When I was younger, the High Holidays had always been an opportunity for me to miss school without the burden of make-up homework and tests. My non-Jewish friends would always thank me for being Jewish because they wouldn’t have homework, either. But as I grew up and learned more about the values of Judaism and the significance of our heritage, I found a deeper meaning in the High Holidays, rather than just a “get-out-of-school pass.”
“Marissa, I need to talk to you for a minute.”
In an instant, my nonchalant attitude from a long day of doing absolutely nothing turned into sheer panic. The sixth floor of 120 Boylston St. was a maze of nooks—perfect hiding places for phone calls you shouldn’t be having right before class.
As if middle school weren’t complicated enough, Caroline Hoffman, best friend to Rachel Miller (they were “separated at birth”) and the sometimes shy girl from an interfaith family, is confused. In the novel The Truth About My Bat Mitzvah by Nora Raleigh Baskin, Caroline’s unsolved mysteries include the meaning of her nana’s necklace, how Jewish is too Jewish and what is a knish, anyway? When Caroline’s family hardly acknowledges religion in general, the perplexed girl does not know where to turn.
