The next day, too, I had to stay home. But this time it was more pleasant, perhaps because Shuki and Natti were feeling better. They both still had a little fever, but Natti wasn't coughing constantly as he had been the day before, and Shuki hardly complained at all about his ears hurting him.

"It can't be that the medicine helped them in one day," I told my mother. It was a logical theory, wasn't it? "Therefore obviously their condition would have improved even without the medicine. So maybe it would be a good idea to stop feeding them that poison?" But my words were in vain. Actually, I had known from the start that my mother wouldn't agree.

The chilly weather that had prevailed for the last few days cleared up. One could even call it hot. Maybe that improved my mood. That day I enjoyed staying home. Shuki and Natti behaved very well. Shuki told Natti a story, while I relaxed luxuriously on the living-room couch. My situation now was certainly better than that of my friends who were sitting in class hunched over their books and notebooks, listening to the teacher. Who's teaching now? I wondered. That's right, now is geography. It's certainly better, I decided, to sit at home licking an ice-cream, as I was doing now - one of my hobbies is eating ice-cream in winter - than to study geography. All the same, I couldn't help being bothered by a feeling of boredom. It was alright to stay home for a day or two, but more than that I would never agree to! I thought about my friends in class. Suddenly, I began to miss them. Especially Anat. I hoped she would come to visit me today, as she had yesterday.

Anat didn't let me down. In the afternoon she arrived, but she began her visit by telling me apologetically that this time she couldn't stay with me for very long.

"I have to go someplace," she said, and before I had time to wonder whether it would be polite to ask her where, she explained: "I promised Peninah I would come and visit her today."

"Peninah!" I was very surprised. Why her? "Is there some kind of test tomorrow that she asked you to help her study for?" Peninah was not the type of girl that friends usually wanted to visit. She had no social prestige in the class. Academically, too, she was one of the weakest, even though I sometimes got the impression that she was making a big effort to achieve.

"Why shouldn't I visit Peninah?" Anat probed me attentively. "Have you found something wrong with her?"

"No." I tried to explain. One couldn't talk about such subjects with Anat. She wasn't like the rest of us; she was different. She wouldn't understand. I could just picture the pair of eyes she would fix on me if I said that Peninah wasn't socially popular in the class; that her test scores were among the lowest, that her clothes were old, threadbare. And as a matter of fact, Anat was right! "Of course I don't have anything against her, but Peninah..." No, I couldn't explain. "I didn't think you and she were such good friends that you would go to visit her," I said all in one breath, happy for the flash of inspiration that had rescued me.

"If that's the case, then you should know that in the past few weeks I've had a chance to get friendly with her. I've talked with her a number of times and discovered that she's a wonderful girl. Smart, perceptive, good-hearted, just today we had a talk. I asked her if she wanted me to visit her. Do you want to know the truth? It seemed to me that she wasn't especially enthusiastic about the idea. But she couldn't tell me no. I was quick to explain that if it was hard for her, I didn't have to come today especially. I could come another time. But she suddenly changed her mind and said that it was O.K., I could come. So I promised her."

"Stay a tittle," I asked Anat. I couldn't deny the feeling of jealousy that had begun to gnaw at me. Was Anat beginning to get close with Peninah? Deep inside I knew my fears had no logical basis. The fact that Anat was going to visit Peninah didn't prove anything. And even if it was true, Anat had never signed a contract with me not to become friends with any other girl.

"I'll stay," she said, "but not for a long time. Peninah lives far away, and I have to take two buses to get there. And don't forget, I have to get back on time, too. This time I didn't get permission to stay out late. I've got to be back at the dorm for dinner at seven."

I understood. I was a little mad at Peninah - through no fault of hers, of course - and also at Anat. Couldn't she have realized that I had been looking forward to her visit? That after a boring day at home with two little brothers who could drive a person crazy even when they're behaving well, I might want a little longer visit? But of course deep in my heart I knew that Anat didn't owe me anything and actually I would have had no right to complain even if she hadn't bothered to visit me at all. The only thing I should feel towards her was gratitude.

"What's happening in class? Anything new?" I tried to cover up my dissatisfaction. I was sure the answer would be in the negative. But Anat surprised me.

