The Time I Kicked My Principal’s Son: Part 3

This is part 3 of a new series by Ayala. For part 1, in which she is first introduced to the loveable Stein, click. For part 2, in which things heat up a little bit, click

“We have to wait for dark,” Suri glanced outside. We were in an ice cream store on Avenue Hangout.  School had ended for the year two days ago. I watched her eyes watching the sunset, admiring how effortlessly perfect her eye makeup was. “If we’re out there before dark, everyone will think we’re pathetic.”

I nodded, fiddling with my spoon, stirring my ice cream into soft ice cream. “Is this really the best way to deal with Rafi? You really can’t just talk about it?” Suri was in one of her numerous vicious fights with her boyfriend. She wanted to cheat on him. I was there to stop her from doing anything she might regret.

“Whatever,” Suri peered at her cup as if it was a fascinating piece of art. “If he wants to be with some skinny girl, I can also upgrade.”  The light outside faded from white to gray. I doubted that any of the guys emerging after dark would be upgrades compared to Rafi.

I tried another tactic. “I don’t know anybody. Maybe tonight we can just start small, talk to just a few people.” The rebel crowd wasn’t really my scene; I was a social floater. Even after an entire year in Bais Yaakov, I was still the weirdo who had come in from public school. I hadn’t exactly found my place yet. I was considered part of three groups of girls, but I didn’t exactly fit with any of them. Suri was my main connection to anything that was going to be happening tonight.

“Ayala, don’t worry so much. I know everybody! You’re my friend; that will be good enough for them!” She glanced outside again and flung her cup into the trash. “Ok, it’s dark enough. Let’s go!”

We went onto a side street so Suri could check her hair in a car window. “You saw how there were two guys hanging out there? We’re waiting here until there are about 10 guys. I will see who I know and we will take it from there.”

About 15 minutes later, Suri decided that there were just enough guys out that we would not look desperate, but there were few enough that we would not be too outnumbered.  “Ooh, Kohn is back from Israel! We should talk to him about your phone issues!”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” I plastered a lukewarm smile on. Anything to stall us from any cheating. Kohn was being mobbed by all of his friends who, like Suri, hadn’t seen him since Israel. We waited in the clump of people. I shifted my weight, feeling awkward.

To my relief, a car drove by, and I knew one of the guys in the car. While I didn’t know him well, he wasn’t horrible. Talking to him would be better than hanging around like a blob. Suri was already having five different conversations with people. Walking three short blocks to where they were parking wouldn’t be a big deal.

It was really crowded on the sidewalk now. I was stuck in another cluster of people on my way to the car, when I felt two hands clutching my butt. It wasn’t a grab-and-run kind of grab either, but the kind where the other person holds on and is savoring the feel of it.

I whirled around, trying unsuccessfully to shake the groper’s hands off, and came face to face with Stein! “You asshole!” I roared.

Stein just grinned his trademark grin at me. “How appropriate.”

I saw red.  Stein knew that he could do whatever he wanted because all he’d have to do was mention that he knew me to my principal and I’d be out of a school with nowhere to go. He was blackmailing me. The situation was so clearly tipped in his favor: he was a guy, the son of a principal, versus me, a weirdo girl who no school would want if she got expelled. The situation was bleak for girls who got expelled. The injustice of the situation was intolerable!

Well, I wasn’t going to take it! This was worth getting expelled over! My heart pounded. I took a deep breath and took a step towards Stein, clenching my fists. His smirk wavered. Then I charged, my deceptively skinny twig legs in their Converse high tops slapping the pavement. Stein’s ever-present smirk vanished. He started to run for his life.

At that point in my life, I ran three miles a day for exercise. Stein clearly didn’t. I caught up to him on the corner as he gasped for air. “I’m going to kill you!” I growled.

Just then, a guy stepped out of the shadows. Stein and I froze. Neither of us knew him. The guy stepped over to Stein, grabbed him by the shirt collar, and nodded placidly at me.

