The Many Mysteries of the Finkel Family

by Sarah Kapit

  As she lingered outside of the office, Lara did her best to appear as though she had a reason to be there. She dearly hoped that no one would question her. She didn’t have a decent excuse. Or any excuse.

  Now Lara needed to decide how close to the door she dared go. From her current position, she couldn’t hear much of anything. The wooden door was awfully thick. Yet if she tried to creep any closer, she risked exposure.

  As she slowly stepped toward the door, it occurred to Lara that she’d become rather familiar with spying ever since she started FIASCCO.

  But this wasn’t a FIASCCO mission. It was far too depressing for that. Besides, Caroline was on the other side of the door. In a real FIASCCO mission, the sisters ought to be together.

  Lara’s face was just inches away from the door when she heard Ima’s voice. “. . . thankful for your understanding, Principal Jenkins.”

  “Of course,” the principal replied.

  “Lara?”

  She spun around to find Aviva, frowning as she clutched a piece of paper.

  Lara leaped away from the door. She could not allow her parents and Caroline to overhear her and Aviva talking. She wasn’t even supposed to be here!

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Aviva once she felt sure they were out of hearing range.

  “I am dropping off a note from my Ima explaining why I was absent on Rosh Hashanah,” Aviva said. “Why are you here?”

  “Same reason,” Lara said.

  Aviva cleared her throat, but did not otherwise comment on Lara’s obvious lie. It was generous of her, really. Lara felt another pang of guilt as she remembered her harsh words: Why don’t you write it down? In English? Oh, right. You can’t.

  Her cheeks flushed. Now, more than half a day later, it all seemed so absurd. Lara couldn’t even remember why she’d been so angry in the first place. Not really.

  With Aviva there, she couldn’t really continue her spy-on-Caroline-in-the-principal’s-office mission. She didn’t really feel like it, anyway. So she waited as her cousin handed in her note.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Lara asked as they left the office.

  “You may,” Aviva responded, because of course she would.

  “Why are you being nice to me?” she blurted out. “After . . . you know, what I did?”

  Aviva slowed her pace, but only slightly. “Because it’s the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur,” she said after a brief pause. “It’s important to use this time to reflect and start acting, well, better. For the new year.”

  She sounded as though a teacher at Hebrew school had called on her to explain the High Holidays, and yet still managed to seem completely sincere. Lara could not help but wince. Although she was not exactly an expert on the matter herself, she had to think that beginning the new year by being a mean blabbermouth was not exactly a positive sign of things to come. She supposed she just wasn’t as good a person as Aviva.

  “So, if it weren’t for Rosh Hashanah, then you wouldn’t be nice to me?” Lara asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Aviva hesitated before speaking again, and when she did, her voice dropped in volume. “I hope I would still be nice to you. Right now you just seem so . . . sad.”

  Lara ground her teeth together. Caroline’s anger toward her had been awful, but Aviva’s pity just might be worse. Way, way worse. She considered walking away from her cousin right then and there. Of course, that would just add to the Terrible Things Lara Did list, wouldn’t it?

  “I have another question for you,” Lara said in a rush. “Caroline and Benny and Noah . . . do you think they can forgive me?”

  Aviva looked straight ahead. “I am not Caroline or Benny or Noah,” she pointed out. “I can’t really say what they think or feel.”

  It was just the sort of logical response she ought to have expected from Aviva. Lara sighed. She did not ask her cousin any more questions.

  Yet as she went about her morning, the question continued to nag her. After much consideration, Lara only knew one thing for sure. If she were in Caroline’s or Benny’s or Noah’s place, she wouldn’t forgive her.

  * * *

  * * *

  Principal Jenkins peered at Caroline from behind her dark-framed glasses. Not a single muscle in her face twitched. Still, Caroline felt quite safe in her assumption that the usually unflappable principal was, in fact, flapped.

  Ima could sense it too. “I understand that this was a major mistake on Caroline’s part,” she said. “She will, of course, accept any punishment that you think is appropriate.”

  Caroline tapped the “yes” button on her tablet for extra effect. She hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk thanks to Ima’s long explanation of what had happened, but hopefully she managed to seem properly sorry.

  The principal twirled a fancy pen in her hand and looked straight at Caroline. She willed herself not to run screaming from the room, however appealing such a move felt in this particular moment.

  “The other day, when I called you into my office, were you lying to me?” the principal asked.

  Caroline chewed on the insides of her lip with vigor as she tapped the “yes” button once more. Both Ima and Dad winced visibly.

  “I must say that is surprising,” the principal said. “And disappointing, of course. Although I certainly understand wanting to help a friend.”

  Never before had Caroline seen Principal Jenkins so out of sorts. She would have been sorry for her, if she were not so distracted. It felt as though her insides were made of dry clay that might crumble at any moment.

  Ima nudged her, and Caroline quickly tapped another button. This morning, she had programmed her app with several remorseful statements about the fake rat incident. At least she hoped that they seemed remorseful.

  “It was my idea to play the trick on Marissa, not Micah’s. I am very sorry for all of the harm I have caused.”

