TEEN STORY

Winter Vacation

We had it all planned out, my sister and I.  It was going to be the best vacation ever. Four days in sunny Florida, with nothing but the palm trees and the hot sun to attract our attention. Four days of pure bliss, not counting the bickering of our two younger sisters who were unfortunately joining us. (Well, that is the nature of a “family trip” isn’t it? But I digress.)

It all started when my sister got a phone call from her best friend.  “Ma!” she screeched. “Leah just told me there are tickets to Florida for fifty dollars! During winter vacation! But you hafta book them quick before they sell out!”

Normally, this sort of pronouncement wouldn’t elicit much of a response from my parents, but this time they were all ears. My grandparents moved to Miami not too long ago, and all they’d been talking about is when they will see us; and we really wanted to see them, too.

So when Miri told us about the great deal she’d heard about from her friend, my parents were all over it. An hour later, we were booked.  By the next morning, Miri and I had our vacation completely planned out, including walks on the beach, sunbathing, and…you get the idea. We’d never been to Florida before, and we were going to make up for lost time, that was for sure.  

I couldn’t wait to tell everyone.

So the very first thing that came out of my mouth when I met my friend Shani on the way to school the next day was, “Guess what?”

But she sort of beat me to it, even as the words were exiting my mouth. “Guess what!” she shouted over me. “There was a crazy sale on flights last night, and we’re going to California for winter vacation! We even found this amazing hotel right near a shul and everything.”

Oh.

Suddenly, my trip didn’t seem so exciting. We were squeezing into an empty apartment right near my grandparents. I probably would not even get my own bed, forget about room service.

When I got to school, our classroom was buzzing. Apparently, everyone had heard about the sale, and everyone’s family had booked tickets all over the place. The talk continued all through the morning, until our teacher walked in.

“What’s all this buzz about?” she asked as she slung her jacket over the back of her chair. She gave us a look and we all quieted down.

“There was a huge flight sale last night and we’re all excited about where we’re going for winter vacation,” Miri offered.

Miss Rubin is the kind of teacher you can say that type of thing to. But she didn’t seem very impressed. She ignored the comment and told us to take out our chumashim.

Five minutes before class ended, she told us to put away our sefarim. That was a first. She usually goes way past the bell.

“Girls, I know you don’t like lectures,” she said, “and I generally don’t give them. But I am surprised at you all. Can you imagine if I walked into the teachers’ room and started going on and on about a fancy car that my parents bought me? That would be tasteless, right? It might even cause another teacher who’s driving around in an old banged up Chevy to feel hurt or a even little jealous. It’s never really okay to announce something like that. Keep that in mind when you come to school all excited about places you’re going or things you’ve gotten. Think first about how you might make other people feel.”

But really, a voice inside me argued, what was the big deal? We weren’t babies. There were always girls who went away for vacation, that’s just the way it was. And especially someone like me, who’d never really gone anywhere exciting, wasn’t I allowed to share my happy plans with my friends?

I glanced around me. Shaindy was studiously examining her fingernail. She hadn’t joined in the morning conversation, instead brushing me off, saying that she hadn’t managed to study for our navi quiz last night and had to finish.

Now I wondered if that was just an excuse.

Then again, I could see that a lot of girls felt the way I did. I could tell by the way they were looking at Miss Rubin blankly, tapping their feet in a show of impatience.

Soon enough, the bell rang, and Miss Rubin exited the classroom. The conversation picked up where it had left off this morning.

I didn’t join this time. Instead, I turned to Shaindy. “Isn’t this annoying, the way everyone keeps talking about vacation? Isn’t there anything else to talk about today?”

“Yeah, whatever,” she answered flippantly. “We’re not so into winter vacation in my family. Right now, I’ll just be thrilled not to be studying. I don’t even care where I’ll be, as long as it’s not in this building.”

Now, I happen to know for a fact that Shaindy’s family went to San Diego last year, and Arizona the year before that, and Miami for at least two years before that. They always go away. But this year, for the first time ever, Shaindy’s wearing last year’s winter coat. Last year’s knapsack. Last year’s loafers. I never paid much attention, because those things are not a big deal. But now I wonder if they have anything in common with her new vacation attitude.

I’m not sure I really want to know, but I’m also sure that if I’m wrong, and Shaindy truly doesn’t care, somewhere in this classroom, there’s got to be another girl who does.

Yes, I know we all have times when it seems like everyone has something we don’t. But I don’t want to be the one making someone else feel like that. Even though it feels so good to talk about something I’m so excited about.

So that’s why I didn’t come back from our perfectly planned trip bursting to share all the details, to talk about how amazing it was to bask in the sun and listen to the sound of the waves . I just walked into my classroom and didn’t say a word.

I’m not going to tell you about it, either.

Because sometimes, it’s best to keep things to yourself. Even good things.