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Book Excerpt from Seven Up

Seven Up By Sara Wiederblank This fantastic Jewish kids book for Jewish boys & girls from favorite author Sara Wiederblank is fast-paced, hilarious & packed with important lessons. A page-turner that every Jewish kid will love! Buy Seven Up at a special online price at www.targum.com

Captain and Conspiracy

Color war is here
Color war is here
If you are lazy you are crazy…
Color war is here
Color war is here
If you are lazy you are crazy…

The girls of 6A heard these lyrics with a mixture of surprise, familiarity, and great excitement.

“I knew it! I just knew it!” exulted Yehudis, who was generally not known for figuring things out in advance.

“You guessed it, huh?” said Yael kindly. “You mean you didn’t believe that tale Mrs. Gerbler told?”

“I believed it at first,” said Yehudis honestly.

“I mean, it’s possible to put your pet skunk in your crockpot instead of your cholent meat, if you’re really busy, I suppose.”

“So what gave it away?” asked Yael.

“When she started saying that she was collecting money for a pet boa constrictor, to replace her skunk, I got suspicious. I mean, I happen to know that Mrs. Gerbler plans to get a porcupine for her next pet.”

The other girls were a bit more blase, having figured things out rather earlier in the game, like from the moment Mrs. Gerbler had come on the school intercom system with an Important Announcement. When it was the Monday before Lag B’Omer, and you were in the sixth grade — which meant that your class got to be color war captains — you were definitely on the lookout for all manner of suspicious announcements.

Shoshana sidled over to Chevy and poked her in the ribs. “So,” she said quietly, “it turns out that there isn’t really a new fund-raising drive for Mrs. Gerbler’s pet snake after all. Are you disappointed that we don’t really get to collect money this time? Yet another fake cause?”

Chevy grimaced at the memory Shoshana’s words evoked. “No, I’m not disappointed,” she countered. A gleam was in her eyes. “I have been waiting for this moment for years now.”

“For color war?” Rivky, Chevy’s best friend, asked her. “Nothing personal, but you’re not really a theme-songy or bannery type of person, are you?”

“Nah,” agreed Chevy. “I like sports better. I didn’t mean that, though. I meant the chance to beat class 6B.”

“6B?” asked Chedva. “Why do you want to beat class 6B?”

“They’ll be the heads of the opposite team, you know,” Yael said.

“I know that,” said Chedva. “But it sounds like Chevy has more on her mind than that. I mean, she never felt this way about color war before.”

Chevy was astounded. “How could anyone not want to beat 6B?” she asked. “Last year, they creamed us in the spelling bee. The year before, they beat us in the berachos bee. The year before that, they won the math facts bee. If we had quilting bees, or corn husking bees, they’d beat us in those too. They beat us on field day in third grade. In second grade, they even won the lottery for the bigger classroom. And in first grade, they were ready for their siddur party two weeks before we were. Every kid in their class had lost at least one tooth before Sarala’s first tooth got a little wiggly. And it only got that way because I by accident whacked it with my history book. They think we’re a bunch of losers. And they’re right. But if we beat them in color war, why, then we can redeem our reputation!”

Class 6A was generally not a competitive group. There were a few unemotional nods at Chevy’s comments. Yes, winning would be nice, but besides for Chevy, no one seemed particularly worked up about it.

“It may really even be possible,” Rivky said to Sarala, “for us to win. I mean, with Chevy as captain — ”

Yael interjected, “Who said Chevy is captain? They didn’t announce captains yet. In fact, I see Morah Minzer at the door, bringing 6B along. I bet they’re going to announce them now.”

Ruchama Ettlinger, the new girl, said, “Of course Chevy is captain. I mean, it’s almost certain, isn’t it? Anyone can tell she has sterling silver-plated leadership ability.”

Ruchama was always coming up with interesting phrases such as “sterling silver-plated leadership ability.” She was a really friendly and warm girl, and her new classmates liked her a lot. They were getting used to her odd phraseology, and even odder stories.

6B zoomed into the classroom looking ready for battle. If not for the fact that plaid pleated skirts and yellow button-down blouses just don’t look threatening, 6A would have felt a little frightened. Yael muttered to Shoshana, “If they were allowed to be carrying rifles, they would be.”

