“—and in second, with a most unusual and yet entertaining—and surprisingly perceptive—speech, we have Milla Bloom with ‘How Are You Peeling?’ ”

What?

Did Rabbi Adler just call my name?

I hear a sound come out of my mother’s mouth that sounds a lot like a whoop. I exchange a look of shock with her.

Oh my goodness!

Second place?!

Everyone is cheering. I float like a balloon to Rabbi Adler, receive a plaque, smile for cameras flashing, and drift back to my seat. Oh my goodness.

Ms. Silver rushes onto the stage from the wings and hugs me. “This is the first time a sixth grader has placed so high!” she whispers.

I sit in shock, a warm light glowing from my stomach, the air around me like a soft cushion.

When it’s all over and Kayla Levy, the eighth-grade girl with the hair band, has accepted her award for first place, I follow the rest of the contestants down the hidden stairs into the cacophony of the auditorium.

“Here’s our star!” my dad says, greeting me with a bouquet of flowers. My mom hugs me, and Max jumps up and down and asks if he can hold my plaque.

My mom takes a step back and, holding my shoulders, says, “You should be so proud of yourself.” Then she gathers me in her arms again, crushing the flowers.

“You were right about the isms,” I shout over the noise in the auditorium.

“I’d rather I wasn’t,” she says.

“You’re not mad I did you wearing your gloves?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “What can I say? You got me exactly right.”

I laugh too and then I stop. “Mom, you knew they were going to ask that extra part about why we thought our speeches deserved to win.” It’s a statement, not a question.

She looks guilty. “I obviously couldn’t tell you. But I did tell you to think about it.”

“I thought you didn’t think my speech was serious enough to win.”

“Things are funny when there is truth in them, Milla—people laugh when they can recognize themselves. If you’d have asked me, I would have suggested you say that your speech deserved to win because it reveals universal emotional truths that teach people something about themselves.”

Huh? My speech did that? Well, now that she mentions it, maybe it did. I think of my mother peeling all those oranges for Max with her latex gloves on. I wonder if she knows Max could probably peel an orange by himself now.

When I get on the bus home, Honey has saved me a seat.

“You totally should have won,” she says, offering me a piece of gum.

I smile at her loyalty. “It wasn’t as serious as the others,” I say, shaking my head to both the gum and what she’s saying.

“So what?” she says, putting the pack in her pocket. “Yours was the only one people were even listening to.”