The Glow of the Spotlight: My Journey with Rebecca

I push straight into the middle of the boys, sure there’s no time to waste. I’m almost through to the other side when a husky boy with red hair blocks my path. My heart races, and I brace for trouble, but he only looks at me with concern, asking what’s wrong.

I point toward the thief disappearing into an alleyway and cry that he stole my purse. Without another word, the boy takes off after him. I try to keep up, but I fall behind and lose sight of both of them within moments.

Finally, I have to stop. I lean against a building and try to catch my breath, and the truth of what just happened sinks in. I’ve lost Rebecca’s money, my own money, and worst of all, the nesting dolls that are my only real connection to home. I don’t know how I’ll ever get back to my own life now.

But then, through my tears, I spot the redheaded boy striding toward me, my purse in his hand. The moment he passes it back, I take everything out of my purse and let it fall to the ground with shaking fingers. The coin pouch and every bit of money I brought are gone. Still tucked inside are a notepad, a pencil, some tissues, and my extra taps. But the dolls are gone. I sink to the ground, sobbing.

Then the boy holds up something else he found lying in the alley. They’re my wooden nesting dolls, safe and whole. Relief floods through me so fast I can barely speak. I manage to choke out that I’d share what money I had left with him, if only there were any. He brushes off my thanks, sorry only that he couldn’t catch the thief before my money was already gone. When Rebecca and her younger brother, Benny, catch up and he sees I’m safe with them, he jogs back to his own friends.

I can barely look at Rebecca. I’ve lost the money her mother trusted us with, and I tell her how sorry I am. She wraps her arms around me and insists it isn’t my fault. We only lost some change, she reminds me, and at least Benny and I are safe.

We gather my belongings and put them back in my purse, and Rebecca notes that at least I still have my dolls, even if they didn’t bring me much luck today. I hold them tight and try to explain what they really mean to me, how they’re my only connection to my own family. She nods, and Benny slips his hand into mine while Rebecca loops her arm through my other one, and together we head for home.

As soon as we reach the kitchen, Benny can’t wait to tell the family everything. He jumps around, reenacting how the thief bolted and how I pushed straight through a crowd of big boys to chase him down. He brags about the redheaded boy who tracked the purse and won it back.

Victor, Rebecca’s older brother, claims he knows exactly where those boys hang out. They skip school entirely, he remarks, and spend their days loitering on the sidewalk, acting tough. I point out that one of them helped me. Mrs. Rubin says softly that not everyone is lucky enough to go to school, and that things will only get harder for boys like that.

Mrs. Rubin’s words catch me off guard. I’ve never once considered what I’d be doing if I didn’t go to school, or what my future would look like without it. Every time I complained that I’d rather be dancing, I never stopped to look at the bigger picture the way my sister does. Maybe she has the right idea after all. I decide, right there in the kitchen, that I’ll think of school differently from now on.

That evening, Rebecca’s whole family gathers for Friday night dinner. It’s nothing like the hurried meals back home. Earlier today, when I thought I’d lost the dolls for good, I feared I’d lost my only way home, too. But now, with candles flickering across the table, warmth settles over me instead.

When I picture returning to my own life, I know I want to make some changes, and the thought makes me smile. It feels as though the whole world has slowed down just to make room for me.

That night, Rebecca and I get ready for bed. I lay out my purse and shoes for the morning and climb into the bed beside her.

Then I admit that the purse-snatching incident might be one of the scariest things I’ve ever had to face. And I confess that I miss my own family more than I expected to. So I need to go home tomorrow.

Rebecca tells me she can’t blame me. She wouldn’t be able to stay away from her family for long either.

We snuggle under the warm blankets, and Rebecca reaches beneath her pillow for her own wooden doll, the one she calls Beckie, while I reach into my purse for mine. I promise her that even after I’m home, I’ll think of her every time I work through arithmetic, remembering the way she bargained with the street peddler and her trick for multiplying by nine.

Rebecca admits I taught her something, too. Showing me a new way to think about multiplying made her realize she might enjoy being a teacher herself. I pull the covers tighter and murmur that she still has plenty of time to decide. Whether she becomes a teacher or steps into the spotlight as an actress, she’s going to be wonderful either way.