The moment I walked into the classroom, one morning between Yom Kippur and Sukkot, I saw that something was happening. The class was all in a stir. A sea of heads formed a large, tight circle which occasionally shook and quaked, creating an opening that immediately closed again. This sea rippled with waves and breakers of hands fluttering upwards and to all sides from an excess of energy and excitement as all the girls formed a ring around - yes, I should have guessed it before I looked. In the center of the circle stood Chedvah, specifying, explaining, and arguing in high gear.

Chedvah. I hadn't yet managed to explain this girl to myself. All she had allowed us to discover about her was that she was a good-hearted person, cheerfully willing to help anyone who needed her. She was a bright girl. She wasn't at the top of the class, but her answers during the lessons, her written work and her test scores - just imagine, we had already squeezed in two exams since the beginning of the year! - showed that she had a head on her shoulders. She didn't always bother to use this head of hers for studying, but generally speaking she was always using it for something. She was constantly coming up with ideas - usually daring and unusual ones.

This time, too, Chedvah had an idea. Within a few minutes after walking into class, I had succeeded in understanding what was the subject of all the excitement: The day's schedule consisted of six lessons, ending at 1:45, and the Final lesson was history. It was such an exasperating lesson! Chedvah claimed. And the history teacher wasn't exactly the type that had us all trembling in our boots. Therefore Chedvah proposed that we skip the last lesson, get on a bus, and go to Tel Aviv - to the beach, of course!

"Summer's almost over!" Chedvah explained. Her voice was already hoarse from yelling, but she was still full of energy and enthusiasm. "How many warm days like today will we have until next summer? Hardly any! In fact... in fact... today might be the last day!" she exclaimed dramatically.

Suddenly a quiet, calm voice was heard. "Why the last day?" It was Anat, who had just that moment walked into the classroom.

Chedvah was thrown off guard for a moment. "Oh, Anat!" she stammered, "For sure you won't agree. You'll say it's not allowed."

"Why the last day?" Anat repeated her question.

"Well, it's not sure... but it might be... the last day we can go to the beach..." The lame declaration sounded ridiculous; and even more ridiculous was the confused expression on Chedvah's face, which was turning slightly red. The whole class broke out in thunderous laughter. Our hilarity jolted Chedvah out of her confusion.

"Yes, it's not at all funny! We've only been learning for three weeks, but to me it seems already like three months!"

Just between you and me, Chedvah was definitely right about that.

"These teachers," she went on, "have put us under such pressure from our studies that we've forgotten there's anything else in the world besides studying. Can't we enjoy life a little, too? So we'll miss one lesson. What's so terrible about that? If we leave right after our Navi lesson, and get away right at quarter to one, we can catch the one o'clock bus to Tel Aviv. We'll get there by two, stay at the beach till four or four-thirty and take, let's say, the five o'clock bus back. We'll be home by about six. What's wrong with that plan?"

"Excellent! It's a wonderful plan, Chedvah," Ruth broke into the rush of Chedvah's enthusiasm. "But there are a few holes in it."

"Holes? What do you think it is, a pair of shoes?" Chedvah screeched irrelevantly. She wasn't about to let anyone ruin her plan. "What are your problems, Ruthy? I'll solve them for you one by one."

"First of all, where will we leave our briefcases? Surely you're not suggesting that we take them to the beach with us."

"Why not?" Yael spoke up. "Maybe the fish are bored. We could teach them something. History, maybe..."

"You're beginning to talk nonsense!" Chedvah lost her patience. "You think I don't know what to do with the briefcases? In the schoolyard there's a little hut, kind of a storeroom. I checked. It's always open. We'll put our briefcases there, and pick them up when we come back."

"And what about our parents? We didn't tell them we'll be late... and where will we get swimming suits?"

For a moment the room fell silent. Was Chedvah defeated? No. She refused to give in. All the same, her voice lost a little of its self-assurance.

"O.K. So we'll change the plan a little. At quarter to one, everyone will race home, with briefcases - we'll forget about the storeroom. We'll tell our parents, take swimming suits and food, and at one-thirty - not a minute later! - we'll all get on the bus. Everybody got it?"

"What if some of the parents don't agree?"

"And I live far away. I won't make it in time." Peninah raised a reasonable objection.

"I also live far away. Ruthy, can I come to your house to call home and get permission from my mother? And maybe you have a swimming suit I could borrow?"

