Just Shy of Ordinary by A. J. Sass

Author:A. J. Sass [SASS, A. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2024-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE WEATHER CHANGED OVERNIGHT between Friday and Saturday. Cold replaced summer’s last thread of humidity. A few minutes after Mom picked me up, it also started drizzling.

I barely noticed. I was too busy going over everything Rabbi Levine had said to me. During this morning’s service, she had also invited everyone to meet at the Wisconsin River to perform the Tashlich ceremony, where you cast away unwanted experiences and the bad things you’ve done over the past year by throwing breadcrumbs, greens, or pebbles into the water. It sounded beautiful.

It had also given me an idea.

“Did you have a good time?” Mom asked.

“Yeah. Everyone was really nice, plus I learned a lot.”

“And you’re getting the information you need for your project?”

“Yep, I think so.”

I still wasn’t quite sure what my essays should be about, but I had most of today and all of tomorrow to figure it out.

“Great.” Mom smiled. “I’m proud of how hard you’re working, Shai. Public school is a big adjustment, and you’ve made such a smooth transition.”

I smiled.

The closer we got to home, the more my idea blossomed. I imagined standing at Helen Evans’s dock, casting every bad experience of the last year away—my arm picking, Mom telling me she’d lost her job, and so on—into the lake, one by one.

“Do you want to do Tashlich with me when we get home?” I asked.

“Pardon?”

“For Rosh Hashanah,” I said. “Rabbi Levine was talking about it this weekend. It’s where you—”

“I know what Tashlich is, Shai.”

“Oh, right. Duh.” It was easy to forget that Mom had grown up Jewish. She knew all this stuff and more already, but it still felt new and exciting to me. “So, you know it helps you reset. Then you get to make good changes for the new year.”

“I’m aware. But, Shai… you’re not Jewish.”

“But I thought if you had a Jewish mom, you were automatically Jewish.”

“Technically, that’s true, yes.…” Mom backtracked fast, but I didn’t have time to think about it before she spoke again. “Did someone at your grandparents’ temple tell you this?”

Her words were quiet, but they settled like rocks in my stomach.

“No, I looked it up online. So, since I’m technically Jewish, I should be able to do Tashlich just like every other—”

The expression on Mom’s face stopped me. It was frustration, maybe anger, and something else that was harder to place, all blended together.

Mom didn’t say anything at first. The only sounds were the plink-plink-plinks of the rain and the swisha-swishes of the windshield wipers.

My throat felt thick. Mom and I never fought. Sometimes we debated, especially when Mom was still homeschooling me. We disagreed about what to have for dinner or how many books I could carry home from the library (and read before their due dates). But nothing major.

We weren’t technically fighting now, either, but still. This conversation felt different.

Several mile markers passed. Mom sighed. A long, heavy breath.

“There are as many opinions about who is or isn’t a Jew as there are Jewish people,”

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