Modern Girls by Jennifer S. Brown Read Free Book Online

tool, Rose.” Uncle Heshie waved his fork, as if punctuating the air. “We shouldn’t be fighting other nations; we should be banding together to promote the cause of the working class.”
    “The socialist cause is all well and fine, except that fascism is a greater evil than capitalism. Mussolini supports Hitler. I will stand by the socialists right up to the line where Jewish lives are at stake.”
    While I often acted as if the political talk held no interest for me, it was hard to stay silent; politics was in the very air in our house. My parents lived their causes, and I could no more remain ignorant than I could not breathe. While lying on my couch at night, I often picked up the
Forverts
from the table next to me, and it was difficult to keep my opinions to myself. “Jewish lives are definitely at stake. Did you read that over a hundred thousand people attended Julius Streicher’s anti-Jewish rally in Berlin?” This, however, turned out to be a poor move on my part, as it only drew Ma’s attention to my plate.
    “Dottala, you think I don’t see what you’re doing? Stop playing and start eating.”
    To distract Ma from my food, I set down my fork and knife and announced, “I have news.”
    “News?” Ma appeared alarmed. “What news? Who’s sick?”
    Always it was like this. Assuming the worst, assuming something terrible befell family or friends. “No one’s sick, Ma.” Herpessimism irked me. “Not all news is bad news.” Of course, my real news was as bad as it gets, but I was trying not to think of that.
    “
Nu?
You have good news? So share already,” Ma said.
    “I would, Ma, if you’d let me get a word in.”
    “Now, now,”
Tateh
said, ever the calming voice when it came to me and Ma. “What’s your news?”
    At this point, I didn’t even want to tell them, but forced into a corner, I said, “I received a promotion today.”
    “A promotion!” Ma’s face instantly drained of the worry, replaced by a beaming smile. “
Bubelah.
I’m so proud.”
    The tiniest of smiles crossed my face. “I’m now the head bookkeeper of the office. The girls all report to me.”
    “A head bookkeeper? My daughter the head bookkeeper.” Ma fluttered her hands happily before placing them on her cheeks. She shined with delight. “Wait until Lana hears about this. She was just bragging about her daughter’s new sewing job the other day. Not my daughter! No manual labor for her. A head bookkeeper.” Ma had spent long hours hunched over pieces of fabric and took pride in the fact that I was not working with my hands. In school, whenever Izzy or I brought home a less than perfect grade, she’d say, “You will work with your mind, not your hands! Do better.”
    “Didja get a raise?” Alfie asked.
    Leave it to Alfie to bring up the money. That boy was a hustler, fast on his way to life as a goon, if he didn’t watch himself. He was always scrounging for work, looking to make a dollar. He chopped wood in the street to sell for firewood, which would have been fine if he didn’t spend his earnings on cigarettes and crap games. Trying to turn a buck into a five-spot was his only objective.
    I arched my eyebrow at Alfie. “It’s undignified to discuss finances,” I said.
Low-class
was what I was thinking, but I knew that would earn a scolding from Ma.
    “Aw, come on,” Alfie said.
    Izzy looked at me. “Well, didja?”
    With a sigh, I said, “I did.” For just a moment I hesitated. “A big one.”
    “How much?” Alfie asked.
    I waited for someone to correct him, but not only did no one do so, they were all looking at me for an answer. “I’ll be earning”—I paused dramatically, wanting to revel in my new riches—“twenty-three dollars and fifty cents a week.” My mind toyed with the numbers. That was $1,222 a year. Every week, I gave my parents $12 of my paycheck. If I now gave them $15 a week, I’d have $442 a year just for me. Enough to have a nice stash of cash for an apartment with