Uri Full of Light

by Holly Sortland

  On this Friday, Uri and Daniel leaned against the railing next to the library as the bell rang, signaling an end to the lunch period. They watched as a group of students exited the library.

  "Who spends their lunch period in the library?" Daniel asked Uri, expecting him to answer the question as if it were a quiz.

  "Nerds?" answered Uri, annoyed and anxious to get to his next class.

  "Not just any nerds. Debate nerds!" Daniel explained. "But I hear they're fairly good this year. The two in the front made it to the Nationals last year."

  Uri squinted for a better look at the small group getting lost in the crowd. Kids of all types flooded the hallways. For a smaller city, the school was overpopulated with almost 2,000 students.

  "Which two?" Uri asked, as they started walking in the same direction as the debate nerds.

  "The pudgy kid," said Daniel, pointing to a stocky, slightly overweight boy being playfully smacked on the head by a girl with her folder.

  "And her," he pointed to the girl as she laughed and smacked the pudgy kid again, this time on his back. The pudgy kid retaliated by trying to take her pen.

  "That's Hannah Hagen. She used to be kind of ugly but now she's pretty hot."

  Uri realized he had noticed her before; she was one of the only people who smiled at him this first week of school. There was something striking about her.

  "She doesn't look like a nerd," he said.

  "Hannah? Nah, she's sort of a chameleon," Daniel explained. "You know, she can hang out with anyone. The nerds, the popular kids, the jocks. Hannah likes everyone."

  The second bell rang. Uri and Daniel split up as they hurried to class. As they did, a jock wearing a letter jacket passed by them and yelled, "Move it, Jew!"

  "Seriously, dude. Why don't you take that thing off when you're here? Your dad will never know.” Daniel looked at friend’s kippah with annoyance.

  "Nope," said Uri. He seemed unaffected by the slight. "See you later."

  As he opened the door to the math wing, Uri noticed Hannah Hagen a few feet away entering the science wing. She dropped the overfilled yellow folder that she used a few moments earlier as a weapon against her debate partner.

  "Shoot!" she said annoyed, her loose papers littering the floor.

  Just as Uri prepared himself to help her with the mess, the debate partner stepped in.

  "That's what you get for hitting me, Bananas," he said as he handed her a pile of papers.

  "Yes, I know, Justin,” Hannah replied, clearly irritated. “Give me back my pen. We're late!"

  Uri continued to the math wing, leaving the two bickering friends behind him. As he found his seat in his advanced algebra class, he thought about Hannah, the pretty brown-haired girl who seemed to fit in with everyone.

  Chana, he thought to himself, the mother of Shmuel.

  3

  Hannah Hagen and Uri Geller shared a class for the first time in mid-October, just after Yom Kippur. When they passed each other in the halls, Hannah made sure to get Uri's attention.

  "Hi Uri!" she said loudly, sometimes even tapping him on the arm.

  At first, Uri was intimidated. No girl, aside from his mother, or perhaps his Bubbe, touched him before. But as Hannah’s greetings grew more frequent, he responded with a nod or a smile. She became so persistent with her loud hellos, he eventually replied with an equally loud, "Hi Hannah!"

  One day as they passed in the halls, a student loudly shouted, "Hey, nice Jew hat!" in Uri's direction.

  "It's called a kippah, you moron!" someone hollered back.

  Caught up in the crowd, Uri looked behind him to see a beaming Hannah.

  "See, I might be a little Jewish!" she yelled, swept away in a sea of students.

  The last period of the day, Uri sat in his new chemistry class, taught by a woman named Mrs. Murphy, infamously known for the long hairs and large moles on her face.

  Uri took a stool towards the end of the first lab table, noticing that a few stools remained empty behind him. As students flowed into the room to find their seats, Uri winced as Greg Moorhouse approached.

  "Hey, Urine the Jew!" Greg smirked.

  "So what?"

  Uri heard a familiar voice behind him.

  "You're Greg the gentile."

  Turning in his stool, Uri saw Hannah one seat behind him on the opposite row of the table. She flashed a huge smile in his direction.

