Piece by piece, he drapes

the wool garment, blue- and white-

and black-striped, over my shoulders.

This tallit is for you, Ari,

for when the time comes.

I feel the warmth of the cloth,

the perfect heaviness of the material,

like being watched over.

The rabbi makes sure

I have all the recordings

I need so I can practice.

He folds the tallit,

puts it back on the shelf.

He shakes my hand,

smiles. I will be back.

I ride my bike

as fast as I can

down the steep

San Francisco hills,

the fog and cool air

in my face,

prayers humming

on my lips.

First Day of School

We drive over the bridge.

I feel the magnetic pull of Shoreline Highway

as we pass the turnoff to Stinson,

but instead we go straight, toward school.

Yesterday, we went shopping.

I bought three pairs

of pants and one pair of ripped jeans.

34/32.

I wear the jeans

and a long-sleeved black T-shirt,

tan Converse All Stars,

and a new gray backpack.

On my right,

the bike path stretches

across the morning.

Herons fly

across the estuary.

Soon enough, I think,

I will be back on my bike.

I’m not sure if I’m any tougher

or if I’d do it any differently now.

I don’t know if I will tell

anyone else what happened,

or even if I should.

I think about how much

I wish Pick was here

too, but he’s still in Australia

until Christmas. We email a lot,

work on the game. But it’s not the same.

Mom puts her hand on mine.

Are you sure you want to take the bus home today?

Yes. I smile.

I’m so proud of you, Ari.

She hugs me, and I step

foot by foot out the door and

into a sea of drop-off cars.

It’s foggy but bright,

and everything is twice the speed.

I see Noah first thing.

His long, purple-striped rugby shirt

same as always.

Hey, Noah, I say.

He stops. Looks at me.

Whoa, he says, dude, you’re so tall!

Look at you.

Diana walks around the corner.

Ari! Youlooksogoodohmygodddddd.

Her smile makes me smile.

I can see others looking at me,

and I take it all in.

Then,

all of a sudden,

I see Frank walking up

from the parking lot.

I feel my shirt, loose

on my body, but I

still suck it in.

Habit.

He gets closer,

and I feel

my body tighten

in memory,

adrenaline like a fist.

Maybe I could stand up to him.

I get ready,

fists at my side,

but then he

just walks by me,

and that’s when I see it.

His eyes shift,

looking down and away,

the collar of his polo shirt turned up

trying to cover what looks like

a bad sunburn over his whole face—

acne everywhere.

He stops and looks at me,

looks around at the campus.

He smiles a little,