S habbos and Sunday were blissfully peaceful. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Mrs. Levison was out of my mind. Then came Monday. It wasn’t even like I was in a Monday mood when we walked to school; Dassi was rattling on about some shoe she’d liked in the store but it hadn’t fit. It was Monday, all the same.

Everything was going pretty smoothly until recess, when I received an urgent summons, via my cousin Malki, that Mrs. Levison wanted to speak to me right away. My first thought was to report as ill to Mrs. Gordon immediately, or pretend I was having a delayed concussion. My second thought was that I did not want to be whizzed off to the hospital. My third thought, consequently, was to get it over and done with. So off I trotted.

Mrs. Levison was not in her office. I almost breathed a deep sigh of relief and went to enjoy my granola bar breakfast, when I happened to look out the window by the stairs at the front garden. And I had to hold the banister to steady myself.

Mrs. Levison, wearing some strange white outfit, was standing next to a lady with similar garb. Behind them was a van, bearing the logo: “Honey’s Apiary.” What on earth was going on? I dashed outside.

“Ah, Libby! Or perhaps I should call you Libbbeeee!” chortled Mrs. Levison. I glared at her. “Meet Naomi of Honey’s Apiary. She’s brought us a special treat to enjoy for a few days!”

Naomi smiled indulgently, and my eyes traveled to the two large beehives in front of her, behind a glass cage that looked worryingly fragile.

I was speechless.

“So, I’ll leave you two to chat,” Mrs. Levison continued, “I have some urgent business to look after. Oh, and Libby, you’ll need to be here with the bees until three.” And off she went, without a backward glance. If looks could kill…

A minute later, she returned, looking sheepish.

“Forgot to take this off,” she said, handing the white beekeeper’s suit to Naomi, in a crumpled pile. Naomi passed it to me and I grimaced. Mrs. Levison made her second exit.

Naomi then proceeded to give me a quick rundown about the bees. Apparently, our views on the word “quick” differ slightly. To my horror, she explained that the bees would have to stay in the lot near school for a minimum of two weeks before we returned them. Something to do with hive temperature during transportation and whatnot. I was glad to hear, however, that as the hives were already moved, placed, and caged, there was no need for me to wear the horrendous beekeeper’s uniform. Just thinking of it made me go pink at the ears.

The most important thing, of course, was that no one should touch or move the glass cage, said Naomi. I laughed to myself, thinking that if she realized how unlikely it was that anyone would come within ten feet of this spectacle, she wouldn’t be so concerned. When she’d finally, finally, finished her speech, she said she was off to have lunch, and would be back in a couple of hours to ensure everything was running smoothly. One again, I was involved in something I couldn’t have disliked more. I gritted my teeth and waited for the first bunch of girls to come outside. (Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 660)