"Yes. Do you know Chagit, from the other ninth-grade class?" I knew who she meant. I still remembered her from the first day of school. "She's transferred into our class."

"You don't mean it!" I said, surprised. "It can't be that she just transferred without any reason."

"To me she said that it was done at her request - that she wasn't happy in her previous class, so she asked to be transferred. That's all I know."

"And what does everyone say?" As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Anat would surety yell at me, 'What difference does it make what everyone is saying? 'Everyone' usually talks nonsense. Their words don't necessarily match the truth...' I knew Anat by now! I corrected myself: "How did the mechanechet explain it?"

"She didn't try to explain it at all. She just asked us to give Chagit a nice reception and treat her properly."

"Just a minute." I remembered something important. "Where does she sit?" There were thirty-two girls in the class, seated in four columns of desks. In every column there were eight girls, at four tables. "Did they bring in another table?"

Anat smiled. "I was waiting for just that question. They didn't bring in another table, the mechanechet put Chagit next to us, at our table."

"What!" I cried, shocked.

"She decided that we three should sit together. We have a new table. You know the new tables, the one's covered with blue formica? They're longer."

"A historical precedent," I declared unenthusiastically. "And why at our table?"

Anat tried to swallow a smile. "The mechanechet said that we were the only ones she could depend on that this kind of seating arrangement wouldn't lead to disturbances in class. She said that our 'trio' could be trusted not to waste our time chattering or fooling around."

That was the first time, to the best of my recollection, that I was sorry Anat was such a good girl, a girl who demanded of herself that she set an example for others. Undoubtedly Anat was the one the mechanechet had been talking about when she had said that she trusted "us" and was sure about "us." By myself, without Anat, I was no different - in terms of disturbing the teachers - from any other girl in the class. And now, because of Anat's good habits, they had put Chagit with us! Who needed her? I wanted to be the only one sitting with Anat!

In the morning I had waited impatiently for Anat's visit. But after she had gone, I felt very grumpy. For a minute I thought it would have been better if she hadn't come at all and told me the news. I was filled with a feeling of bitterness. The news about Chagit's joining our table upset me. Anat's 'running away' so quickly to visit Peninah also disappointed me. I looked for a scapegoat on which to take out my anger, and got mad at our mechanechet. Why hadn't she consulted us before deciding to put Chagit next to us? Why hadn't she bothered to find out if we agreed? I was mad at Peninah, and also at Anat.

It didn't make me any happier when my mother came back earlier than usual from the hospital and announced joyfully that Boaz felt much better and probably would be sent home on Friday.

"Boaz didn't mind staying by himself?" I asked, not because it really interested me, but because I knew that my father was still at the store.

"Actually, he probably would have agreed to stay by himself, because his condition has greatly improved. He can already get out of bed without me or Father to help him - something that had restricted him very much the past few days. He's also made a few friends his own age, so he's not too bored. But all the same, I didn't leave him alone. Grandpa and Grandma arrived to visit him, and they'll stay with him until the evening. Tonight Father won't sleep at the hospital. Boaz assured us he could manage by himself. I also think he's grown-up enough that we don't have to inconvenience Father too much. And especially since his condition is much better, there's no reason why we have to be at his bedside around the clock."

"Will Grandpa and Grandma visit us too?" I asked. I loved my grandparents, and hadn't seen them for a long time, actually not since we had moved to Jerusalem. They lived in Haifa, which was too far way for frequent visits.

"What do you think, they'd come to Jerusalem and not visit their dear grandchildren?" Mother smiled, but I didn't. "Of course they'll come! And they're even staying over Shabbat."

At any other time, I would have been jumping out of my skin with happiness. Now, I simply surprised my mother - and myself - with a question. "Did Grandpa and Grandma bring a present for Boaz?" I myself didn't understand what had happened to me. How had I suddenly become such a jealous type? Was it just because of Anat and Peninah and Chagit? Or had the tension of the past few days affected me?

My mother was surprised, but I could tell she was trying not to show it. In a restrained voice she replied: "Did you ever see Grandpa and Grandma visit a sick grandchild in the hospital without bringing a present? Of course they brought Boaz a present! In fact, they brought something for each of you, and this time the gifts are especially big," she said with a smile, patting me on the back, "- because this time they're in honor of our move to the new apartment, and also for Channukah presents. Grandpa and Grandma won't be able to visit us at Channukah time."

