Kimchi jostle elbows on the halfway line of the desk, trespass it and you die. Zacky Smitanka, Meirky Blutreich, and Hanan Schweiky wave their hands exuberantly to rectify any bad impressions. Dorit Alush chews her gum and writes around the face with the bangs: Dorit Alush, grade 6C, Beit Hakerem Elementary School, Jerusalem, Israel, Asia, earth, universe … and then she stares out the window: what else was there? Michael Carny and Rina Fichman exchange notes and giggle behind their hands. Naomi Feingold munches pretzels under her desk. Anat Fish turns slowly with a sharklike stare at Avi Sasson, who shot a rubber band at her, and David Lipschitz’s face lights up, he looks so woebegone when he smiles like that, but she looks right through him, he isn’t there, can’t she at least give a sign that he exists; Aron vows revenge, he’ll steal something valuable from her and give it to David Lipschitz, how he loathes her, yet he can’t help admiring her a little too, for her beauty, for her coldness, for making a crazy boy fall so helplessly in love with her; and then Rabbi Yohanan Ben-Zakai slipped into the coffin, and his devoted pupils carried him out through the gates of the besieged city, and that is how he made his escape and founded his new center of learning. After the destruction, after the destruction—the words grate
on his nerves. Two minutes left. Redheaded Aliza Lieber stretches her mouth for all to see. Miri Tamari has a hairy mole on the side of her hand that she tries to hide. A backward glance. The albino head is still jerking, almost as if it has a gizmo inside it, a spring or something that makes it bob around like that. “After the destruction of the Temple, children, Rabbi Yohanan Ben-Zakai founded the spiritual center of Yavneh.” The bell rings. Hurray. A monster with eighty arms and legs scrambles out through the narrow doorway past Rivka Bar-Ilan, who turns away with a vague look of horror in her eyes.
Aron’s favorite is Roxana. He’s fond of Rosaline and Natalie too, and he feels a certain sympathy for Angela, but even though he always knew it was his fate to marry a blind woman and be her eyes, he can’t quite ignore that shadow of a smile on Angela’s lips, that hint of pleasure in some of the pictures. He tries to mimic the smile, but stops himself, afraid he’ll be noticed by the noisy crowd as they walk home together. They’re fifteen strong, the boys and girls of the workers’ neighborhood, as they storm through the shopping center, with Aron, as usual, in the eye of the hurricane, telling jokes and talking about his inventions, though lately he prefers to observe them from the side, from behind.
Slowly they move on. Gideon and Zacky, and Dorit Alush chewing gum, a head taller than the boys; tiny Varda Koppler, with the womanly face and a ring on every finger, doesn’t seem to fit in anymore; bringing up the rear is a fifth-grader, little Yaeli Kedmi, whose mom asked them to keep an eye on her when they cross the street, but no one talks to her, she follows them meekly, practically invisible except for her wavy black hair; Michael Carny slithers along as if he were made of jelly, he only smiles when Rina Fichman’s around, and Aron turns away from the gloomy expression on his face; redheaded Aliza Lieber is pensively licking her lips … Take a good look, he tells himself: why is everyone so withdrawn, so lost in thought, so sad, even, though outwardly they’re as noisy and cheerful as ever; together they pass through the new electric door at the supermarket, and Aron is careful not to cross the threshold alone, he doesn’t trust these automatic things, and the kids swarm by the food shelves, so many colors and no smell, thinks Aron, and they stop to watch Mr. Babaioff at the fish counter kill a carp with one blow, the body goes on squirming, and while the rest of them chase their tails around the aisles, Aron tarries at the fish counter till the carp lies
motionless
on his nerves. Two minutes left. Redheaded Aliza Lieber stretches her mouth for all to see. Miri Tamari has a hairy mole on the side of her hand that she tries to hide. A backward glance. The albino head is still jerking, almost as if it has a gizmo inside it, a spring or something that makes it bob around like that. “After the destruction of the Temple, children, Rabbi Yohanan Ben-Zakai founded the spiritual center of Yavneh.” The bell rings. Hurray. A monster with eighty arms and legs scrambles out through the narrow doorway past Rivka Bar-Ilan, who turns away with a vague look of horror in her eyes.
Aron’s favorite is Roxana. He’s fond of Rosaline and Natalie too, and he feels a certain sympathy for Angela, but even though he always knew it was his fate to marry a blind woman and be her eyes, he can’t quite ignore that shadow of a smile on Angela’s lips, that hint of pleasure in some of the pictures. He tries to mimic the smile, but stops himself, afraid he’ll be noticed by the noisy crowd as they walk home together. They’re fifteen strong, the boys and girls of the workers’ neighborhood, as they storm through the shopping center, with Aron, as usual, in the eye of the hurricane, telling jokes and talking about his inventions, though lately he prefers to observe them from the side, from behind.
Slowly they move on. Gideon and Zacky, and Dorit Alush chewing gum, a head taller than the boys; tiny Varda Koppler, with the womanly face and a ring on every finger, doesn’t seem to fit in anymore; bringing up the rear is a fifth-grader, little Yaeli Kedmi, whose mom asked them to keep an eye on her when they cross the street, but no one talks to her, she follows them meekly, practically invisible except for her wavy black hair; Michael Carny slithers along as if he were made of jelly, he only smiles when Rina Fichman’s around, and Aron turns away from the gloomy expression on his face; redheaded Aliza Lieber is pensively licking her lips … Take a good look, he tells himself: why is everyone so withdrawn, so lost in thought, so sad, even, though outwardly they’re as noisy and cheerful as ever; together they pass through the new electric door at the supermarket, and Aron is careful not to cross the threshold alone, he doesn’t trust these automatic things, and the kids swarm by the food shelves, so many colors and no smell, thinks Aron, and they stop to watch Mr. Babaioff at the fish counter kill a carp with one blow, the body goes on squirming, and while the rest of them chase their tails around the aisles, Aron tarries at the fish counter till the carp lies
motionless
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