This Is Just a Test by Madelyn Rosenberg

Author:Madelyn Rosenberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2017-09-16T04:00:00+00:00

When I got home from school on Friday, Safta had already put Lauren to work, peeling potatoes for latkes. Even though Lauren and I go to the same school, we never walk together and we never arrive at school or home at the same time. I guess it was Lauren’s bad luck that she got home first. She looked up long enough to give me a dirty look over the mound of potato peels.

“Did you have a good day at school, David?” asked Safta.

“It was adequate,” I told her.

“Well, have a snack and then practice your haftorah,” said Safta.

“Whoa, wait a minute,” said Lauren. “When I get home, it’s Lauren put your backpack down and help with the potatoes, and with David, it’s have a snack?!”

“You can have a snack, too. Have a bite of the potato,” said Safta.

“Raw?”

“So have an apple. I’m sorry, princess of my heart, but your brother has to practice.”

I actually had no plans to practice my haftorah, but I played along. “I really should get to work.” I threw in a sigh for good measure.

Lauren glared at me and then at Safta. She was wearing a yellow smiley face button, but it was the only part of her that seemed happy. “This is so unfair! I bet he’s not even going to practice.” She put on her headphones and turned on her music, even though Mom has told her that it’s rude to listen to music on her Walkman in front of other people.

“Go on and practice, David,” said Safta. “We’ll take care of this.”

Lauren turned away from us to scrape the potato peels into the trash. She had started singing along to the music, telling someone to call her, repeatedly. She sounded just like Deborah Harry, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

After all that, I felt like I had to practice, so I did. I also read a couple of chapters of So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish, but no one needed to know that. When I went back downstairs, Lauren wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, but Safta was. Bao Bao was trailing after her, half barking, half whining.

“Go away, Boo Boo,” Safta said. “I need to fry the latkes.” There was a frying pan on the stove, glistening with oil.

“His name is Bao Bao,” I reminded her.

Safta tried again. “Bo Bo.” This time she made the long o sound.

I tried again. “Ow, like when a dog barks. Bowwow. Bao Bao.”

“That is not how this animal barks,” Safta said. She leaned over and looked Bao Bao directly in the eyes. He sat and wagged his tail. “Go away, dog,” she said. “I’m cooking here.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Wai Po walked into the kitchen and looked into the pan. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“I’m doing what wrong?” said Safta.

“Cooking.”

I thought Safta’s head might actually pop off her neck. “Do you mean cooking latkes? Is that what you’re talking about?”

“If that is what you’re making, then yes.”

Safta turned and stared at Wai Po.

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