Mother was trying to raise my spirits a bit, but I wasn't at all cheered up by her last statement, about the presents. Instead I asked: "What did Boaz get?"

"What's happened to you, Tammi. Is something wrong?" she probed. "It's not like you to ask such questions!"

"What's the matter?" I excused myself with pretended indifference. "Can't a person ask?"

Mother shrugged her shoulders. "Boaz got a small portable electric organ. I'm sure the whole hospital is already hearing the music of our little composer. I imagine the nurses are going crazy... or at least using earplugs."

I didn't let my mother continue. "An electric organ! - but that's just what I've been asking for for such a long time! It's not fair. Mom! I should have gotten it!"

"Sorry, Tammi," Mother said coolly. "I didn't order the presents. Grandpa and Grandma decided on their own what to buy. I think it would be an act of ingratitude on your part if you make an outburst like this in front of Grandpa and Grandma. You should say thank you and be happy with whatever you get."

"I don't need any presents!" I think I was shouting. "Boaz for sure won't let me play his organ. What a brother. He only thinks about himself all the time. And because of him I worked so hard these last few days! He doesn't have to come back from the hospital, I don't need him, because he's so naughty, such a wild kid. For that he deserves a prize? O.K., tomorrow I'm going to jump off something high and break something... maybe a leg..."

Mother came over and tried to put her hand on my shoulder, but I slipped away quickly and ran to my room. I threw myself on my bed and immediately broke down in uncontrollable crying. I didn't consider myself too big to cry, and my mother sensibly left me to myself. If she had come in and tried to calm me or cheer me up, it would only have made me more angry.

When I came out of my room I was almost completely calm. The crying had gotten rid of all my feelings of anger and egoism. The only thing left was a remnant of indifferent bitterness, deep deep within, in a place where one has to work hard to get it out. I washed my face and eyes with plenty of water, and looked almost normal. To my relief, none of the family mentioned anything to me about my behavior, and that afternoon I also didn't say a word about it.

It was late in the evening, but Grandpa and Grandma hadn't yet arrived. The boys were already in pajamas, waiting impatiently for the important guests.

"You know what, Tammi?" Shuki whispered to me excitedly, glancing sideways at Mom to make sure she wasn't listening, "Grandpa and Grandma bought us presents in honor of our new apartment!"

I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. "So what," was all I answered, and Shuki looked at me as if I were not in my right mind.

Grandpa and Grandma arrived. They squeezed the breath out of us with their hugs, and thoroughly plastered us with kisses. At a certain point in the evening, the time arrived for the presents, which really were very special this time. Arik got a microscope, and immediately got busy with it, investigating how many germs he could discover on the palm of his hand. This evening Mother made an exception and allowed all the children to stay up late. To Shuki, Grandpa and Grandma gave binoculars. "But don't you dare spy into peoples' houses!" Grandma warned him. Natti got a little tricycle, and immediately began racing around the whole house on it.

"Didn't Tammi get a present?" Arik asked in wonder when he saw there were no more presents and I still hadn't received anything.

"We didn't know what to buy for Tammi," Grandma explained. "She's a big girl already, and maybe there's something she specially wants. We decided it would be too bad to buy her a present without asking her opinion first. It might be that we could make her happier with a different gift..."

I almost shouted, "Great! I want an organ like the one Boaz got!" but caught myself in time. I wouldn't ask for anything. I lowered my head and didn't answer.

"Nu, Tammi, what do you want?"

"Nothing," I muttered. I knew I wasn't telling the truth, but I couldn't bring myself to ask for anything. Mother glanced at me and smiled understandingly. Was it also a happy smile, or was I just imagining it?

"That can't be, Tammi!" Grandma exclaimed as if in disbelief. "There must be something that you want very much!"

"Why didn't you ask me?" Shuki complained. "I would have asked for an airplane ticket to America instead of binoculars."

"And I would have wanted a ship!" Natti cried enthusiastically, having returned from his tricycle journey around the house and decided, apparently, that it had been too short and boring. "A real ship, that goes on the ocean! And I would be the driver, and drive to the whole world!"