  Confused by Hannah’s comeback, Greg spoke up loudly and defensively.

  "What'd you say? Did you say something about my genitals?"

  This caught the attention of Mrs. Murphy, who sternly told Greg, "Mr. Moorehouse, this is not the way to start off the beginning of your second time taking this course."

  Greg glared at Hannah, who lifted her eyebrows and gave him a shrug. He took a seat at the next table, giving her the middle finger before putting a piece of gum in his mouth. Hannah flashed the same finger back at him.

  The bell rang. Mrs. Murphy scolded the tardy students, handed out a list of class safety rules and expectations and began a lengthy speech of class instructions.

  Hannah ignored Mrs. Murphy and focused only on Uri. She noticed his defined forearms, the edge of his hairline, the casual fit of his shirt, the way he held his mechanical pencil.

  She wondered if he had siblings, what his parents did, what he ate, if he spoke other languages. She wondered if he slept in his kippah. Her musings were interrupted when she heard Mrs. Murphy mention the words "lab partners."

  "Each of you will be assigned a lab partner for the quarter," she announced. "To make things easier, I've assigned your partners alphabetically based on your last names."

  Hannah's heartbeat increased. Uri nervously tapped his pencil. They listened intently as Mrs. Murphy began announcing partners:

  “Anderson and Ankerman.”

  “Baird and Bennington.”

  Come on, thought Hannah. Get to the G's. She impatiently waited as Mrs. Murphy continued with the C's though the F's.

  Finally, she announced, "Geller and Graham."

  Hannah's heart sank. She had many questions about the mysterious life of Uri Geller. Securing a place as his lab partner would have been the perfect way to grow close to him.

  Uri glanced at Hannah, who tried to hide her disappointment.

  That's when Emily McGuire, the girl who knew everything about everyone in the school, raised her hand to speak.

  "Mrs. Murphy," she announced. "Mitchell Graham broke his femur last week in a trampoline accident and needs surgery. He'll be gone for at least four weeks."

  "I see," said Mrs. Murphy, pausing to look at her list. "I guess that means Geller will pair up with. . .Hagen."

  Uri felt his face flush. Hannah wanted to hug know-it-all Emily McGuire with all her might.

  Uri continued tapping his pencil quietly on the lab table as Mrs. Murphy went on announcing lab partners.

  Finally, after announcing the last set of students, White and Zezenski, Mrs. Murphy instructed the students to rearrange their seats next to their partners.

  Uri looked at Hannah, his cheeks still slightly flushed.

  "I'll move over to you," she said, gathering her binder and backpack.

  As she sat on the stool next to Uri, her pulse raced as she felt an energy between them. Uri sat quietly, assuming that outgoing Hannah would take the lead in the conversation.

  He was right.

  "Ok," said Hannah. "I'll be in charge of collecting supplies if you want to put them away."

  "Sounds good," he replied. The redness in his face began to fade.

  "So, I know about the horns," said Hannah, changing the subject, eager to get Uri talking.

  "The horns?" Uri’s voice cracked when he spoke, causing his cheeks to redden again.

  "Yeah, the horns you told me about at the football game. . . you know, what you said you told Greg?"

  She continued, "I think it's awful that people believe stuff like that. People actually believe Jews grow horns from the
ir heads?"

  "Yeah, some people do. It's been going on for almost 2,000 years."

  There was a brief, uncomfortable pause, which Hannah quickly broke.

  "I really like your kippah. I think it's cool. . .you know, how you wear it to show your respect for God."

  "How do you know about kippahs?" he asked, seeming less nervous.

  "I can read. I did some research on Judaism in our encyclopedias," Hannah replied.

  "Oh, so you've been researching us, have you?" he quipped back with a smile.

  Hannah felt her own cheeks begin to warm.

  "Are you religious?" Uri asked, noticing Hannah’s discomfort.

  "Me? God no!" She paused for a moment, fearing she might have offended him.

  "I mean, I was baptized, but we don't go to church or anything. I went to a couple of Christmas Eve services when I was little, but my dad is sick, so we really don't go out much as a family anymore."

  "What's wrong with your dad?"

