to the corner and continued to gaze at Morah Dinner, who was explaining the calculations of the days of the Mabul. Miss out on Morah Dinner’s riveting explanations? Not her.

“Open it already, Nava!” Batya whispered. “Devoiry’s getting upset at you!”

Nava didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Nava!”

“Not now!” Nava whispered back and turned her concentration back to the board, trying to focus on the subject at hand. Rafi had started learning Chumash Bereishis with Abba, in addition to Chumash Shemos that he was learning in class. She was supposed to study with him. The good thing was that Rafi loved learning with Abba, something she herself had never liked. What was the difference? Was it Rafi’s constant need for attention? Was it the special way Abba treated him?

Perhaps you should be a bit honest with yourself and admit that Rafi simply likes to learn. He sits and gazes at Abba with huge eyes as he listens to the lively explanations.

Sarah had visited yesterday just when they were learning and had observed them from the kitchen doorway.

“I can’t believe it! It’s just not the same child!” she kept exclaiming. “Yael, this must be an act, right?”

Nava had been offended by the question. Did she really think that they treated Rafi like a circus animal that performed on command?

“An act?” Ima had asked with her soft, calm smile. “You’re invited to come every evening to watch them. He always listens like this, and sometimes even better.”

“Yes, I know that he feels better when I’m not here,” Sarah said and retreated into the kitchen. “Are they supposed to finish in the next few minutes? I want to speak to him a bit. By the way, what’s that bruise on his face?”

Nava bit her lip. What did it matter? Didn’t normal kids fall sometimes? What was the social worker so worried about? Did she think they abused him in their home?

“That bruise? We were also wondering about it,” Ima had answered with her unflappable composure. “He said that he was running and had bumped into the wall. What do you think? Can we believe that?”

“No one called to complain that Rafi had attacked their child?”

“Not at all.”

“So you can be calm,” Sarah said wryly. “It must really be a bang from the wall. I don’t remember this child ever being hit and taking it sitting down. If you haven’t heard any complaints, then it’s likely that no one hit him. I can’t believe how much he’s changed in a month and a half! Since when did he ever obey anything?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 21 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

Reb Nechemia patrolled the noisy yard, enjoying the sound of the children playing and the blowing breeze. He smiled when his eyes fell on the bearded man. “Oh, Reb Baruch. I wanted to speak to you quietly for a few minutes.”

“Quietly?” The cacophony around them hardly fit that description. Baruch Perlmutter smiled.

“Quiet, noise, it doesn’t really matter. As long as we can both speak, that’s fine.”

They moved closer to the wall of the building. Reb Baruch looked at the tree, which stood sentry beside them. “What do the police say, Rabbi Paksher?”

“The police? They say…all sorts of things. Nu, it’s not the police we trust. How’s your new student doing? Have you taken a look at his bruise?”

Perlmutter’s face grew serious. “You can’t miss it. I asked him about it, but he insisted that it was just a bump from the wall and nothing else.”

“Does that make sense to you?”

Reb Baruch mulled the question over for a minute. “I think so,” he said slowly. “It didn’t look like he was hiding anything. But that’s not all.”

“Meaning?” The principal stroked his beard.

His expression turned grim as he heard the rest of the story. “How did you react?” he asked the teacher.

“At first I was very surprised. After all, until now, he was such a quiet boy. I haven’t had any chutzpah or discipline problems with him, and except for a few normal spats with his classmates, things have been very smooth.”

“Spats? Including hitting?”

“Yes. And he sure is good at that.”

The principal folded his arms. “And what did you do this time?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 20 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

Manny pulled up at the curb.

“Have a good day, Rafi!” he said and waved from the window. “Hatzlach—Hey, what’s going on over there?”

The large, wide tree had lost all its charm. It stood there black and sooty, its blackened, leafless branches stark against the winter sky. Dozens of children stood at the base of the tree, pointing and waving animatedly.

“They’ve done it again?” Manny whispered in horror. “They’ve got to catch those bandits! Rafi, go ask them what happened.”

A curly-haired boy ran over to them, shouting something at Rafi, who shrank back and put his hand on the car.

“Rafi, did you see what they did here?” the kid breathlessly asked. He peeked into the car. “Are you Rafi’s father? Hi. My name is Meir Cooperman and I sit next to him,” –he pointed at Rafi—”in class.”

“What happened over there?” Manny asked, pointing at the swarming yard.

“They burned the tree, and the wall near it almost got burned! Everything’s black! They also threw rocks into some classrooms and the windows broke! Our classroom window is also smashed! And they spray painted the back wall!”

Manny sighed. “This is terrible. I hope they’ll be caught soon. Rafi, if you see your principal tell him I was very sorry to hear.”

“Oh,” Rafi said expressionlessly, and without smiling, he waved at the man behind the wheel and walked through the gate beside Meir Cooperman.

“Come,” Meir urged, energetic as always. “Look what they did behind the building. They drew the face that was painted inside last time with the tongue sticking out!”

Rafi stood facing the virtual carbon copy of his creation, only this time it wasn’t red; it was black. With a neutral expression on his face, he touched the drawing; his fingertips immediately turned black. “It’s not spray,” he told Meir.  “It’s paint. Black paint.”

“How do you know?” Meir asked, also touching the black face.

“Paint is wet. Spray paint gets absorbed by the wall,” Rafi said, and then breathing heavily, asked, “Why did they burn that nice tree?”

“You know lots of things!” Meir said with admiration. “Maybe we should make a secret club and catch them!”