Everyone laughed. I understood that I couldn't get out of giving an answer. "Not now. Grandma," I said, "Tonight I can't make up my mind. I'll think about it, and when I know what I want, I'll tell you. Getting a present is not so urgent, thank you very much!"

"She didn't get anything yet, and she's already saying thank- you," Grandma joked. "Who knows what she's planning to ask for!"

In spite of everything it turned out in the end to be a pleasant and enjoyable evening. I almost forgot what had happened earlier that morning. But I was reminded when I arrived at school the next day - Grandpa and Grandma had taken my place babysitting - and saw the long, blue table that stood in the place of our previous one. Anat and Chagit were already sitting in their seats, chatting like old friends. When I got to my place Anat said to me: "We were waiting for you, Tammi. We wanted to know where you're interested in sitting, on the end or in the middle?"

"I'll sit in the middle," I answered quickly. Although it wasn't such a comfortable place, at least I would be separating Anat and Chagit.

At the ten o'clock break Anat asked to speak with me. I didn't let my happiness show. We strolled around the schoolyard, and Anat opened the conversation: "It's about my visit yesterday to Peninah."

I bit my lower lip. Was she going to start telling me how much she had enjoyed it, and what a warm, friendly atmosphere she had found, despite the humble surroundings? Was she going to tell me again enthusiastically that Peninah was a wonderful girl?

But Anat said just three words: "I was shocked." Then she stopped and took a long, deep breath. Only now did I notice the tense expression on her face.

After a moment she continued: "I still haven't managed to calm down from what I saw."

"What did you see?" I asked, feeling myself pulled into her emotional state. "Is the situation all that terrible?" "More terrible than you can imagine! The one who opened the door for me was Peninah's mother. Peninah is thin, right?"

"Very thin," I agreed.

"What would you say if I told you that her mother is twice as thin as she is?"

"Impossible!" I cried incredulously. "Thinner than Peninah?"

"I told you. Twice as thin as her!" Anat repeated emotionally. "It was frightening to see her... like a walking skeleton."

We were both silent for a long moment, until Anat continued:

"I went in. Her mother welcomed me with a smile. Peninah was waiting for me, a little embarrased. Would you like to know what kind of house they live in?" I prepared myself for the worst.

"Half of their house is a tin hut. Poverty is crying out from every corner. The other half of the house consists of one room and a small kitchen. The walls are leaning over; the furniture is falling apart... In that one room her parents and her baby brother sleep. The other two boys sleep in the kitchen, on mattresses straight out of the Middle Ages, and the five girls sleep in the tin hut, all together on one big bed made out of a few mattresses, which completely fills the hut. Peninah told me that when the family got bigger and the house became too small, her father 'built' that so-called 'extra room'. Since it's made from tin, it's boiling hot there in the summer, and freezing cold in winter. The rain leaks in through the cracks between the roof and the wall, drips down on the beds, and soaks the girls sleeping there. And do you think they have regular blankets? You won't believe what they cover themselves with! I almost fainted when I saw the heap of old clothes, torn thin blankets, frazzled curtains - I asked what it was, and Peninah told me, trying to hide her embarrassment, 'Those are our blankets.' When I asked her, 'Aren't you cold at night?' guess what Peninah answered me. 'Of course we're cold. So we go to bed early, and that way we don't feel the cold.' And that's not all yet, Tammi!" Anat's feelings were storming. "But from the description you've heard, you can understand how serious the situation is. We've got to do something!"

"What can we do?" I was very skeptical. "After all, we're only young girls."

"If we want, we can do a lot. And we're already not such little girls."

"Maybe we could buy a lottery ticket for them?" I suggested.

"Be realistic, Tammi," Anat answered patiently. "How do you know our ticket would win? Anyway, we have to do something urgently, immediately, without waiting around until luck smiles on us..."

"But what can we do?" I was out of ideas. "Give me a suggestion. I'm willing to do whatever you tell me!"

"We have to collect clothes for them. You've seen how Peninah dresses."