  "He has this crazy rare lung disease, so he's on oxygen all the time and it's really hard for him to breathe."

  "That's too bad," said Uri. "I'm sorry."

  "Oh, it's totally ok,” Hannah replied, trying to remain cheerful. “He's on a list for a lung transplant, so there's hope. Plus, he's been sick pretty much my entire life, so I basically don't know what it would be like to have a healthy dad."

  Uri looked into her eyes, noticing how the deep blue pigment contrasted with her dark brown hair, which was cut in a short bob at her chin level. Most of the girls Uri knew growing up had long hair. He found Hannah's style refreshing.

  “So how did you end up here, in South Dakota?” she asked.

  “My father is a doctor,” Uri replied. “There’s a shortage of physicians in the hospital here, so my father applied to fill an open position. He thought he would be good for our family to get away from city life for a while. My mother and I didn’t want to come. But here we are.”

  “What city are you from?” Hannah asked.

  “A suburb just outside of Philly. Bala Cynwyd.”

  “Philly!” Hannah’s blue eyes grew animated. “I have always wanted to go to there. You’re lucky to come from a place where there’s culture. Everything here is so. . .ordinary.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Uri replied. “I’ve met some interesting people.” He gave her a little smile, and Hannah watched his checks redden as they did on the night that she met him.

  “Am I one of those interesting people?” she asked teasingly.

  Before Uri could answer, they were interrupted by a perturbed Mrs. Murphy.

  "You two," she said. The long hairs from her moles appearing more noticeable than usual.

  "Remind me of your names?"

  Hannah spoke up, "It's Hannah and Uri."

  "You mean urine?" Greg Moorehouse uttered loud enough for the class to hear.

  A few students snorted as the class looked at Greg who was sitting towards the far back corner, next to his lab partner, Jenny Morris. Shy, tiny, and wickedly smart, Jenny’s face flushed a bright red as everyone stared in their direction. Hannah couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

  "Greg Moorehouse." Mrs. Murphy spoke loudly to ensure everyone in the class heard.

  "Congratulations, you've just earned yourself your first hour of lunch detention this quarter."

  She quickly turned her attention back to Uri and Hannah.

  "You two are the only ones who haven't picked up your lab supplies. Is there a problem?"

  Hannah was ready to offer a response, but Uri beat her to it.

  "No, Mrs. Murphy," he said. "We just lost track of time."

  "Well you'll have to get them next week; the bell is about to ring. The rest of the class can return their supplies. Make sure you put them under the correct labels!" Mrs. Murphy said, her voice drowned out by anxious students ready to get out of the last period of the day to start their weekend.

  "Sorry," Hannah told Uri. "I talk a lot."

  "It's ok." Uri smiled at her, exposing his dimples along with the slight gap between his front teeth.

  "You're actually kind of fun to talk to."

  "Fun?" Hannah shot back.

  "You know, interesting," Uri explained.

  "You're damn right I'm interesting!"

  Uri was taken aback. He never met a girl who swore before, especially with confidence like Hannah's.

  As they left the crowded classroom, Hannah slowed her pace to walk beside Uri.

  "Hey, if you're not busy tonight, a group of us are going to meet at the coffee shop downtown at seven. We don't do much, just hang out and talk. You should come, especially if you think I'm interesting now, you should see me around my frie—"

  "I can't," Uri abruptly cut her off. "Sorry. Tonight is Shabbat."

  "Shabbat?" Hannah asked curiously. "Is that like your Sabbath?"

  "You have been doing your research," he said, smiling. "That’s good, because if you didn’t know about Shabbat, I'm afraid there would be no hope."

  "No hope for what?" Hannah asked coyly.

  Before Uri could answer, Greg Moorehouse shoved his way in between them.

  "Thanks a lot, Urine!" he angrily shouted in Uri's face. "I've got more detention because of your stupid ass!"

  "Shut up, Greg," Hannah interrupted him. "You're the one who's such a jerk to everyone."

  "Well, Hannah,” Greg responded in his inherently nasty tone. “I wonder if your boyfriend knows that you've taken such an interest in Urine over here. You've become such a bitch since he left!"