"Chedvah, you've forgotten about the girls that live in the dorm." Ednah, who lived in Haifa, joined in. "We'd have to get permission from our madricha or dorm mother, and if you think one of them would agree to your plan, you're dreaming, though its true that nothing special is planned for today, and the dorm is a bit deserted, since quite a few of the girls haven't come back yet. They live too far away and will only come back after Sukkot. They're living the good life," Ednah grumbled.

"So let's live the good life, too!" Chedvah urged her. "And whoever is afraid to come - let her stay home! Tomorrow, when she hears us talking about what a good time we had, she can pop with jealousy!"

Anat and I stood together, a little away from the group, and listened to the debate.

"What's your opinion, Anat?" I asked. The truth is, Chedvah had succeeded in getting me on her side. It was a little cool inside the room, but outside was a heat wave. You couldn't even look up at the sky, or your eyes would immediately dry out and be scorched. The sun was flaming, blinding. Your mouth and whole body felt dry, the air was still and suffocating. They say the end of summer is hotter than the summer. How true. The beach - just thinking about it gave a refreshing feeling to the whole body. To dive under, to be swept along among the moist, cool, caressing waves...

Anat shrugged her shoulders. "I'm crazy about the beach," she admitted half-heartily, "But, to run away from class? And without the madrichahs permission? I can't do a thing like that."

"Are you afraid, Anat?" Only after I saw the look in her eyes did I realize that the provocation, even if unintended, was pointless. For a moment I thought she would choose one of two possibilities: Either she would gaze at me silently, with penetrating eyes, and not even bother to answer; or she would reproach me with her characteristic gentleness - the kind of reproach that always left me feeling like a wayward sinner in comparison to her.

But Anat's reaction was not what I expected. "Afraid?" she answered, after a moment's thought. "I suppose I am. The question is, who am I afraid of? Certainly not of the teachers..." And even though I'm convinced she hadn't at all intended her words as a reproach, that's the effect they had on me. Only two days ago had been Yom Kippur.

The excited voice of Dalyah rose into the air: "I've got a different idea! Maybe we could put off the plan till tomorrow? If so, we'll gain a couple of advantages. Since tomorrow is the last day of school before Sukkot vacation, we can do whatever we want! After Sukkot, who's going to remember that, way back then, we ran away from a. lesson? Which is the last lesson tomorrow? History again! Aha! Nothing's changed, just the day! And besides, tomorrow the dorm girls won't have a problem. They're all travelling home anyway after school. No one has to know that instead of going straight home they made a detour to the beach." Dalyah herself was one of the dorm girls.

Murmurs of agreement were heard. "Makes more sense. That way we also have a better chance to get our parents permission. We can bring everything we need in the morning, and go straight from school to the central bus station."

"Chedvah, we'll have use for your storeroom, after all. We'll have to hide our briefcases there!" someone remarked. But the comment went unnoticed.

Chedvah once again became full of energy. "O.K. Good. So it'll be tomorrow. But remember. Not a word to our parents about the fact that we're going to skip the history lesson. And be careful that none of the teachers get wind of the plan. Don't even talk about it with girls from the other classes!"

"But I thought today was the last day of summer, winter already begins tomorrow and it will be impossible to go to the beach!"

"Don't be silly, Anat!" Chedvah sounded a bit insulted, more from our satisfied laughter than from Anat's remark. "I only said 'might be.' You never know for sure, so we have to make good use of every day."

But Anat didn't let up. "In that case, why not make use of Sukkot vacation? Why do this at the expense of our learning?" "Sukkot!" Chedvah hissed contemptuously. How would we manage to get the whole class together during Sukkot? You're the first one that for sure won't show up, and besides, that would take all the fun out of it. During Sukkot, everyone can do whatever she wants. During Sukkot, it's allowed to go to the beach. The teachers can't tell us what to do on vacation. What's the point of doing what's allowed anyway?"

Cries of agreement were heard, along with a few opposing voices. We must have been making so much noise that we didn't hear the bell that signaled the beginning of classes. We also didn't notice the teacher standing in the doorway, until a voice announced: "Girls, the teacher's here!" We hurried to our places.

"Good morning, girls," she said in a calm voice. "I see you're having a great time."

"Yes," answered Yael, whose enthusiasm was still at a height. "We're very happy today." Her words caused yet another outburst of glee.