I thought about the feelings of repulsion I had felt towards Peninah because of her frazzled clothes, and I was ashamed of myself. Was it her fault that her economic situation was so poor? I also remembered how I had felt about her homework and test scores. Now I could understand her situation. It wasn't for nothing that our Sages said: "Don't judge your fellow man until you stand in his place." If I were in her place, I wouldn't be able to study and do homework, either. I wondered where she did her schoolwork. In the kitchen, where her big, crowded family ate and her brothers slept? Or in the so-called 'bedroom,' sitting on one of the mattresses with her little sisters jumping all around and acting wild? Or maybe in her parents' room, which no doubt also had plenty going on in it in a family like that?

"We also have to make sure they get warm blankets," Anat went on. "Another thing that's extremely important is to stop all the leaks in the roof. Winter is almost here. As for a different, more comfortable apartment, we'll talk about that afterwards. In the meantime, it's very important that the rain shouldn't leak into the 'girls' room.' It would also be good if we arrange for food to be sent to their home, let's say once a week. Anonymously, of course..."

"How are you going to do all that?" I asked skeptically. "Are you going to go from door to door asking for clothes and blankets?"

Anat reflected for a moment. "I thought about that," she answered. "We can't organize all this by ourselves. We have to get someone grown up to help us. I think we should talk to our teacher about it. As the mechanechet of the class, she has a certain amount of responsibility for the situation of her students."

"Won't you be embarrassed to talk with her about a subject like this?"

"Embarrased?" Anat didn't understand what I was talking about. "One of our friends needs help. Why shouldn't I speak with anyone I think can help us? So what if she's our mechanechet That's exactly why..."

"I've got an idea!" I broke in. Quickly, I told Anat about yesterday's events, explaining all about the organ. "Grandpa and Grandma are waiting to hear what I want for a present - now I know what to ask for! I'll ask that instead of giving me a present, they'll give me the money they had set aside for my present. I won't tell anyone what I'm going to do with the money. It will be the first contribution to the fund for helping out Peninah's family!"

Anat gave me a long look. Then she asked very softly, "Are you sure you're willing to give up the present you have coming to you?"

"Of course I don't want to give it up," I admitted frankly. "Obviously I'd prefer to get a present. But when I think what is more important - that I should get a present, some kind of thing which is certainly a luxury for me, or that Peninah's family should sleep under warm blankets starting this winter - I don't have any doubt which is more important."

Anat didn't fall all over me with praise and compliments. I hadn't expected her to. She just said: "It's very nice of you to think like that. All the same, Tammi, it would be better if you think it over carefully before you make a final decision, so that you won't have regrets afterwards."

"I'd better not think," I answered. "The more I think about it, the less I'll want to give up my present, and yet I know that's the right thing to do!"

Anat didn't answer this comment of mine, she just smiled. That same afternoon, I told Grandpa and Grandma that I was interested in receiving money instead of a present. They were a little surprised, but agreed without probing into the matter too much. Grandma did try to find out if I was interested in opening a savings account at the bank, but Grandpa interrupted her, saying, "Let our Tammi alone. Grandma. She's already a big enough girl that we don't have to mix into her business. I'm sure she has something good in mind to do with the money."

I thought to myself that in fact I was going to open a savings account, but in a much safer bank than the ones people use so much. My savings would be deposited in the bank of the Holy One, Blessed is He...

Anat, too, didn't sit around twiddling her thumbs. The next day she told me that she had gone to the mechanechet's home to speak to her - after making an appointment beforehand, of course - and that our rescue plan was getting into high gear.

"Wasn't the mechanechet surprised when you brought up the idea?" I still couldn't believe that Anat, a fourteen-year-old girl, was acting in such a grown-up way, enlisting the cooperation of people many years older than her.

"If she was surprised, she didn't show it. What did shock her was that such a serious situation had escaped her notice. She promised that she would speak with teachers, neighbors, friends, and relatives, and organize urgent help - without revealing the name of the needy family, of course, she promised me that. I don't want to put Peninah in the uncomfortable position of everyone pointing at her - even if they would do it only behind her back. The mechanechet also said there is a possibility of getting them an apartment in which they can live like human beings, for a nominal monthly payment. There are government-financed housing companies that have large numbers of apartments which they rent out for a small sum to families qualifying for help - and Peninah's family certainly qualifies!"

"It looks like things are beginning to move in the right direction," I said, handing Anat an envelope that contained my contribution - which, to tell the truth, was quite a considerable sum of money. "And it's all because of you, Anat. Only you are capable of bringing about wonders like this! Anyone else in your place would have let matters go along as they had been, without making the effort to change the situation."