I didn’t hesitate a moment. As my skirt was too tight and short for kicking Stein in the balls, I settled for kicking him in the shins, right on the tibia bone, until he cried.  “By the way, tell Principal Stein that I say “HI!” I spat at him. Stein sobbed and averted his face. The strange guy just held him in place, oddly at ease.

“You psycho!” A dark shape hurtled at my left shoulder. It was Bina. “You beat up my boyfriend!”

Fortunately, Bina was shorter and stouter than me, and in worse shape. Jumping me knocked the wind out of her. I quickly spun around, shaking her off so that we were face to face, grabbing her arms so that she couldn’t punch me and wouldn’t be able to stabilize herself enough to kick me. “Your boyfriend is a psycho who grabs people’s asses because he thinks they will just take it because he’s the principal’s kid!” I bellowed. “Who is the psycho here?”

Bina’s face blanched. She tore herself free and ran away as fast as her little legs could carry her. As I watched her go, I genuinely felt sorry for her, but I had more immediate concerns. “Would you mind holding this cretin for about five more minutes? I really appreciate everything you’ve done, and I just have to find my friend before I go. I don’t want this to escalate.” The stranger nodded.

Safe in the knowledge that this stranger would hold Stein, I finally turned my back on him to scan the crowd for Suri.

 

For Part 4, where you find out what happened after, and get some food for thought, click. 

The Time I Kicked My Principal’s Son: Part 3

The Time I Kicked My Principal’s Son: Part 2

This is part 2 of a new series by Ayala. For part 1, in which she is first introduced to the loveable Stein, click

 

 

On my usual Shabbos excursion to visit friends who were not in my school, I decided to take a shortcut through a playground and save myself an entire half a block. The park was packed. I had to actively focus on picking my way through the hordes of children.

“Hey!” It was Stein, who was sitting on a bench with some girl who was around my age. I groaned. I had clearly chosen the wrong thing to focus on. Breaking my neck tripping over a toddler would have been preferable to talking to Stein.

“Who are you?” The girl glowered up at me. Her dislike surprised me, as I had never met her before in my life.

“I’m Ayala. I met Stein at a bus stop last week. Who are you?”

“I’m Bina,” she paused dramatically, giving me a significant look. I looked at her, bewildered. “His girlfriend!” she said aggressively, putting her arm around his waist.

I burst out laughing. The idea that someone could love a person like Stein, and find him physically attractive, was just too absurd. Bina bristled visibly.

“Relax babe,” Stein droned. His hand flopped to her back. He spat listlessly, and then rested his head on the back of the bench. He looked pale.

As much as I hated Stein, he did not seem well. “Are you ok?” I asked, heartily wishing that he would get stuffed into an ambulance and go to some hospital, preferably one on the moon.

“He’s trying not to smoke on Shabbos!” Bina informed me haughtily.

I raised my eyebrows. Stein’s cell phone was sticking out of his pocket. “Well at least he isn’t dying. Have a fun Shabbos with your boyfriend!” As I scurried off, I felt Bina’s eyes burning holes in my back.

For Part 3, where the actual kicking takes place, click. 

For Part 4, where you find out what happened after, and get some food for thought, click. 

The Time I Kicked My Principal’s Son: Part 2

The Time I Kicked My Principal’s Son: Part 1

Here’s another tale from Ayala. Her previous series described what it’s like to be a non-rebellious outsider in Bais Yaakov. Coming from a public school elementary school, Ayala never really felt at home in her bais yaakov high school. In this story, I suspect that’s also the reason she had the guts and awareness to do the only right thing. I mean the right thing in part 3, but part 1 isn’t bad either. 

The sun beat down. I was waiting for a bus and feeling very ugly. My parents were stalling on getting me contact lenses, I was wearing my Bais Yaakov uniform, my hair was frizzing, I wasn’t wearing makeup, and I was sweating a bit. I was thankful that only a little old lady at the bus stop was seeing me in this decrepit state.