"Very nice. It's good to be happy. Perhaps you'll share your reason for happiness with me as well?"

Confused silence reigned.

"What's the matter? Don't you want to make me happy too?" Silence. Hesitant smiles.

"Chedvah," the teacher said, turning to her, "First of all, when I was standing at the door I noticed that you were at the center of the activity. Perhaps you can tell me what happened?"

"It's, um, nothing special. Teacher. Just... nothing."

"Still, I can see that it is something - and something happy, it would seem." Our teacher wasn't backing down.

"It's happy as long as the teacher doesn't know about it." Ruthy was a girl who didn't think a lot before she let words slip out of her mouth. "If we tell the teacher, we won't be able to be happy anymore." Tension was felt in the room. Chedvah fixed a pair of furious eyes on Ruthy. What would happen now? How would the mechanechet react?

It seemed that Ruthy's thoughtless remark amused the teacher. A tiny smile, which she tried unsuccessfully to hide, fluttered around her lips. She had a special talent for smiling just at the moment when any other teacher would have begun to yell, get angry, launch a major investigation. It was a sign that she understood things, this woman! And that was even more dangerous, because a teacher like that can wreck everything.

"If so, I don't want to know any more details. I don't want to ruin your happiness." And as if nothing had happened, she went on to begin a regular day of learning.

The next day was even hotter and dryer. I can't remember ever being so happy during a heat wave. The hotter the day, the more we would enjoy swimming in the ocean.

That afternoon, I told my mother about our plan. Of course, I went out of my way to explain that all the girls had thought up the idea together, and I didn't want to be the exception. I didn't mention the part about skipping the history lesson. After hearing me out, my mother wrinkled her nose. Basically, the idea didn't appeal to her. On the other hand, she realized that I was concerned about becoming socially accepted in my new class, and therefore she leaned towards adopting a soft stance and allowing me to take part in "the crazy trip," as she called our plan - just so I wouldn't be different from my friends.

"One thing I don't understand," my mother puzzled. "Why did you decide to go all the way to Tel Aviv? What's wrong with a swimming pool here in Jerusalem?"

"Swimming pool? Fooey, Mom! What can you do in a swimming pool? All the fun is swimming in the waves - topping them, diving under them, letting the surf pull you back to the beach..."

Apparently I started to get carried away. My mother smiled. "Nu, nu, O.K., that's enough. The more you go into ecstasy about it, the more you persuade me not to let you go. When will you get back, did you say? About six? I just want to know when to start worrying about you."

When I got to class the next morning, I found out that all the girls had got their parents permission for the planned trip. The girls who lived in the dorm all planned to take part. They hadn't even bothered to ask permission. The only exception was Peninah, who announced that she wasn't going with us. She didn't explain why. We tried to probe and discover her reason, but she avoided giving an answer. Our questions seemed to disconcert her, and also to darken her mood. Once, when Dalyah went up to her and tried to find out why she wasn't coming with us - and she approached her in a very friendly manner, without being critical at all, I thought I saw tears welling up in Peninah's eyes.

"They don't have money," I heard Chedvah whisper to Yael. "They're actually impoverished. Don't you see how thin she is? They hardly even have food in their house!"

It's a good thing Peninah didn't hear what Chedvah said. She surely would have been very hurt. It was true, though, that Peninah was very thin. Tall, but thin. The bones of her hands and cheeks stuck out, as if only skin was hanging on them. It was strange that we had never connected this with the possibility that there might not be enough to eat in her house.

"So what will be?" someone asked Peninah. "You'll stay for the history lesson? The only one in the class? And you'll tell the teacher where we disappeared to?"

Peninah was confused. She didn't know what to answer.

"She doesn't have to stay in class," someone suggested. "She can go home. That way she won't snitch on the class."

This last remark hurt Peninah's feelings very much. She lowered her head, her face turning bright red.

Once again. Anat's calming voice intervened. "Peninah, for her own reasons, doesn't want to go along. Your remark was out of place, Ruthy. Next time, think twice before you say something."

Ruthy lowered her head and mumbled something like, "Don't you tell me what to do." But she took care not to be heard too clearly.

"Yes, yes. She almost ruined everything for us. How did you dare to talk like that to the mechanechet. You almost gave away the secret."

Anat ignored this last remark. "And you should know," she continued, "that Peninah isn't the only one who's not going to the beach. I'm also planning to stay here."

