CHAPTER 1 The Rules at Shul
Up on the bimah, the rabbi talks. In my head, I run through my new gymnastics routine. I finish a perfect cartwheel, then go straight into a back handspring. At the end of the routine, I strike a winning pose. I nailed it!
Everyone cheers for me. I can see my best friend, Maya, and my dad and my brother and Coach Kayla and even my favorite gymnast, Holly Luna. Holly walks toward me, her black hair tied back in her famous ponytail. She is going to talk to me and tell me how awesome I am, and … and …
“Rachel! Arms down!” Dad whispers to me.
Oops. I guess for a moment I forgot that I’m not really at the gym, with my coach and friends cheering me on. Nope! Instead, I am sitting in a hard bench at shul. Shul is Yiddish for synagogue. Some people also say temple. But it doesn’t matter what you call it. Going to shul is BORING.
Don’t get me wrong. I really love being Jewish.
I eat kasha varnishkas and matzo ball soup. Yum!
I dress up every year for Purim. Last year, I was a pirate. Ahoy!
And, best of all, when it’s time for Hanukkah, I get eight presents over eight nights. Hooray!
But services at shul are not even a little bit fun. That’s because there are too many rules for what you’re supposed to do at shul—and what you’re not supposed to do. Most of the rules aren’t written down anywhere, but everyone knows that you have to follow them.
Here are some of the worst ones:
Don’t eat during services in the sanctuary (even when you’re really, really hungry).Keep quiet while the rabbi talks (and the rabbi always talks).Never ever play tag in the hallways (or hide-and-go-seek).Don’t do cartwheels anywhere in the building (even though I am super good at them).All the little rules add up to one big rule:
Don’t have any fun.Now do you see why I don’t like going to shul?
Today, Dad and I are at Shabbat evening services. Shabbat is a Jewish holiday that happens every week, which makes it not a very exciting holiday, in my opinion. Shabbat begins on Friday night and ends on Saturday night, so it’s not even like I get to take a day off from school. (That would make Shabbat much, much better.)
Some people go to Shabbat services every Friday, but not us. We go once or twice a month. My dad says every family has their own way of being Jewish, and this is our way.
Unluckily for me, today is one of the days we’re at Friday night services. I don’t think it’s fair that I have to go tonight, because my big brother, Aaron, isn’t here. He’s away on an overnight trip with his math team. Lucky him!
But Dad thought today would be a good night for services. So I have to sit still while Rabbi Ellen talks and talks and talks some more. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I just wish she could finish a little faster. I have ADHD, so paying attention is sometimes hard for me. Also, Rabbi Ellen is talking about stuff that I don’t really understand. I just want the service to be over so I can have dessert!
Up in the second row, Mr. Goldman snores. He must have trouble paying attention, too. I’m pretty sure sleeping in shul is against the rules, but no one is scolding him. I guess grown-ups can get away with breaking the rules. So unfair.
Well, if he can sleep while the rabbi talks, then maybe I can break the rules, too.
I smile.
CHAPTER 2 Crash Landing
I don’t want to break the rules too badly—I just want to break them a little. I just want to do something—anything!—besides sitting still and being quiet. I hate sitting still and being quiet. So I look around the sanctuary, searching for a fun thing to do. Soon I find it: the program. The program is a piece of paper that someone passes out at the beginning of every service. I don’t know why. They just do. I don’t read the program, because that would be super boring. Lucky for me, I can use the piece of paper for something else. I am going to make an airplane.
Before I begin, I peek at Dad. He is staring at the words in his prayer book, but he has not turned a single page in the last ten minutes. Really, he looks only a little more awake than snoring Mr. Goldman. I don’t think he’ll notice if I decide to break the rules a little. So I fold the program into the nose of an airplane. Next, I give the plane wide wings and a narrow tail.
When I finish, I smile. I did a great job, and my plane is absolutely fantabulous. Now I just need to test it out. I know that it will work. I just know it.
I know I shouldn’t do it. Not now. Not here in synagogue, with all the grown-ups and their rules.
But I want to. My very bestest friend in the whole world, Maya, is sitting two rows in front of me. Even though I can’t see her face, I know she’s bored just like me. I can send my airplane to her as a gift! That will make her super happy. It’s practically my job as her best friend.
If I do it quickly enough, no one will notice. I look at Dad again. He’s still not reading his prayer book and, more important, not paying any attention to me.
I position the plane. I pull my arm back and take aim at Maya’s head. Finally, I let the airplane go. It flies!
My plane soars all the way over Maya’s head and into the next row. The plane goes into a steep dive, sort of like me when I make a mistake on the balance beam.
And then my plane lands straight on Mr. Goldman’s bald head.
Whoops, whoops, and more whoops. I missed big-time, and that means big-time trouble.
All of a sudden, Mr. Goldman wakes up. He makes a noise that sounds like an elephant clearing her throat.
“What?” he says. He is very, very loud. Definitely loud enough for everyone in the sanctuary to hear. Even Rabbi Ellen stops talking about whatever.
Mr. Goldman snaps his head around and scowls at everyone. He is very good at scowling.
I make myself really small so he can’t see me. If he could, I’m sure he would know that I am so, so guilty. But I can’t hide from Dad.
Dad isn’t half asleep now. He is most definitely awake. After he runs a hand through his hair, he gives me a stern look.
“Rachel Friedman, you are in trouble,” he says.
I know. But then I remember the noise Mr. Goldman made when the plane crashed into him, and I giggle. I giggle a lot. Dad gives me another look, but that just makes me laugh even more.
