After finishing her second drumstick, Lara pulled out her notebook. With so many bad things to record lately, it was nice to report on something happy.
Noah—noisily chewing on sweet potato kugel next to her—peered over her shoulder. “What’s that?” he asked, not bothering to swallow before speaking.
Lara wrinkled her nose at him and set down her notebook with a thunk. “That’s none of your business. But it just so happens to be my detective notebook.”
Her brother smacked his lips together noisily. “You’re still doing that? What are you working on now—a mystery involving cat vomit?”
Clenching her fists, Lara gave Noah her very meanest glare. “As a matter of fact, I have uncovered quite a bit of information. Information that might interest you, in fact.”
His eyebrow quirked. “Oh, really? Well, I’d love to see it, in that case.”
What happened next happened quickly. Far, far too quickly. Noah reached over Lara’s half-empty plate—so rude!—and grabbed the notebook. He started flipping through the pages at a rapid speed.
“Give that back!” Lara protested.
“Noah, give your sister her notebook back,” Ima said, using her Ima-est voice.
Noah looked Lara straight in the eye, shut the notebook, and passed it to her. That’s when Lara knew. She just knew. It was too late.
“Some interesting stuff in there,” Noah remarked. “You’re quite the spy.”
A hot, uncomfortable feeling invaded her body. What, exactly, had he seen? And would he keep his mouth shut about it?
Lara straightened her back and summoned her very best In Charge voice. “I am not a spy,” she said.
Her brother only shrugged. “If you say so.”
For a blissful moment it appeared as though that would be it. That somehow, miraculously, they could all just move on with the Rosh Hashanah dinner. They still hadn’t started dessert, after all.
“You are too a spy!” Benny accused.
Well. So much for moving on.
Lara dropped her fork with a satisfying clang. She crossed her arms across her chest and turned to face Benny. “If that’s what you want to call it, fine. By the way, have you given Ima her brooch back yet?”
For the first time in who knows how long, Benny became quiet. At least for a good ten seconds or so. Then he had plenty of things to say. “Lara, you said you wouldn’t tell! You promised.”
Lara certainly didn’t like to think of herself as the sort of person who broke promises. But in that moment, she didn’t much care. Besides, Benny had accused her of spying first. As far as she was concerned, that meant all promises were off.
Dad cleared his throat. “Uh, guys? I really don’t think we should be doing this right now. Can it wait for another half hour, please? Probably less if we eat fast?”
Lara barely heard him. “Benny took your brooch and used it for his stupid invention!” she told her mother.
Ima rubbed her hand against her forehead. “Is this true?” she asked.
“Yes,” Benny mumbled.
“We will discuss this—later.” Ima placed an unmistakable emphasis on the word later. “For now, we will continue having a nice Rosh Hashanah dinner. As a family.”
Lara privately thought there wasn’t much hope for that, but she reached for her plate again. She picked at her kugel, barely tasting it.
Her family—well, some of them—tried. Aunt Miriam, who had missed some of the argument while tending to the pies—tried to engage Noah in conversation despite his obviously foul mood. “How are your college applications going?”
“Fine,” Noah said. If anything, he looked even more miserable.
That gave Lara an idea. It definitely wasn’t nice. But Noah hadn’t been nice, either. Really, he’d started all of it. If not for him, this would have been a perfectly pleasant holiday dinner.
“Noah isn’t going to college next year,” she said.
“Lara, shut up,” he said in an angry whisper.
At this point Ima’s normally olive complexion had become a definite shade of red. She was, Lara thought, perilously close to spontaneous combustion. Or at least calling for a ban on all conversation for the rest of dinner.
Well, Lara would just have to say her piece now, then.
“Noah wants to go to community college and be a car mechanic. Right?” Lara said.
“What? Noah . . . is this true?”
Ima’s voice was quiet—but deadly. Lara felt a vicious jolt of pleasure. That would teach her brother.
“Yeah, it is,” Noah said. He seemed unable to look anywhere in particular. Lara suddenly felt empty. “That’s what I want. But can we, um, discuss this later? Please?”
Ima did not respond. She did not even look up from her plate.
Just when Lara thought the meal would descend into total silence, Aviva’s thin voice piped up from her other side.
“I think being a car mechanic is an important job,” she offered. “And also . . . Lara is being very rude. In my opinion.”
As if her opinions meant anything! Lara felt the familiar rage return.
“Yes, let’s hear all about your opinions,” Lara said. “Actually, why don’t you write them down? In English? Oh, right. You can’t.”
Some part of Lara knew that she was being horrible. Cruel. The very worst.
She ignored it. None of this was her fault. If her family didn’t want their secrets revealed to everyone, then they shouldn’t have been keeping secrets in the first place.
Right?
“Viva-la, are you struggling with English?” Aunt Miriam asked. “Why didn’t you say something?”
At the same time, Caroline’s computer voice sounded—loudly. She must have turned up the volume on her tablet. “Why do you have to be so horrible?”
The question was clearly directed at Lara. She bristled. For Caroline—of all people!—to scold her for horribleness . . . well, that hardly seemed fair.
“I’m just telling the truth,” Lara said. Her voice was as firm as she could manage, and that was very firm. “It’s not like I did something really horrible. Something like putting a fake dead rat in a girl’s lunch box, for example.”
“Lara, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to stop. This is not