  Uri’s face reddened, his pulse raced. The anger he held within himself the past couple of months boiled over. Thoughts moved through his head at lightning speed.

  He was angry at rotten Greg Moorehouse for spewing his hateful words, angry at his parents for moving him to this small city, and angry at all the insults he’d received since he arrived at this terrible school. He was frustrated that Hannah defended him better than he defended himself, and—even though it made no sense—he was resentful of Hannah's boyfriend, whom he learned about only seconds ago.

  Uri felt as if he was in a trance, leaving his body. He saw himself drop his backpack and clench his fist. As if it happened in slow motion, he punched Greg Moorehouse hard in the nose.

  The fog in Uri’s mind lifted, and the reality of what he had done was displayed before him. Greg Moorehouse lay on the floor in front of him, blood spewed from his nose, tears streamed down his cheeks.

  "Damn!" he heard someone exclaim. “The Jewish kid just took down Greg!"

  A crowd began to grow around them. Panicked, Uri grabbed his backpack and bolted for the exit.

  "Uri, wait!" he heard Hannah call after him.

  "Wait up!" she called again.

  Uri ran faster and made his way to the door, not stopping to look back.

  His hand throbbed. He didn't know how to throw a punch. He wondered if he had broken something. As he ran to the parking lot, he darted to his mother’s car.

  As he sat in the passenger seat, she immediately noticed that he was out of breath and holding his hand in pain. "What happened, my ahuv?" she asked, calling him by the term of endearment she’d used since he was a baby.

  Tears swelled in Uri's eyes. He knew if he talked, he would start to cry.

  "Nothing, Imma. Just take me home."

  His mother nodded and put the car into drive, unaware of the bloody mess inside.

  4

  Hannah Hagen visited Uri Geller’s house on the night he broke Greg Moorehouse’s nose. It was mid-evening, near 7:30.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Faith said. She had reluctantly agreed to Hannah’s spontaneous idea of visiting Uri’s home.

  “You are such a stalker,” she told Hannah.

  “I am not a stalker,” replied Hannah, acting insulted.

  “You called that Daniel kid and lied about having Uri’s chemistry notebook so you could get his address. That’s totally something a stalker woul
d do.”

  “No.” Hannah quipped back. "A stalker would sit outside his house and follow him. We’re not doing either of those things.”

  “Um, we are sitting outside his house right now!” Faith pointed out.

  “Yes, but we’re going inside soon, so it’s not stalking,” Hannah replied.

  “I don’t think anyone is home.” Faith looked at the dark house.

  “Well, he did say something about how he had something going on tonight. . . Shavat, or something like that. . .” Hannah tried to remember the exact word Uri used.

  “Is that like the Sabbath or something?” Faith asked.

  “That’s what I thought! Uri was going to tell me more before Greg butted in.”

  “Well, you made such an effort to find out where he lives.” Faith took another glance at the darkened home. “We might as well see if he’s here.”

  “Right,” Hannah replied. “How do I look. Does my breath stink?”

  She exhaled a deep breath of air onto Faith's face.

  Faith winced in annoyance. “No, it’s fine. You look great. Take some gum if you’re worried.” She offered Hannah a piece of Trident before taking one herself.

  Hannah took a deep breath.

  “Ok, let’s do this.”

  They slipped out of Faith’s rusted, blue Ford Tempo, closing the doors quietly, and made their way onto the Geller's front porch. They stood in silence, hesitating what to do next.

  “Should we ring the doorbell, or knock?” whispered Hannah.

  “I don’t know. Just ring the doorbell,” Faith answered.

  “Shh!” Hannah hushed, fearing they would be heard.

  Faith rolled her eyes and took it upon herself to ring the doorbell. They froze in silence, waiting to hear footsteps at the door.

  They waited and heard nothing.

  “Maybe no one’s home,” whispered Hannah, her heart pounding.

  “They could be at that Shavit thing.” She was sure she had once again mispronounced the word.

  “Wait a minute. What’s that thing above the doorbell?” Faith pointed to a golden, rectangular shaped ornament just to the right of the door. “Is that another doorbell?”