Now everyone knows it was me. People point and stare. I even hear some soft laughing sounds. Maya turns around and gives me a thumbs-up.
Some things are worth getting in a little trouble.
CHAPTER 3 Two Cups of Flour
When Dad said I was in trouble, he meant it. Now I have to clean my cat Cookie’s litter box for two whole weeks. Big yuck! I love Cookie, but I do not like her poop even a little bit.
At least one good thing is happening today: Maya and her moms are coming over for Shabbat dinner! Well, since it’s Saturday now, I guess it’s an after-Shabbat dinner. But that doesn’t matter. The important part is that Maya and I are going to make challah. And Dad is helping a little.
Whenever I make challah, I follow the recipe. A recipe is a list of rules about how to make food—in this case, challah. The first time I made challah, I didn’t follow the rules the right way. When it said “two cups of flour,” I thought that meant I should get out one of our drinking cups. I poured two whole cups in the batter, just like the recipe said. I didn’t know that there were special cups just for measuring stuff. The people who write recipes should be more specific about this, in my opinion. Anyway, this mistake turned out to be a very, very big problem. When I tried to mix the dough, all the flour clogged up our mixer and made a mess.
So now I know that it is important to follow all the instructions.
When I start to make the challah, I am very careful. I pour flour into the measuring cup while Dad watches me. He doesn’t really need to do that, but I guess he wants to make sure that everything goes right.
Next comes my very favorite part—cracking the eggs. Maya doesn’t like doing this, because if you mess up, then your hands get all sticky and gross. But I love it. I grab an egg and knock it against the edge of the counter.
CRACK!
I pull the eggshell apart above the bowl, and the egg yolk whooshes straight into it. It is perfect and round. I smile and then crack three more eggs.
Now it’s time to mix everything. Dad flips the switch, and the ingredients swirl around together in the mixer. When we pull the bowl out, everything is nice and doughy.
The next part is really, really boring. We have to wait for the dough to get bigger. Before we can braid the dough into a loaf, it has to get bigger.
Who wants to wait around and watch dough sit in a bowl? Not me!
So I grab Maya’s arm.
“Let’s have fun,” I say.
CHAPTER 4 Breaking a Rule
Maya and I race up to my room so we can have best-friend time. Dad can make sure that the challah dough doesn’t explode or anything. (Not that it’s going to do anything interesting like that!)
I turn on my computer while Maya lounges on the floor. There are very important things for us to do—like watching videos of Holly Luna online. Holly is the most fantabulous gymnast in the whole wide world. Both of us want to be just like Holly when we grow up.
For now, it would be super awesome just to meet Holly. The good news is, she’s coming to our town in three weeks for a gymnastics show! At the end of the show, some fans will get to meet her. Ever since we found out about it, Maya and I have been on a mission. We’re trying to convince our parents to buy tickets for us.
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Maya says. “Can. Not!”
“Me neither. We should plan the next step of our mission! I’ve asked Dad about it, but he hasn’t said yes for sure. I think maybe I should do something extra dramatic, just to show him how much I want to go. Maybe I can draw a sign and put it up in the living room! What do you think? What did your moms say about it?”
At that, Maya looks like she’s about ready to explode.
“I’ve been dying to tell you … my moms bought tickets for the show yesterday. So mission accomplished for me!”
What? This is big, big news.
“You’re going to meet Holly?!” I squeal, and give my best friend a big hug.
“Yep! Can you believe it? So awesome!”
“Awesome,” I repeat.
Maybe I’m a little less enthusiastic than Maya, but who can blame me?
I am happy for her. Really, I am. But if I’m being honest, then I have to admit that I’m just a teeny bit jealous. I’ve asked Dad about getting tickets a million times. A trillion times! But he always just says “Maybe.” Maybe if the schedule works out. Maybe if I do chores and be good and stuff. Blah, blah, blah. Now Maya gets to go, and she might go without me. If that happens, it will be the unfairest thing in the whole entire universe.
Maya pats me on the arm. “We’ll convince your dad,” she assures me. “Though I don’t know if making a sign is the best idea.”
She’s probably right. I sigh, but I try to smile for Maya.
“Yeah. I’ll convince him.”
“Shake on it?” she asks.
I smile again, and this time it’s a real smile, not a for-show smile. Whenever Maya and I make a promise to each other, we do our special best-friend handshake. No one knows how to do it except for us.
Just as Maya and I finish doing our handshake, Dad calls us back into the kitchen. The challah dough is ready for us! Now I have something to think about besides Holly and Maya and how the world (and Dad) is totally unfair.
I grin when I see our big, puffy ball of dough. It’s going to taste so good!
I look at it. Maybe there’s something we can do to make it even better. I look around the kitchen and see a jar of peanut butter sitting on the counter. Yes!
I point. “Can we add that to the dough?” I ask Dad.
“Peanut butter and challah? I don’t know about that.”
Dad can be boring sometimes. Actually, he can be boring a lot of the time.
“You always say that peanut butter makes everything better,” I remind him.
“I guess we can give it a try.”
Maya braids the dough. She is really good at braiding, and now the loaf looks so pretty. Once she’s done, I use a spoon to put little bits of peanut butter in between the creases of the braid. When I’m done, I lick the peanut butter off the spoon. Yum!
“Here’s to an experiment,” Dad says.
Sometimes, even Dad is okay with breaking the rules a little.
Copyright © by Sarah Kapit
Illustrations copyright © 2024 by Genevieve Kote.
