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out of her mother’s bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
    Apparently, her mother had been listening to those anti-internet lectures. As if the lack of internet would magically transform her into a stereotypical Flatbush girl, desperate to get married, working as a therapist, and if she were worthy enough, perhaps she would have the honor of supporting a husband who sat and learned all day.
    She’d choose internet access over a future like that. And right now, in her messy life, when she didn’t know if Benny had responded to any of her messages she left him that morning from Henny’s computer, she needed internet.
    If Benny didn’t get back to her soon, she was just going to assume it was over. She was fine with it, or at least, she would make herself be fine with it. It wasn’t like she thought they were going to get married or something. She just wanted to know already. It was the not knowing that was driving her crazy. How was she supposed to know if he responded to her if she couldn’t check her messages? The fact that there was a computer just a few feet away from her that she couldn’t use, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, was maddening.
    The worst part about all this was that she technically didn’t even have to go to Israel with the rest of her family. She was eighteen. Nobody would have forced her. She could have found some cheap basement apartment, got some fifteen-dollar-an-hour job at some boring office, and gone to college at night like everyone else who lived in New York by themselves did.
    But she didn’t do that.
    Maybe it was because of Rafi, that she didn’t want to leave him alone, or perhaps it was some latent love of Israel soaring up inside of her, but the reality was that there wasn’t much to keep her in New York. Just a few friends, half a boyfriend, and a nasty label that had been attached to her since she was twelve. She had no idea what she would have studied in college if she’d had the chance, and she wasn’t aware of any office skills she might have. Her short stint as a cold-caller had convinced her that if she didn’t like what she was doing, she could not force herself to do it.
    She had picked up and moved to a new country, six thousand miles away from everything she had ever known, under the pretense that she was being forced to do it. Deep inside, though, she was thinking that maybe, just maybe, that old adage of a change of place, a change of luck, could work for her. Here, in this land of six million Jews, there had to be more categories to fit into than the few that dominated North America; religious or not, working or learning.
    Gaby grabbed her yellow sweatshirt and her phone and went outside. Shiloh was quiet and still in the moonlight, the stars shining brightly overhead. She started walking, navigating around bikes and children’s toys left lying in the dirt paths. She scrolled through the playlist on her phone and settled on Bad Meets Evil by Bruno Mars and Eminem.
    When she reached the top of the hill, she was greeted by a view of red-roofed houses below, soft lights emanating from each home, and a clear sky filled with twinkling stars above.
    “…a sky full of lighters,” Gaby sang softly to herself, and that’s exactly what it looked like. She sat down on a smooth rock and played with a few pebbles from the ground. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned around.
    A small group of people were coming up the path, their faces shadowed by the moonlight and the scattered lamp posts.
    When they were a few feet away, one of them noticed her and waved. “ Ahalan ,” a girl called out to her.
    “Hi,” Gaby responded cautiously.
    “Oh, you’re from the new family that just moved here!” The girl moved closer to Gaby. She was wearing long loose black pants and a gray men’s t-shirt with cut-off sleeves and a shredded waistline. Another girl was wearing tight jeans and a low cut white t-shirt. Both had multiple silver necklaces and rings. Two boys behind