“Shh,” cautioned Shoshana, pointing to a frightened looking Chedva. “It will be what it will be. They’ll win, we’ll make fools of ourselves, and nothing will really change. We’re just not a winning type of class, and we need to face that fact.”

“I guess so,” agreed Yael. She actually didn’t care much one way or the other.

Morah Minzer waited until there was quiet. Then she spoke. It was all the usual bracing words about healthy competition and chances to use your talents, about teamwork and cooperation, and setting examples for the younger kids. No one really paid the speech close attention until things got interesting.

“And now,” Morah Minzer said grandly, “I will be announcing your captains. Ahem. For class 6B, the captain will be…Batya Brody.” Wild cheering erupted from class 6B. Batya, who looked blushing but bold, bowed theatrically and flashed a decidedly nasty smile at class 6A.

The gentle girls of 6A shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Ho hum. Victory was clearly already in 6B’s bag, so why bother…they waited for Morah Minzer to announce Chevy’s name.

But she never did.

“And for class 6A,” she continued in a sprightly fashion, “we have selected Rivky Miller.”

There was a stunned silence.

Rivky broke it. “For what?” she said. “For what have you selected me?” The previous year, she had been selected for curtain puller for the class play. Maybe she was captain of color war cleanup this time.

“For captain,” said Morah Minzer patiently. “You’re 6A’s color war captain.”

“No, thank you,” said Rivky, still sure there was a mistake here somewhere. “You’ve got the wrong person for the job.”

“We mean you, Rivky,” Morah Minzer persisted pleasantly. “It isn’t optional.”

There was another pained silence. Rivky was very upset. She had carved a comfortable niche for herself as Rivky Miller, sidekick. She was close to Chevy, and thus part of the action, but never the initiator. She did a good job making everyone in the class comfortable, and paved a lot of smoothness into class relationships. She was strictly a behind-the-scenes woman, and that was how she liked it. And besides, Chevy was probably chalishing to be captain and doubtless felt very bad.

Chevy, the supposed chalisher, broke the silence. “Hey,” she said, “this is great! My own Rivky! I see I’ve been rubbing off on you! You’re going to be fabulous! You’re going to be the shaliach Hashem who puts that smirking 6B class in their place!”

It was true.

6B was smirking.

“But I don’t want to be captain!” Rivky protested plaintively. “Can’t someone else do it? We all know that Chevy is the best at this type of stuff. Why me?”

“Just as you say,” said Morah Minzer. “We all know about Yocheved’s leadership abilities from long experience. I think I even heard a tale about Chevy organizing a nap-time strike in kindergarten once.”

“It wasn’t naptime, it was cleanup,” Chevy mumbled. “Because I thought it would save lots of time if we just left our toys out for the next day.”

Morah Minzer continued, “We want to develop other leaders. That’s what color war is all about, you know. It’s about training future bnos Yisrael to be leaders.”

And then everyone started talking at once.

“Go for it, Rivky,” said Chevy earnestly. “You’ll be great! You’ll beat those girls!”

“But I never wanted to beat anyone!” insisted Rivky. “Really! I didn’t! Okay, maybe my little brother that time he accidentally left his super-slimeroozer gun in my pillow case, but that was it!”

“Are you sure it was an accident?” Yael asked with her first real curiosity of the day. “As the older sister of four young men, I am familiar with their methods. If I would have been there, he wouldn’t have gotten off.”

Rivky felt torn between pursuing the superslimer- oozer angle or pondering her apparently involuntary appointment as captain.

Shoshana was saying to Ruchama, “That’s the problem. See, the administration believes that color war cultivates leadership. I don’t think it does. I think it encourages unhealthy competition and name calling. I think it should be abolished.”

“What should be abolished, the administration?” questioned Ruchama.

“No, color war,” corrected Shoshana. “What a foolish activity.”

Ruchama nodded. “I never really liked it either. It reminds me of this story I once heard. There was a fish that was caught in the Baltic Sea. But when the farmer who purchased it from the fisherman opened it up, he found a glistening ruby. So he donated it to Tomchei Shabbos instead. And then he won the lottery.”

“Who, the fish?” asked Shoshana confusedly, having lost track of the protagonist.

