In sixth grade, the teacher arranged the desks in fours, two on each side, facing toward the opposite students. Izzy sat in the back, across from Kenny O'Brian, a buck-toothed, skinny kid and Keith Saunders, strong and slow. They chewed paper, whispered private jokes, slapped each other's arms, backs, even bellies and farted with their armpits as often as possible. Mrs. Swain heard Izzy's complaints and changed her place to the front, next to Vinnie, a cheerful kid from the Bronx who became her friend.
After Izzy moved her seat, in class and in the hall, Kenny didn't miss an opportunity to raise his arm in salute and mutter as he passed, "Heil Hitler Busy Izzy." Izzy hated him, cast her eyes down or looked away, trying to ignore him. She didn't tell a soul.
In December, each sixth grader left school with a chunk of green wax, a cone-shaped cup, a length of string and Mrs. Swain's tweeting voice, "Bring in your Christmas tree candles on Friday and we'll decorate them in school."
Izzy showed her parents the paraphernalia at dinner. "Please let me make a candle like the other kids. It doesn't mean anything, it's just a candle."
"But it's not just a candle, Izzy," mother said. We have to let them know not everybody is Christian. We're supposed to have separation of church and state." Izzy's longing moved her dad. "OK Izzy, you want it that badly, I'll figure something out." He had an idea, smiled brightly finished his coffee and pranced downstairs to his workbench. Izzy finished her practicing and homework and followed him down.
"Don't come in Izzy. I want to surprise you. Tomorrow." The next night, Abe presented her with a template of a Star of David. He had fashioned strips of lead into six even segments, bent the points carefully, soldered and mounted it on a base.
"What's this?"
"Why Izzy my girl, it's a mold, a candle mold."
"But dad, how will I light it? It's flat."
"No problem. You put little wicks in each of the points and then maybe we'll put one in the middle. Those kids'll be amazed. You'll really show them something." Abe beamed.
"I think the wax will melt really fast, don't you?"
He gave his daughter an impish look, "Who cares? We have electricity."
The next night, dad and Izzy fixed strings to the metal strips with more string. They melted white Shabbos candles, added food coloring until the wax turned pale blue and poured it into the mold. It worked. She had her candle by Friday. The students decorated in class but Izzy preferred hers plain.
The teacher lined the candles in the front and gathered the class to look. There they were, twenty-eight dark green trees, a-mess with glitter, and one flat, blue, Jewish star, whose wicks stood upright like tiny Maccabees, the hero soldiers of Chanukah. Fingers pointed and the class commented, but not about the star. Only her friend Vinnie noticed, turned and whispered, "I like it." Izzy thought the teacher might ask her to describe the process, so much more complex than those cones. But Mrs. Swain said mildly "How nice," and Izzy felt the shroud of being different cover her again.
In the hall later that day, Kenny came towards her with his friend Tommy O'Donald. "Heil Hitler Busy Izzy." They elbowed each other and laughed.
Before she passed, Izzy looked Kenny in the eye, put her front teeth over her lower lip so the "b" would be an "f" and said, "Kenny O'Brian has F*ck Teeth." Tommy guffawed, his hands grabbed his stomach as he doubled over. Kenny turned red and hit his friend where his shoulder had been, now the side of his face. Tommy's fist lashed back and Izzy kept walking. She heard them grappling as she entered the classroom. Kenny averted his eyes when he passed her from then on. Izzy took her candle home and savored it.
© 2008 Hyla Bolsta
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Updated 11/30/2008 (rge)