A scrawny boy with a pizza face peered at me from a store window across the street. Even underneath his acne, his face was ugly. His gaze made me feel like squirming uncomfortably, but I restrained myself as a matter of pride. He crossed the street and walked up to the bus stop, peering closely at my uniform. “Hi. You go to That School?”

I disliked him immediately. “No, I go to another school and I wear this to fool people,” I snarled.

He smirked. “What do you think of Stein?”  Rabbi Stein was one of the principals.

“I don’t think anything of him. I avoid authority figures whenever possible. After all, they don’t understand that girls at bus stops might not want to be talking to the boys that bother them there.” The last thing I needed was to be hauled in to explain this situation.

His smirk broadened. He took out a cigarette and lit it. “I’m Stein’s son.”

My jaw dropped. I had heard that Stein had an asshole son, but I had assumed that it was like all other Bais Yaakov rumors — often overblown and, usually, at least partially untrue.

The old lady at the bus stop chose that moment to cut in.  “Do you mind moving over?” she said in a scratchy Russian accent. “ I have a lung condition.”

Stein’s smirk did not waver. He didn’t budge. My dislike turned to blinding rage. I took a step towards him and jutted my face into his so that our noses almost touched. “Move!” I bellowed.  Somehow, his smirk grew even bigger, but he took a few steps away so that the smoke didn’t blow in the old lady’s face.

 

For part 2, in which things heat up a little bit, click

For Part 3, where the actual kicking takes place, click. 

For Part 4, where you find out what happened after, and get some food for thought, click. 

The Time I Kicked My Principal’s Son: Part 1

The Time My Mechaneches Decided I Was a Bad Influence

Sorry for the Pesach break, folks. I really meant to post, but I was somewhere between a matzah-brye coma and an airline terminal pretty much the entire chag. 

But now the holiday is over, and it’s time to talk about the mechaneches.

The mechaneches is the equivalent of the school counselor,  but without the psychology degree. Her job is to talk to students about issues they may have, either at home or in school. I’m sure there must students who get something valuable out of this service. If you have, please let me know. Until then… here’s a story from Viva, whose mechaneches was less than understanding. Or professional.

The high school I attended had a mechanaches that was there for all the entire school. The position was basically that of school counselor but with no education in psychology or social work.

One year they decided that it wasn’t enough that the school mechaneches was available to anyone who wanted to talk;  each student needed a more personal “one on one” mechaneches. They made each grade’s chumash teacher a “private” mechaneches for the grade. She would pull out each girl from her grade over the course of the year for a heart-to-heart.

That year my chumash teacher also happened to be the older sister of my closest friends. Being a normal 15 year old girl, I had zero interest in actually sharing anything personal with a stranger, let alone one who also happened to be my close friend’s sister. So when she pulled me out of class and started asking questions, I gave her non-committal one-word answers. After a while she let me go back to  class and I thought that was the end of it.

A few weeks later I got a call from my friend. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”

She had picked up the landline phone to make a call, and overheard her mother and sister on the phone. Hearing my name mentioned, she decided to listen in.

Her sister (the chumash teacher and mechaneches) was telling her mother that, based on our ten-minute, one-sided conversation, she had deduced that I had a “total lack of interest in Yiddishkeit” and would definitely “be going off the derech.” She was concerned that her younger sister, my friend (the one listening in) would be dragged along with me.

Not only did she jump to this conclusion from our “conversation,” but she decided that it was her responsibility to share what should have been confidential information with her mother to ensure that her own sister’s yiddishkeit was safe.

Ironically enough, it was this  sister who introduced me to some seriously inappropriate reading material as well as non-jewish music. If anyone was the bad influence, it wasn’t me.

Needless to say the school hanhala spent the next few years trying to figure out why I had such major trust issues with them.

Story provided by Viva, who is still frum, as is her friend. 

The Time My Mechaneches Decided I Was a Bad Influence