T he first time Henny sidled over to my desk during recess and asked if she could borrow my Chumash sheets to photocopy because she was absent the day before, I actually felt pretty honored.

“Your handwriting is stunning and I know you always have the answers filled in,” she said, in her sweetest voice.

I felt so flattered inside that the most popular girl in my class was borrowing my notes, that without thinking twice, I took my Chumash sheets out of my loose-leaf and handed them to her.

“Just make sure you give them back today,” I said, “because we’re having a test tomorrow and I need to study.”

“Of course,” Henny said.

She took my sheets, I took a bar of chocolate out of my bag, and I forgot all about Henny and my sheets. (An Encore bar can do that to you.)

But that night when I sat down to study, I discovered that my Chumash sheets were not in my loose-leaf. I tried calling Henny about 15 times, but the phone rang and rang with no answer.

Finally, Penina called me and offered to study with me over the phone, which was nice, but it wasn’t the same as actually having my sheets.

So you better believe that the next morning I got to school early, ready to give Henny a piece of my mind, but when I got to my classroom, she was nowhere to be found. Her knapsack hung on the back of her chair but she was gone. Like she’d disappeared into thin air. She slipped into the classroom together with my teacher and was practically out of the room as soon as the recess bell rang, but I got to her before she reached the door.

“Henny,” I said. My fingers squeezed the chocolate bar in my hand. “Uh…” I said, as the speech I had prepared slipped out of my mind.

Henny smiled and tossed her long, blond hair over her shoulder. “Yeah?” she asked.

“Um,” I said again. “I think you still have my Chumash sheets.”

Henny wrinkled her forehead. “Your Chumash sheets?” she asked as a gaggle of girls began to crowd around her.

“Yeah,” I said and my fingers started twisting the way they usually do when I’m surrounded by the most popular girls in my class. “The ones I gave you yesterday. I don’t think you gave them back.”

My words were swallowed in the shrieks of excitement that followed another classmate’s — Chany’s — announcement that she was getting glasses.

Henny glanced over her shoulder as she dashed to Chany, one of her closest friends.

“Yeah, I think they’re in my knapsack or something,” she said.

And just like that she was gone. (Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 694)