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…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 5 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, what are you doing?”

“Homework. Ugh!”

Her father’s eyebrows rose. “Ugh? Am I hearing right? To the best of my recollection, the thing that you were most afraid of during summer vacation was the thought that you wouldn’t have homework this year. Hmm…”

Nava smiled. “You get used to good things very quickly, Abba,” she said, putting her pencil down on the open geometry book. The two triangles she was working on were congruent; that much was obvious, but how was she supposed to come to the conclusion that segment CD was equal to EF? They were nowhere near the triangles! “The truth is,” she continued, without looking up from the book, “groaning about homework and schoolwork is part of the fun of being in high school. I’m just enjoying the privilege.”

Nava’s father picked up the pencil and toyed with it. “Still, I would expect you to be a bit more respectful about school. It’s not a good idea for people to hear you talking like that, you know.”

Nava bit her lip and looked out the window. “I only make such comments at home, Abba,” she finally said quietly. “I think I’m considered a very serious student in school. Serious as far as effort, of course.”

Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 4 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

It didn’t take too long to finish the two questions assigned for social studies homework; even sharpening the pencil had taken longer. Ariella closed her notebook and Nava Cohen stood up.

“Are you going now?” Ariella asked, gazing adoringly at the person she had come to think of as “Wednesday’s girl”. Every day since Ariella’s mother had contracted mono, high school girls came to straighten up the house, prepare supper, and help the children with their homework. Ariella liked all of them, but she especially loved Nava. Nava played with her and her siblings, washed the dishes with lightening speed, cut up a colorful vegetable salad, and dressed the younger children in pajamas.

“Yes, sweetie, I’m going,” Nava confirmed.

The other children gathered around them. “Can we make noise now that Ariella’s finished her homework?” Elazar asked. “Can I blow the whistle that Devoiry gave me yesterday?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Nava said, smiling at the six-year-old. “Moishy might wake up.”

“And so might Ima!” Ariella said as she slid her notebook into her briefcase. “Abba said that whoever tries not to make noise gets a mitzvah! Right, Nava?” Keep reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 3 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 green notebook became filled with her close, neat handwriting.

I held the list in my hand. Auerbach, Arnon, Ben Shlomo, Badani, Guttenberg… They were all new names. I didn’t recognize a single one of them and did not know which of the faces sitting before me belonged to which name. I observed a few faces that had closed expressions, as though these girls had made a firm decision not to enjoy a single thing that happened there.  I didn’t know if they were the girls who had been accepted to the old school and had been forced to switch, or perhaps they were the girls who hadn’t been accepted anywhere. For me, they were all new, sweet girls.  New faces, a new page of new names, in a brand new attendance book.

“Dermer, Chaya.”

At the back of the classroom, a diminutive figure sat up straight. Why had she chosen to sit so far back? I was inclined to tell her to change seats with someone sitting closer up front, but at the last second I remembered that I’d better get to know her first, at least a little, before I made any changes.

“Horner, Avital.” Ah, so that girl with the glasses on the left was Avital. Interesting; I thought that at this age the girls already wore lenses, I mused. Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 2 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

Eight-year-old Avi looked at the note. The atrocious handwriting was very familiar, a little too familiar. But how had Ronny gotten a hold of this? And what did it say?

“Do you know who wrote this?” Ronny’s gentle tone did not fool Avi for a minute. His big brother was angry, and he, Avi, was undoubtedly his intended victim.

“Yes,” he said, standing up very straight. He could not allow Ronny to see that he was afraid of him. “He’s my friend.”

“Your friend? Which one?”

Avi giggled. Calling Rafi a friend was preposterous, but that wasn’t Ronny’s business. “Rafi Zimmer. He’s a kid in my class.”

The older boy crumpled the note into a little ball, but then reconsidered. He smoothed out the creased paper and put it into his pocket.

“Get him for me,” he said, his eyes boring into his younger brother’s face. “Did you hear me? I said to go get him.”

Avi laughed nervously. Ronny was asking him the impossible. “Get him? I can’t,” he said uneasily.

“Why not?” Keep Reading…

Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 1 of a new online serial novel, Divided Attention, by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every Thursday or Friday.

Copyright © 2010 by Israel Bookshop Publications

The large bag contained just a few garments; too few.

“When it gets full, you’ll take it down to Mrs. Brown, the neighbor, alright?” Sarah would say every time she visited. Once, a long time ago, perhaps even a year ago, Ima would wash the clothes herself. But she didn’t do that anymore. Now she only washed clothes for herself and for Shira. She had completely forgotten about Rafi.

Mrs. Brown would take the full bag from him and after a day, sometimes two, he would find it waiting outside the door when he came home from school. She never asked for money, but he knew that Sarah gave her lots of money. Sometimes the woman from the social services would come and arrange the closet, checking whether he had enough clean clothes. But neither she nor Sarah understood why the bag filled so slowly, while the shelves in the closet looked almost the same every time.

Only Rafi knew, as did the children in his class.

“You’ve been wearing that shirt for a whole week already!” Avi Gelbart had sneered just yesterday, pinching his nose closed. “What a smell! Ugh! Like fish!”

Everyone standing around Avi had laughed, but Rafi knew that Avi was lying. Fish? Nonsense. There wasn’t any fish in their house, nor was there chicken. Rafi thought that Ima must have long forgotten how to cook. Sometimes Sarah or the other lady brought a bit of food, but that was it.

Rafi didn’t tell Avi that he was a liar, though; he didn’t tell him anything at all. All the kids could laugh all they wanted at Avi’s words—but they wouldn’t dare laugh at Rafi’s fists. And that’s what Rafi used now to answer Avi. He didn’t care that Avi limped around until lunchtime; Rafi knew it was just a show so that their teacher, Mrs. Davidi, would have pity on Avi and send him, Rafi, the “big, bad bully,” to the principal. This time, however, Mrs. Davidi didn’t send him to the principal. Instead, she just announced in that horrible voice of hers what a shame it was that they had such a boy in their class.

And, as usual, everyone laughed.

They had been laughing at him since first grade, when he would come to school with his clothes on backwards. He wondered if they knew how to dress themselves at that age, the spoiled brats! But that didn’t happen anymore. He knew exactly how to check if his clothes were on right, and if he could see the stitching on the outside, he knew he had to turn the garment inside-out.

Rafi had learned to do lots of things himself. Still, Sarah said that a boy of eight-and-a-half can’t do everything himself. She also said that he wasn’t eating properly, and that it was important for a growing boy to eat healthy food. She wanted to take him somewhere else, where he would have a different Abba and Ima, who would take care of him and prepare healthy meals for him to eat. But he didn’t want to go. Maybe Ima would suddenly decide that she loved him as much as she loved Shira? Perhaps she would suddenly have an urge to cook something especially for him? It would be such a shame if he wouldn’t be home just then.

But he didn’t explain all that to Sarah. She wouldn’t understand anyway. Keep Reading…