  Maybe it was silly. But Caroline wanted the principal to understand that it really had been her idea. Not Micah’s. Hers.

  “Yes. However, I cannot help but wonder. Caroline, would you say that Micah participated in the prank?”

  Caroline hesitated. Of course Micah had participated in the rat prank. (And the other one, although Caroline had very carefully avoided discussing it.) Yet she sensed that Principal Jenkins was asking something quite different.

  She squinted at the screen. Right now, all of the words and letters felt inadequate for the task of explaining, well, everything. In fact, Caroline was not sure she could explain any of it.

  Tapping her fingers against the edges of the tablet, Caroline reminded herself to breathe. Then she typed.

  “I did it,” she repeated. “I painted one of our cat’s toys to look like a dead rat. I put it in Marissa’s lunch box during art class.”

  And there it was—a slight twitch on Principal Jenkins’s face. Caroline could not begin to guess its meaning.

  “Well, if that’s your story, then there need to be consequences,” the principal said after a too-long pause. “You will serve detention every day for a week. And, of course, you need to apologize to Marissa. It’s acceptable to give her a written apology, given . . . everything.”

  Caroline tapped the “okay” button, but her thoughts certainly were not okay. One week of detention! It sure felt like a lot. But—and this was an important but—was it enough? Would a normal kid have gotten two weeks of detention? Possibly even a suspension? Caroline didn’t know, and she didn’t dare ask.

  “Thanks for your generosity, Principal,” Ima said. Dad nodded his agreement.

  After Ima nudged her, Caroline began typing once more. “Yes. Thank you. I will not do anything like this again.”

  The principal smiled tightly. “I’m sure the next time you’re in my office, it will be under much better circumstances.”

  As soon as
Caroline left the office, Dad and Ima still glued to her sides, she began flapping her hands at maximum speed, letting out all of the emotions she’d been holding back in front of the principal. She supposed her confession had gone about as well as she could have hoped. But there were still so many uncertainties, especially the not-so-small matter of Micah’s reaction. Had she just lost her only friend?

  Caroline would have liked to talk all about it with Lara. But that was the one thing she absolutely could not do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:

  THE MANY REGRETS OF CAROLINE FINKEL

  Caroline spilled it all out the moment she saw Micah in art class. After she finished her explanation of everything that had happened, she stared at the tablet screen. Looking anywhere in the vicinity of Micah’s face was entirely too much.

  She could only hope he wouldn’t hate her now.

  He didn’t respond right away, and Caroline could feel her heartbeat quicken. Then, he let out a most unexpected sound. A soft chuckle. “Wow, your sister is kind of the worst,” he said.

  After the events of the past day, defending Lara was just about last on Caroline’s list of things she wanted to do. Still . . . this was Lara. Micah shouldn’t be able to talk about her that way. She clutched her tablet tightly.

  “She’s not so bad.” After she hit the “speak” button, Caroline realized that this defense might not be very convincing to Micah. She started typing again. “Well, she’s usually not bad.”

  “You’re such a nice person,” Micah said. “If one of my brothers did this to me, I’d put salt and pepper in their cereal. Worse. I mean, I do that anyway.”

  Caroline squirmed in her seat. She was not a nice person anymore, she knew that perfectly well. Nice people did not put dead rats—or fake dead rats—into other people’s lunch boxes. But she felt too exhausted to argue with her friend, so she did not say anything else. Besides, she figured that Micah would have plenty to say all by himself.

  “Actually, there’s an idea! Maybe our next prank can be on your sister. She’s in seventh grade, right? Maybe we could rig her locker so that rotten fruit falls out when she tries to open it. Or . . .”

  Micah went on for a bit, but Caroline did her best to tune him out. She didn’t want to play a prank on Lara. She didn’t know what she did want, exactly. But it definitely wasn’t that.

  Yet she didn’t have the slightest idea of how to communicate to Micah without losing him altogether. And so, as he talked and planned and talked some more, Caroline said nothing at all.

  Dear Marissa,

  Caroline typed the words, paused, then sighed. Even looking at them felt quite ridiculous. Despite her regret over the rat incident, Caroline certainly didn’t think that Marissa was the least bit dear. But that was the right way to begin a letter, and Caroline knew she had to do this right.

  She rubbed her eyes and continued to type.

  I am sorry

  No, that wasn’t good. She went back and deleted. I am very sorry, she wrote. That felt better. Should she add another very? Or was that overdoing it just a little?

  After five minutes of painfully slow writing, Caroline had only managed two sentences in total. Although Principal Jenkins had not specified how long her apology letter ought to be, she felt pretty safe in assuming that it needed to be considerably longer than that. Yet at her current rate, she’d be done with middle school before managing to complete the letter.

  Caroline leaped up from the computer and paced back and forth, back and forth. Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. The blank screen irritated her, making it difficult to think. Perhaps she ought to write the letter by hand. If nothing else, it would be easier to fill up a page.

  Yes, that was just the thing. She wandered downstairs in search of the perfect piece of paper. This was absolutely not a waste of time, Caroline told herself. Once she had the right paper, everything else would come into place. Then she could finish this ridiculous letter and continue on with her life, thank you very much.

