Korê in New York

What happens when a kid refuses to leave the past behind? What happens when the past won't go away? Read on and don't worry about the emotional damage.

1. Ground Zero

   Nervy’s sixth birthday party went off without a hitch. True there were some rude children who defamed the choice of sandwiches and salads, but most children found a sandwich and/or side dish that they liked. A few ate only cake, and that was fine. No one was starving anyway.

   The kids got bored occasionally, but adults and their friends could find ways to keep busy in the park. Since this was a long party, they came insides for seconds. Several kids spilled food on their clothes, and the table cloth took a hit, but one expects that even at all-grownup parties.

   If any one complained and was rude it was the adults. They said the party went on too long, and then they found their favorite sport. “This is ground zero for old school you realize,” a man in a white v-neck sweater told a more than willing audience of less-than-polite parents. The husband may work for ECBAS’ engineering division, but the wife is Dr. Testa, and Sammy Bihar’s ex is Wolf Balls. Yes, a grownup called my mother Wolf Balls. I went into the kitchen to hide, but a group of grownups was congregating there, and you know…they talk way more dirt than we kids.

   “…And that poor child, the youngest one is not going to Houghton next year.”

   “Where’s she going?”

   “Some full academic public school. Doktor Testa made sure  of that!”

   “And what about Ivanna?”

   “Full academic, public middle school. As they say around here: Friends has fallen. If you ask me it has gotten better. We have to realize that child-centered education is the only way kids can really learn. If learning has no meaning what’s the point. We’ve raised generation after generation of soul-dead adults, and now the worst of them want to fight to keep change. Don’t they know, change always wins?”

   “Change just got a six month head start,” I reminded myself, and as Dr. Angelus says: “Over time that advantage will diminish.” “See you next year,” I thought though I knew we wouldn’t be seeing these parents ever again. Most of the Houghton kids whose parents didn’t transfer them before fifth grade and Nervy were heading permanently down two different roads. I don’t know if Nervy knew this yet, and I did not ask her.

   About nine o’clock we got finished cleaning up the party. We’d have leftovers for several days. Dad announced he was leaving early Tuesday morning, and I had rehearsals until eight pm on Monday night. Monday riding back to Manhattan on the subway. I called both the Gross’ and the Meir’s on my Blackberry. I needed to find a time to drop off tickets to Mixed Bag. I was inviting both families, and I also wanted someone to walk Nervy back from services or even have her for lunch. I wouldn’t be able to go to services due to Saturday rehearsals. We even had Sunday rehearsals. The janitorial crew were part of the old guard and even though they were unionized, they opened the school for Los Jovenas Triumphadors. I suspected that some of them would even bring their kids to watch rehearsals. It was hard to think of myself as a role model. I was very glad I was behind the scenes.

   The Meir’s let their answering machine take the call for the third time, but nosey, old Ms. Gross answered.

   “They don’t give you Shabbos off!” she exclaimed when I explained about weekend rehearsals. I told her they positively did not.

   “All that just for a play,” she sighed.

   “It’s not just a play. It’s the best creative output that the Brooklyn Tech Drama Club can put together!” I boasted.

   “You need to get your priorities straight, Ko-ray. La Kadesh Borchu comes first.”

   “I think God understands,” I told Ms. Gross. Besides, I was sure God was a fan of Brooklyn Tech Drama Club, as silly as it sounds.

   “HaShem told us to keep Shabbos,” Ms. Gross would not back down, but in the end I  convinced her to take Nervy for lunch and have an older girl walk her home. I also set up a time to drop off the tickets Saturday evening.

   By Wednesday, I had taken to wearing my “lighting crew” sweater to school. It was just easier since it was suddenly too warm for an in-between coat but not warm enough for short sleeves. Having only one sweater made life easier. The sweater was stained all ready. It did not smell too bad, I thought.

   Eugenia worried about my letting myself go. Libba understood. Chin asked how I could stand myself. I told her, it made me feel better to wear the sweater that now suffered two stains and one tear. Perhaps I was emulating Lisle, though I still thought Piper was cute and sweet and….You get the idea. I’m not sure what having a crush is, but I might have had a longstanding one on Piper. I was glad I’d see plenty of Piper this summer, because we were both working at IS-179 in Queens.

   Thursday night, I found an ugly message on my Blackberry. It came from RoAnn who said she had gotten a call from Houghton that Nervy was in some kind of trouble over writing lies on an assignment. At least I knew this was lot La Kadesh Borchu’s revenge. Nervy was just a kid and it was not fair to make her collateral damage because I was going to weekend rehearsals. More likely there was some rude, sick, adult out there. I thought about the rude adults at Nervy’s six birthday what felt like an eon ago. I wished Dad were back, but he’d be gone until after my fifteenth birthday. I did not think Nervy would lie. I was very angry someone was after her.

   I felt light headed and sick as I emerged from the subway Thursday night. Who ever was after my little sister was going to get it!

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