Well, we each have our own destinies, but I like to believe our lives will also be about the choices we make for ourselves. I don’t know that I’ll be like my mother either. We’ve had some rough spots, and maybe I was angry at her. And then she’d be angry with me. And one thing follows another and affects another. I think I’m going to start calling it the “Red Wheelbarrow Effect.” Or maybe the “Chad Gadya Effect.” As I sit on the couch and look at Honey lying quietly on the massage table and staring at the low ceiling, chairs scraping in the kitchen above us, the overhead spotlights warm-toned and glowing on her skin, all I know for sure is I hope that, wherever I am, Honey will always be my friend.

“Maybe our kids will be best friends too,” Honey says, turning to me. Then we both smile and raise our eyebrows at each other.

“I have a confession to make,” she says.

“Okay,” I say.

“Remember that time Miriam got a black eye from Gershi Plotzker’s bar mitzvah?”

“Sure,” I say. “It was Chanukah. We went up to the ladies’ section to throw candy.”

“Yeah,” she says with a pained expression. “Um, so it was me who gave her that black eye. She was standing right by the bima, and I pelted her with a bag of candy. On purpose,” she adds.

I just stare at her in shock. Then I feel the corners of my mouth tugging into laughter. But Honey looks really upset, so I try to tug them straight again and say, as neutrally as possible, “You have very good aim.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean to give her a black eye. But I did mean to hit her.”

“You could apologize?” I suggest.

“Maybe before Yom Kippur,” Honey says. Her face has cleared, like some of the weight on her chest has released by telling me.

“My turn,” I say, getting up and nudging her off the massage table.

This setup in the basement still needs some work, but it has potential.

Just before the end of school, all the girls in our grade do a bat mitzvah presentation. Mostly we just sing songs, but each of us gets a few lines to say too. The school hires Naomi Dayan to prepare us, and she tells me I am a “natural” at public speaking, but I make sure to watch her carefully and take some good tips from her anyway.

On the last day, Honey wins for community service points and gets a prize for math. I don’t win anything, but to my surprise, there is a handwritten note in my report card:

Dear Milla, you were a pleasure to have in my class. When I spoke with Mr. Sandler before I had originally agreed to take his place back in December, he mentioned keeping an eye out for you as a kindred English spirit and he was right. Your comments were always on target and thought-provoking and raised the level of our discussions. Keep reading and keep imagining! Looking forward to next year.