"You? Anat, you're not going with us?" A number of shocked voices sounded the question simultaneously. But I heard only my own voice. From everything I knew of Anat until now, I had been sure that she would come with us. It never occurred to me that she might do anything else.

"I've decided to stay here," Anat answered calmly. "For the history lesson?" asked a chorus of indignant voices.

"I don't know yet whether I'll stay for the lesson. But I'm definitely not going with you."

Did I only imagine that a look of relief and happiness came into Peninah's eyes?

"But, why, Anat? It's not like you! You always go with the whole class."

"Well, this time, I'm not. And, believe me, I thought a lot before I made my decision. I wish I could say the same about the rest of you. You made up your minds without thinking!"

That stubborn Anat! Once she decided about something, and was sure she was in the right, it was impossible to change her mind. But I - what was I going to do? How could I go without Anat? But it was so hard for me to give up the idea of the trip, especially after I had looked forward to it so much. Should I go? Or should I stay?

"Maybe, all the same, you'll come with us, Anat?" I tried to persuade her. "You told me that you love to go to the beach." "True," she smiled. But she didn't say any more.

As the day went on, I kept nudging her, hoping that I might be able to talk her into it at the last minute. But I got nowhere. At the last break - not the one when we had planned to make our getaway, but the one before that - Anat came to me and said: "Understand, Tammi. You don't have to feel guilty as if you were leaving me behind. You don't owe me anything. No one tied you to me, and you're free to do whatever you want. Believe me, I won't be mad at you at all."

I reddened. Could I answer Anat and explain that it was I who had tied myself to her? That whatever Anat was unwilling to do seemed forbidden to me, and that the only way it could become permissible in my eyes was if Anat would come with us, with me?

I fought a hard battle with myself. In the end, of course, the winner was - the beach. At quarter to one, exactly when the bell rang - no, sorry, half a minute after the bell rang, for we waited until the Torah teacher had left the class and disappeared down the stairs, we grabbed our briefcases and escaped from the classroom. I paused a minute by Anat. "If...if I don't see you before Sukkot, have a happy holiday."

"You, too. Have a happy holiday." She smiled at me. But why did it seem to me that her smile was more sad than happy? Could it be that, in spite of what she had said to me before, she was angry with me? Or was something else bothering her? I didn't think about it deeply. My friends were calling me, and I hurried after them.

We got to the beach about a quarter past two. It was still very hot, and as soon as we touched the water we went crazy. All at once we forgot everything and dashed into the waves. We floated, dived. Some of the girls, including me, knew how to swim. We held a swimming race. We played in the water and in the sand. I didn't at all regret coming. I didn't even think about Anat. Let her stay in the class if she wanted. She could study history, if that was what she preferred. As for me, even if I got punished afterwards, it was better to go to the beach!

At quarter to three they appeared. Anat, and right beside her, Peninah. We pounced on them in our excitement. "What are you two doing here? Did the history teacher agree to let you go?"

"The history teacher never even came," Peninah answered.

"What? What are you talking about? What does that mean?" everyone clamored. For a minute, it got so noisy that I thought our loud voices even silenced the thundering surf.

"About five minutes after you left," Peninah explained patiently, "a girl from one of the other classes came. She said that the office had sent her to announce that the history teacher hadn't come today, and we could go home an hour early."

"Great! Now for sure we won't get punished. The teacher didn't show up anyway!" Yael rejoiced.

"Just the opposite," said Chedvah, disappointed. "It means we ran away for nothing." For her, the minute the trip became allowed, it lost all its charm.

And I? I was simply delighted. Now Anat was with us too! And besides that, I was relieved that it turned out we hadn't done anything wrong. True, I hadn't been especially bothered by it before, but apparently somewhere in my unconscious it had disturbed me. Especially next to a friend like Anat. "But what is Peninah doing here? What made her suddenly change her mind?" someone remembered to ask.

Anat hurried to answer, before Peninah's consternation could become obvious.

"Peninah told me why she refused to join the trip at first, and I persuaded her to change her mind."

We all accepted this explanation. Peninah looked relaxed. But again I managed to overhear Chedvah whispering to Yael: "Anat must have given her money for the bus tickets." I had never thought of that. If that was really the reason for Peninah's change of heart, Anat deserved a blessing. She had a heart of gold, that girl.