"I don't think anyone in the world would have been able to ignore a situation like that if they had seen it with their own eyes, as I did. It's simply shocking."

On Friday around noon, Boaz came home. Except for the bandage that stood out prominently on his forehead and the fact that he had gotten a little thinner, he was the same boy I remembered from before he went to the hospital. Outwardly, I mean. Inwardly, as I very soon found out, this was a different Boaz.

"How do you feel, Boaz?" I asked, just because I felt I was supposed to.

"Thank G-d, O.K." he answered with a politeness I wasn't used to from him. "And how are you? Mom told me you worked very hard at home while I was gone."

"True." I didn't deny it. "The important thing is that it's over now."

Boaz opened up his bag which he had brought back with him, and with a spirit of generosity I never knew was in him, began passing around sweets to his brothers who hadn't had the "privilege" of being in the hospital.

"Stop, Boaz, enough!" Mother decided. "They can't eat so many sweets all at one time. We'll save the rest for Shabbat. We'll make a little party for you and your friends, to thank Hashem for your recovery."

"What's in that little bag?" Shuki asked, when he realized that the unexpected shower of sweets had stopped.

"Those are presents I got," Boaz said. "I'll show them to you one at a time - but don't you dare touch anything without permission! I don't want everything to get broken and ruined in a minute. This is a magnetic chess set, but only Tammi and Arik are allowed to play with it, if they want. Anyway Shuki and Natti don't know the rules. And this is a helicopter that really flies." Boaz pushed a button on the side of the toy and demonstrated for us. "See how it takes off... circles... and sets down!" The little boys got excited. Boaz thought for a moment and then decided: "O.K., I agree to give the helicopter as a gift to Shuki and Natti. But only on condition that they don't fight over it!"

What happened to Boaz? I wondered. He never used to be so good-hearted and generous.

"And this is a book I got from one of my friends. Of course, it's still mine, but Tammi and Arik are allowed to read it... and this is the present I got from Grandpa and Grandma." He pulled out the last item.

My brothers pounced on him with excitement. "Let us play it a little!" they begged. I stood off to one side. My eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets from envy. I too had once had it within my power to get myself an organ like that, with its brilliant white keys, its black keys above, and any number of buttons at the side which no doubt could produce wonderful sounds, sweet to the ear, didn't even go over to look at the organ close up. For sure Boaz wouldn't allow anyone to touch it - and I didn't want to beg. I wasn't about to let him see how much I yearned to try playing it.

"I don't allow anyone to touch my organ!" Boaz decreed. What I allowed, I allowed. The organ is only for me!"

There. I knew it. Something had happened to Boaz that had changed him for the better. But even that change had its limits. And really... I didn't have time to finish the thought before I heard Boaz's voice: "The only one I allow to play the organ sometimes is Tammi. She's big enough to be careful with it. I trust her to take good care of it and not break it." I fixed a pair of amazed eyes on him as he continued: "Come here, Tammi. I'll explain to you how to use all the buttons. I met a boy in the hospital who taught me what every button is for. I had plenty of time to practice. It'll be nice when we can play it together, with two hands..."

I forgot my pride, my indifference, my anger at Boaz. We left our little brothers grumbling behind us, and went into my room, where Boaz showed me how to operate all the magic buttons. I already knew the notes, more or less. We tried playing different tunes - sometimes a little off key, and sometimes getting stuck and not knowing how to continue.

"That's only at the beginning," Boaz promised. "The more we practice, the better we'll know how to play it. That's what my friend in the hospital told me. He plays great, and he learned by himself!"

Playing the organ together made us better friends. I wasn't afraid to ask him, "Boaz, why are you allowing me to play on the organ?"

He smiled in embarrassment. "It's... for two reasons. The first one is that when I was lying in the hospital Mom took care of me with so much devotion that I felt like I had to give her a present. But what could I give her? Then suddenly I remembered that her birthday is coming soon. Don't you think it would be wonderful to make her a surprise party? We can play the organ, and the little children can sing... and I want you to help me."