  She examined the different options in the Finkels’ arts and crafts supply cupboard. After much consideration, she settled on a thick beige card stock. Caroline figured that a total snob like Marissa would probably like a letter on fancy paper. To the extent that she could like an apology letter for an incident involving a fake dead rat.

  Caroline settled in the den with her fancy pens. Dear Marissa, she began, adding an extra flourish to the final a.

  I am sorry for placing a fake dead rat in your lunch box. (Just so you know, it was not actually a rat at all. I put red paint on a toy that belonged to my cat, Kugel.) I should not have done this, and I am very sorry that you were upset.

  A decent start, Caroline thought. She chewed on her pen and searched for additional words. There was still two-thirds of the page to fill.

  “Art project?” Ima asked, wandering into the den with a vacuum cleaner in hand.

  Caroline eyed the vacuum cleaner with suspicion. She preferred to be on a different floor whenever Ima decided to vacuum. Since Ima showed no signs of turning it on, it was probably safe to engage in conversation. She grabbed her tablet and began to type.

  “I am working on my apology letter for Marissa,” she explained.

  “Ah.” Ima pursed her lips together. “Well, I’m glad to see you work on that. Best to get it out of the way.”

  Caroline tapped the “yes” button, lacking anything else to say.

  “Is the letter going well?” Ima asked.

  Although Caroline considered simply tapping the “yes” button again, she hesitated. Ima would know it was a lie—she just had a way of knowing such things.

  “Not really,” Caroline said. “It’s hard to say sorry.”

  Ima nodded. “That’s certainly true. Have you considered asking your sister for help? She is good at writing.”

  Caroline typed her response quickly. “I know. But she is not very good at saying sorry.”

  There was no doubt about it—Ima winced. “I know things between you have been difficult lately, but I hope you can put it behind you.”

  Given her complete inability to come up with a nice-sounding response to that, Caroline decided not to say anything at all. She returned to her letter, because trying to be nice to Marissa in writing felt easier than trying to say anything nice about Lara out loud.

  “I understand that she violated your trust.”

  Clearly, Ima wasn’t nearly so willing to just let the subject go. Against her better judgment, Caroline went back to her tablet.

  “It’s not just that,” Caroline said. “She hasn’t even tried to say sorry.”

  “Well, have you given her a chance?” Ima asked.

  Why did Ima have to be so very reasonable all the time? Ever since that night, Caroline hadn’t allowed herself to spend more than a few minutes in Lara’s presence. Whenever her sister tried to speak, Caroline immediately put away her tablet.

  “I haven’t really talked to her much,” Caroline admitted.

  “That might be your first problem right there,” Ima pointed out. Of course she didn’t say “duh” or anything like that, but Caroline felt that was Ima-speak for duh. “You know, my mother used to have these Ladino sayings that she liked to use. It was her way of teaching my sister and me important lessons, I suppose.”

  Ima rarely talked about her mother, who died years before Caroline was even born. Whatever this was, it had to be important.

  “One of her sayings was, ‘Quien quere a’ la rosa, non mire al espino.’”

  Although Caroline guessed that rosa meant “rose,” she otherwise had no idea what any of it meant.

  “It means ‘If you love a rose, you must ignore the thorns,’” Ima explained.

  Frowning, Caroline considered the matter. The idea of Lara being a rose seemed a little much, but okay. Suppose that her sister was, in fact,
a rose. Caroline certainly loved her. But why should she have to ignore the rose’s thorns—all the things about Lara that made her angry and exasperated and everything else?

  “Thanks, Ima,” Caroline typed. “That is very interesting. But I do not think that saying is true.”

  “Why not?” her mother asked.

  Caroline thought about it. Finally, she answered. “When a rose pricks me, I can’t ignore its thorns.”

  Ima rubbed her eyes. “I understand you feel that way now, but you won’t always. You two will get past this.”

  “Maybe,” Caroline said. I hope so, she added silently.

  As Ima left, Caroline returned to her letter. Somehow, she managed to fill up three whole paragraphs describing how very sorry she felt.

  She signed the letter in her prettiest handwriting.

  Hopefully that would be enough.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE:

  THE DAY OF ATONEMENT

  EVENT: Nothing in particular.

  QUESTION FOR FURTHER INVESTIGATION: What’s the right way to say I’m sorry?

  During the next week, Lara made it her mission in life to apologize as frequently and fervently as she possibly could. She apologized in speech. She apologized in writing. She even attempted an apology drawing, although that turned out so hideous that it needed to go straight into the trash. None of it seemed to affect Caroline in the slightest.

  Her luck was a little better with her brothers. Benny, while not exactly happy with her these days, at least responded to her hellos and how-are-yous most of the time. Noah still refused to speak with her, but he’d stopped scowling. Well, mostly. It was something, Lara told herself.

  Dad was Dad. He didn’t say a single word about what Lara had done, and she didn’t dare bring the subject up herself. But a distinct feeling of uncomfortable-ness lingered between them, and so she found herself searching for any excuse to avoid her father. It was rather lonely. But it at least helped fend off the constant feelings of guilt.