The girl stirred in the massive sugar infusion, studying the inside of her cup for a few moments as if coming to a decision. Then she looked up into Leah’s concerned face. “I met a boy, and for the first time, I liked him,” she blurted out. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Leah smiled. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“Do you?” Shaindele whispered, surprised, the smile disarming her. It was so unexpected, so nonjudgmental.

“Of course! It happens to every girl at some point. It’s normal—like waking up one day to find all your beloved dolls have suddenly turned to plastic.”

“It happened to you, too?”

“Shaindele, it’s what all young girls go through. You have a certain point in your life when you figure out that boys exist and that they’re fun to be with and you care about what they think about you and—I don’t know—something will just pull you toward them—the way they look or…” She smiled. “I remember this one boy—I was about your age, maybe a little younger—and I was just fascinated by the way he held a pencil! I know it sounds crazy, but that’s the truth! There was something about his fingers. They were so long and manly and just had this way of twirling the thing around so confidently, or holding it so delicately to the paper, as if he were caressing it.”

Shaindele’s sad face suddenly broke into a smile. “You’re right. It’s meshuga.”

Leah smiled back, sipping her coffee. “So what was there about Duvie?”

Shaindele hesitated. “I don’t know, eppis. Maybe that his hair fell all the time into his eyes and he didn’t even brush it away. He just left it there, as if it didn’t matter.”

“Right. The hair in the eyes, and then he just swings his whole head and the hair moves up a little and falls back again. So sexy.”

Shaindele blushed. That word, in any conjugation or form, was never spoken aloud among the people she knew, and—if you were a good Bais Yaakov girl—you were supposed to pretend it never entered your mind. She quickly changed the subject. “Tateh is so mad on me.”

Leah nodded. “But I think he was worried most of all. The idea of you being on the subway by yourself, walking home in the dark.”

“I was also scared! But no, Leah, Tateh is right to be mad on me. Leah, you don’t understand. You’re not from here. This thing … what I did … it’s a shandah, unforgivable. If anybody finds out, I’ll get thrown out of school, and I will never get a shidduch—except some convert or baal teshuva nobody else wants.” She stopped, biting her lip. “Oy, I didn’t mean—”