“Catch who?”

“The guys who keep doing this to us! I think that Gavriel and Yudi would want to join. How about you? I think you’d be a great detective; you’re really smart and you’ll be able to help us a lot!”

***

After a light knock, the door of the third grade classroom opened and the principal gazed at the students with his warm brown eyes.

“Hello, Rabbi Paksher,” the teacher greeted him. “Boys, we’ve finished the perek. You can close the chumashim.”

Rafi’s hands automatically closed the chumash in front of him.

“Boys,” the principal said, pulling the door closed behind him. “I just wanted to talk to you myself, to calm down anyone who is afraid. Hashem has put us in this place, and we are doing the best we can. Obviously there are some people who are angry that we are here, but I’m sure that, b’ezras Hashem, they won’t hurt any of you. They just want to bother us a little, nothing more. What do you think we can do in this situation?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 19 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

We have to be at peace with our decision, Nava’s father said to himself as he turned the wheel. Especially since you’ve consulted the rav. Yael had been right after all. The child would learn here for the time being, and when he would advance, they could move him to a regular Talmud Torah. If we want to go far, we have to start at a slow pace, especially since his Torah knowledge was extremely scant for a child his age in a normal cheder. Here, at least, many of the children came from backgrounds similar to his.

The car stopped with a slight squeal. Manny turned his head to the back. “We’re here, Rafi,” he said. “You can open the seatbelt and get out.” The child didn’t move. He sat hunched into the back seat, reminding Manny of that first half an hour he had been in their home. His eyes were fixed on the window, scanning the school. “Is it too hard for you because of your hands?” Mr. Cohen asked, and got out of the car to open the back door. “Here, I opened it for you. Now you can come out.”

Rafi crept out, moving in almost slow motion. He kept glancing at the building warily, especially at the big tree in the yard. Something about this place was very familiar, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. There had been a yard, a tree and a small window there, too. How many details had he absorbed during those cold, dark nights? Almost nothing. Maybe it was just coincidentally similar.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Rafi. The principal here is a very, very nice man. I’ve spoken to him by phone. I’m sure you’re going to love it here. You just have to remember to behave nicely, like you know how.”

Manny knocked on the door of the office and pushed it open a little. Rafi’s muscles stiffened so tightly that they hurt. He followed Manny leadenly, feeling as though he was in a huge soap bubble. In another minute, the bubble would burst and the principal would remember him right away. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 18 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’s world was divided in two. The first part was in Kiryat Yovel, at home with Ima, and in class with Mrs. Davidi and the other children. There, he was Rafi who did what he wanted; the boy of whom everyone was afraid. No one dared say a word of rebuke to him. He was Rafi who was buddies with Ronny, and to whom Rina, the guidance counselor, tried to speak. But despite all these people in his life, he was really alone, so very alone, and he knew that no one was particularly pleased that he was there in the first place. Now, they were probably happy that he was gone, but soon enough, after they removed his cast and bandages, he would go back there and show them all.

The other half of Rafi’s world was here, with Mr. and Mrs. Cohen and Nava. In their home, he was suddenly the youngest and everyone was worried about him and asking how he felt. They seemed to have his best interests at heart, or at least that’s what they said. He tried to be good, like they wanted him to be, and it wasn’t very hard. Only sometimes, they had to remind him that it was better to speak nicely, but except for that, they didn’t say anything. Even when he occasionally got up at night and made noise, they didn’t get angry or tell him that it was nighttime and that he had to sleep. Mr. Cohen would sit next to him and tell him a story, and sometimes, Mrs. Cohen would peel an orange or tangerine for him, or prepare for him some grapefruit segments sprinkled with sugar. The only problem was that he couldn’t always find his ball and that annoyed him, because sometimes, kicking the ball helped him sleep better afterwards.

He thought that he liked the Cohen family, and maybe—he wasn’t sure—they liked him. It was really worth wearing the kippah for that; he was sure that they liked him even more because of it. They hadn’t bought him strings for his pants, nor had they taken him to the barber, even though he’d told them that he wanted this. Mr. Cohen had said they would “wait and see.” Rafi didn’t understand what exactly they were waiting for. Did they want to see how long his hair could grow?

Meanwhile, Shabbos had passed, and it was a really pleasant day in a religious house.  He went with Mr. Cohen to shul at night, and sat next to him the whole time, except when he went outside to see what the other kids were doing. He had stood and watched them play for a few minutes. A few of the kids had given him a glance, but none of them said a word to him, except for one kid who asked, “Hey, you, there, what’s your name? Why are you staring at us?”

Rafi had wanted to go over to that kid and show him who he was starting up with, but his hands suddenly felt very heavy, reminding him that they were more or less useless right now. That worked out pretty well, because he was sure that Mr. Cohen would not have liked the idea of him starting up with other kids, even if they had really started up with him.

On the way home, Mr. Cohen spoke to him about all sorts of interesting things, like the shul and praying and Hashem.

Afterwards there was Kiddush in a silver cup with grape juice. He kept asking for more grape juice, and finished almost half the bottle. And there were nice songs, and Mr. Cohen spoke about people who went to Egypt and had to work really hard there to build buildings that kept falling apart. Mrs. Davidi had once told them something like that; or perhaps it was last year, with Mrs. Simon; he couldn’t remember anymore. But Mr. Cohen sure told it over much better than his teachers. Everything at the Cohens was nicer than it was over in Kiryat Yovel. He was happy he was here now, and that he didn’t have to meet any of the people from there. Keep Reading…

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…