"Great!" I said enthusiastically. "I see you must have been bored there in the hospital. Otherwise you wouldn't have thought of such a brilliant idea. You know what else we can do? I'll write a song in honor of Mom, together we'll put it to music, and that song, sung by all the children, will be a birthday present for her!"

"And you, I see, don't even have to be stuck in the hospital to come up with terrific ideas!" Boaz said.

A compliment from Boaz? That was something I wasn't used to at all. Then I remembered that he had started out by saying that there were two reasons. I asked about the second one. Boaz reddened. "But you won't tell anyone?" Only after I had promised did he agree to reveal his secret to me, which clarified what had brought about the surprising generosity he had shown today.

"That's also a present for Mom," he explained. "I know how dissatisfied she is with my behavior. Every once in a while she complains about how egotistic I am, and only think about myself. It never bothered me personally. It was convenient for me to worry just about myself. Until I saw how Mom was willing to give up everything for me - and then my conscience started bothering me. That's what grownups call it, right? I started feeling sorry for how I acted. Dad and Mom took such good care of me and tried to make things easy for me, and I... I never thought about anyone else. I felt like I was getting treatment I didn't deserve. So I decided that from now on I would try to deserve that kind of treatment."

"That's why you gave out your things?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Right. It was real hard for me. It's not easy to change and act the complete opposite of how you acted before. But I made up my mind - so I had to stick to it! I thought of some things my teacher taught me in the Talmud-Torah. He said we're supposed to walk on the 'golden path,' in other words in the middle, not to be extreme in any one direction. But he said that when a person has a certain fault that's already extreme, he has to first go all the way to the other extreme, and do just the opposite of how he was used to acting, and from there after a while he'll get back to the middle, the 'golden path.' So that's how I'm planning to fix my problem of selfishness."

We both were silent. Boaz must have been in the mood for sharing his feelings, for after a few minutes of silence he went on.

"You know, Tammi, the first day when I was lying in the hospital, I was sure I was going to die! I'd never been in a hospital before, and everything around me scared me. Mom cried, Dad looked pale and worried, and the doctors had serious faces. At first, of course, I didn't know what was going on around me, but when I came to I heard words like 'unconscious... concussion'... I was so weak I couldn't even talk. And I was sure that my condition was fatal. I wanted so much not to die! I was afraid! I was afraid that in a little while my soul would go up to heaven, and there they would show me the charge sheet for everything I had done in this world, and send me straight to Gehinnom. During those minutes I decided that if the Holy One, Blessed is He, would help me and I would be saved and stay alive, I would try to be better... to act like I should..."

"Poor Boaz!" His story made me feel pity for him. "What a terrible experience! But you weren't close to dying at all. Your condition wasn't all that bad."

"Now I know that. But then, when I was lying in bed surrounded by green walls, and by doctors who were also dressed in green - lots of doctors, and nurses, and all kinds of machines - it was impossible for me not to feel sure I was going to die. And even though I know now, all the same I intend to keep my promise that I promised in those scary minutes. But do you promise you won't tell anyone?" His voice had a pleading tone. The truth is that I would have wanted to tell someone. Anat, of course. But his imploring eyes forced me to promise. Was this the beginning of a new era in the relationship between me and my brother Boaz?

"Right." But she wasn't impressed by my talent for mind- reading. She had long before revealed to me her "secret code" for reading her feelings. "My eyes are green today, I suppose."

"Didn't you look in the mirror this morning?" She smiled at my answer, but her lips were trembling a little.

"Did something happen?" I was starting to get worried.

"No, nothing happened. I'm upset because I've found out something I don't understand. Something extremely puzzling. But before that, I have good news. It's about Peninah." A small cloud appeared on my forehead, and disappeared as fast as it had come. "I had a talk with my parents," Anat continued. "They are willing to deposit a certain amount of money every month in Peninah's parents' bank account. All I have to do now is find out the account number. I don't suppose that will be especially hard. Don't I have marvellous parents? They're so understanding! It's just too bad that..." She bit her lip and stopped herself in mid-sentence, but I knew what the next words would have been if she had said them: '...too bad they don't understand that they, too, should live like Jews...'