“No, the farmer,” said Ruchama. “Do you see what I mean?”

“Sort of,” said Shoshana, not wanting to lie. “I could tell that things are a bit…fishy.”

“Exactly!” beamed Ruchama. “So anyway, the question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Tuna salad?” asked Shoshana with puzzlement, having lost the general thread of Ruchama’s remarks.

“No, about color war,” corrected Ruchama.

“I think we should form a coalition and sabotage color war from within.” She said it matter of factly, as if she were suggesting eating their snack on the bench in the corner.

Shoshana frowned. “A coalition? Sabotage? We’re a class, not a third-world country. If we want to resist color war, I think we should take a more up-front approach. We should talk to teachers and Rabbi Geller and explain our point of view.”

Ruchama didn’t agree. “That’s not subtle enough. They know all the stuff you’re going to tell them. I think we have to take dramatic action to make our point.”

It seemed to Shoshana that she’d become part of a revolutionary group without realizing it. But she didn’t mind. It was fun and different. She was all ready to suggest a combination plan when Morah Minzer indicated that she wanted quiet. The girls all swarmed towards their seats and paid attention.

“You’ll want to know, of course, the themes with which you’ll be working,” she said. “I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. We’ve chosen very flexible themes this year, themes that can take you in a whole range of exciting directions. In fact, the themes are not even words — they’re numbers! Each team will be assigned a number that is significant for us as frum Jews. Team 6B will be…the number four!”

6B let out an enthusiastic slew of cheering. Yael murmured, “If they’re this excited before they actually do anything…”

Penina was worried. “What if we get number zero? Or number eleven? I don’t know too many Jewish things with eleven. Or thirty-three. Thirtythree would be a hard one too. And what if they give us a negative number? Or a fraction? I never really got fractions. But nothing would be worse than a decimal. Are there any Jewish decimals?”

Fortunately for Penina, the suspense didn’t last long, and Morah Minzer declared class 6A to be number seven before Penina began worrying about being assigned an exponent or an algebraic variable.

The color war enthusiasts made a tight knot around Rivky as they began eagerly tossing out ideas.

Chedva said, “We could do seven of everything! You know, seven theme songs, seven banners, seven cheers, seven skits…”

Rivky privately wondered how they’d even come up with one decent piece of work for each category. But she realized that as captain it was her job to encourage morale, so she told Chedva that they might consider that idea after they came up with the first one of each item. Penina was so relieved at being assigned number seven that she felt confident to offer some input. “We should do things about Shabbos. I once wrote a really good essay on Shabbos.”

“You wrote an essay on Shabbos?” asked Yael in a tone of shock.

“Yes,” said Penina.

“That’s horrible!” said Yael.

“It was a really good essay,” insisted Penina.

“Just ask Rivky.” Rivky realized the situation and said quickly,

“Yes, I remember, Penina wrote a really good essay about Shabbos. Yeah, Shabbos is a good idea for our presentations, Penina.”

Penina smiled pointedly at Yael, who was murmuring disapprovingly, “One is not permitted to write on Shabbos.”

Yehudis had an idea. “How about the seven days of bri’as ha’olam?”

“I think there were only six of those,” said Chedva.

“Oh…maybe we can do something about the seven days of Chanukah?”

“Uh…aren’t there eight?” asked Chedva. Yehudis retired to her desk, deep in thought. Rivky decided to wrap things up. “All right, we’ve got some really nice ideas out here on the table. Let’s have a meeting at my house tonight at seven — about seven. We’ll have snacks… uh…Shifra, do you think…”

“Sure, sure,” said Shifra enthusiastically. “I’ll be in charge of refreshments. But now we have to go to lunch. I can’t multi-task, especially not on an empty stomach.”

6A didn’t have to be asked twice. They stormed down the stairs. No one but Chevy noticed that 6B didn’t seem at all concerned about lunch. They were grouped tightly around the commanding figure of Batya Brody, and some of them were taking notes. They were a very businesslike bunch.

“Well, who cares?” Chevy told herself firmly. When one wasn’t in position to boss others, bossing yourself had to stand in for second. “We’re much cuter.” And with that comforting thought, she turned to rejoin her classmates.

Buy Seven Up at an online discount at www.targum.com