of paper towels and a bottle of cleaner from under the cabinet and began wiping down the glass counter tops.
“Can you count out the drawer and make up the deposit slip for me? Count the money twice before you fill in the numbers. I’ll drop it at the bank on my way to the parking lot. Then I can go fax this order right now.”
“Sure, Mr. Sobeleski.”
Mary watched as he walked to the back of the shop and pushed through the curtain of hanging beads that separated the small office area from the main part of the store. There was a small microwave back there, and sometimes Mary used it to heat up Ramen noodles or a can of soup for her dinner.
She waited until Mr. Sobeleski disappeared and then opened the cash drawer. He didn’t have a modern cash register like most places. Mary took the money and put it in the drawer—unless people wanted a receipt, and then she had to ring the purchase up. Her father said Mr. Sobeleski was pretty clever, because that meant he didn’t have to pay taxes on a lot of the money he made.
That made Mary feel better somehow—if Mr. Sobeleski was stealing from the government, then surely he couldn’t complain about her lifting a couple of twenties from the drawer.
Because she had decided she was definitely taking the money. If fate had sent her this golden opportunity, who was she to pass it up?
Rivka had always liked her room. Her parents let her choose the color from a bunch of swatches they’d picked up at Home Depot. She’d opted for a periwinkle that was halfway between blue and purple. Then they’d gone to Bed, Bath & Beyond for one of those “bed in a bag” kits. The spread and dust ruffle went beautifully with the color of the walls. Finally, Bubbeh and Zayde had surprised her with a white, fake fur rug that was heavenly on her bare feet.
All of which meant that she didn’t mind spending time in her room—she spent hours in there each night making sure her homework was done to perfection. And hours on the weekends reading books and flipping through magazines.
Rivka’s room had always been her sanctuary.
Until now.
At first, spending time in her room had been her punishment dealt out by her parents—now it was her choice and her way of punishing them for not letting her see Pamela.
Unfortunately she was sick to death of the same four walls day after day after day. After a week, her parents had tried to lure her downstairs to watch Nova with them on television. She was going to stay in her room if it killed her. She’d stay in there until high school graduation if necessary. Then they'd really be sorry.
But then one night the phone rang.
Rivka grabbed it. They asked for Becky, and Rivka’s heart speeded up—it was a boy's voice, and it sounded familiar.
“Becky? This is Lance.”
“Lance.” Her heart stopped beating—she was sure of it. And a liquid sort of paralysis attacked her limbs and turned them to jelly.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” He sounded nervous.
Rivka wet her lips and tried to quietly clear her throat. “Oh.”
“Yeah. And I was wondering if we could see each other. Maybe go to a movie?”
Lance was asking her out! Rivka couldn't believe it. She didn't dare breathe in case she ruined the moment.
"Sure. That would be great." She didn't know how, but she thought she'd managed the right note of casual indifference even though her heart was in over-drive.
"Would tomorrow night be okay? I could pick you up."
"Sure."
Rivka hung up the phone and stood there for a moment savoring the delicious thought that Lance had asked her out! It was beyond her wildest dreams.
Suddenly her mood plummeted like a roller coaster car on the final downhill plunge. Would her parents let her go?
They had to.
But knowing them, they probably wouldn't. Rivka realized that it would be far safer to avoid asking them altogether.
She would have to
“Can you count out the drawer and make up the deposit slip for me? Count the money twice before you fill in the numbers. I’ll drop it at the bank on my way to the parking lot. Then I can go fax this order right now.”
“Sure, Mr. Sobeleski.”
Mary watched as he walked to the back of the shop and pushed through the curtain of hanging beads that separated the small office area from the main part of the store. There was a small microwave back there, and sometimes Mary used it to heat up Ramen noodles or a can of soup for her dinner.
She waited until Mr. Sobeleski disappeared and then opened the cash drawer. He didn’t have a modern cash register like most places. Mary took the money and put it in the drawer—unless people wanted a receipt, and then she had to ring the purchase up. Her father said Mr. Sobeleski was pretty clever, because that meant he didn’t have to pay taxes on a lot of the money he made.
That made Mary feel better somehow—if Mr. Sobeleski was stealing from the government, then surely he couldn’t complain about her lifting a couple of twenties from the drawer.
Because she had decided she was definitely taking the money. If fate had sent her this golden opportunity, who was she to pass it up?
Rivka had always liked her room. Her parents let her choose the color from a bunch of swatches they’d picked up at Home Depot. She’d opted for a periwinkle that was halfway between blue and purple. Then they’d gone to Bed, Bath & Beyond for one of those “bed in a bag” kits. The spread and dust ruffle went beautifully with the color of the walls. Finally, Bubbeh and Zayde had surprised her with a white, fake fur rug that was heavenly on her bare feet.
All of which meant that she didn’t mind spending time in her room—she spent hours in there each night making sure her homework was done to perfection. And hours on the weekends reading books and flipping through magazines.
Rivka’s room had always been her sanctuary.
Until now.
At first, spending time in her room had been her punishment dealt out by her parents—now it was her choice and her way of punishing them for not letting her see Pamela.
Unfortunately she was sick to death of the same four walls day after day after day. After a week, her parents had tried to lure her downstairs to watch Nova with them on television. She was going to stay in her room if it killed her. She’d stay in there until high school graduation if necessary. Then they'd really be sorry.
But then one night the phone rang.
Rivka grabbed it. They asked for Becky, and Rivka’s heart speeded up—it was a boy's voice, and it sounded familiar.
“Becky? This is Lance.”
“Lance.” Her heart stopped beating—she was sure of it. And a liquid sort of paralysis attacked her limbs and turned them to jelly.
“I’ve been thinking about you.” He sounded nervous.
Rivka wet her lips and tried to quietly clear her throat. “Oh.”
“Yeah. And I was wondering if we could see each other. Maybe go to a movie?”
Lance was asking her out! Rivka couldn't believe it. She didn't dare breathe in case she ruined the moment.
"Sure. That would be great." She didn't know how, but she thought she'd managed the right note of casual indifference even though her heart was in over-drive.
"Would tomorrow night be okay? I could pick you up."
"Sure."
Rivka hung up the phone and stood there for a moment savoring the delicious thought that Lance had asked her out! It was beyond her wildest dreams.
Suddenly her mood plummeted like a roller coaster car on the final downhill plunge. Would her parents let her go?
They had to.
But knowing them, they probably wouldn't. Rivka realized that it would be far safer to avoid asking them altogether.
She would have to
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