Anat never used words like "religious" and "non-religious." "There's no such thing," she once explained to me. "We're all Jews. There aren't any non-religious Jews. Non-religious means, 'secular, non-holy,' and the Jewish people are all holy. It's just that unfortunately there are Jews who don't act like Jews, like sons and daughters of the Jewish people. They try to resemble non-Jews. But whether they like it or not, they remain Jews, a holy people, sons and daughters of the Holy One, Blessed is He." That's how Anat explained it to me, and I agreed with her.

I didn't pry into what was bothering her this morning. I knew she would tell me herself. She didn't keep me waiting long.

"When I got home Friday, no one was in the house. My parents were still at work. I went in, put away all my things in their regular places and then, as I always do, looked around to see what was new at home. You know, it's pleasant to get back home after three weeks of being far away from your house. When I come home, I always roam through the rooms, look on all the shelves, peek into all the drawers - only the ones used by the whole family, of course - sniff the familiar, beloved smell of my house, discover new things that have been added while I was away, go through the mail to see if there are any letters for me. I don't open my parents' mail, but this letter was different. It wasn't in a sealed envelope. By chance it was stuck between the pages of a book my mother was in the middle of reading. I picked up the book, and two sheets of paper fluttered to the floor. I picked them up and started to read them, just out of curiosity, but then couldn't stop. It was a very strange letter, written in English, in an unfamiliar handwriting. The first words gave me a jolt. Fortunately, there was a chair right by me, otherwise I would have fallen on the floor. The first line of the letter said:

"My dear mother..."

For a moment I didn't take in what Anat was telling me. But then I understood. She shook herself out of her sudden silence. "I couldn't help reading it, not knowing if it was right or wrong to do so. I translated the letter and copied it down. I just had to share this discovery with someone!" With that, she opened her schoolbag, took out a folded piece of notepaper, and held it out to me.

I read. It was a very ordinary letter, which no one would have found surprising at all, if it hadn't been - if it hadn't been so totally unexplainable.

My Dear Mother.

Everything is O.K. with me, and I hope with you, too. I haven't written for a while. I simply haven't had a spare moment. We were in the middle of finals at the university, and I wanted to do well. By now I can tell you that I did very well on the finals, and got very high grades. One thing I've certainly inherited from you is your sharp mind. I hope you're proud of me and happy to hear the good news.

How are Eli and Anat? Nothing that you've been telling me in your recent letters surprises me at all. It was obvious to me from the beginning that this would happen sooner or later. How could you have thought that she wouldn't run into someone from her father's family, when you live in the same city with them? And of course the next logical step is that they would influence her to follow their way, and also to go to a school where the education fits their outlook.

Mother! I've received all the pictures you sent me, and enjoyed seeing them very much, but all the same I very much want to see you face to face. And also to see my little sister, who has grown up over the years. You say she very much resembles me, and I can see that when I look at her picture. Why don't you bring her with you for a short visit? Isn't there some way you can get some time off from your work? Perhaps you'll make a special effort, for my sake? I've almost forgotten how you look in real life. It's been almost ten years since the last time I saw you.

I'd better not nag you any more. I'm sure you know how fiercely I long to see you. I would come to visit you myself, except that you've forbidden me to do so. You don't want Anat to know about me. And I respect your wish, even though I don't understand your reason. What's wrong with her knowing that she has a big sister?

"That's as far as I copied," she whispered. "The rest wasn't important."

"You have a big sister?" I asked in surprise, though I knew that on this subject Anat was exactly as well-informed as I.

"That's what I gather from the letter. That I have an older sister and that my mother, for some reason, doesn't want me to know that fact. Why? What could be the reason? Why are my parents hiding this from me? I didn't ask them. I didn't want them to know that I've discovered it. I want to investigate the matter myself. One thing I'm already sure of, My father is not the father of Maggie - that's the name she signed the letter with. She refers to him by his first name, Eli, while she writes of my mother as 'Mother.' She asks how he is, briefly, just for the sake of politeness. She speaks about him as being my father, and hardly discusses him at all. Her letter is concerned with herself, with my mother, and with me. I'm interested to know - who is her father? I never knew that my mother had been married before..."

"A mystery," I agreed. Do you think you'll be able to unravel it?"

"I'm going to try," she murmured. "The matter gives me no rest. But one thing I'm almost sure of, I'm not going to ask my parents for information on the subject."