Chapter 2
The Gift

When their grandparents arrived, there were lots of hugs from Zayde and smushes into Bubbe’s soft, round tummy.

“We’re so glad you’re here!” said Benjamin. “I have a Hanukkah present for you. I painted it myself. I can give it to you now, if you want.”

“What a great idea! Let’s exchange our gifts now.” Devorah walked over to her grandmother.

Zayde patted the couch. “Buzz on over here, my little bumblebee.”

Devorah snuggled next to him. She liked when he called her that, since her name, Devorah, meant “bee” in Hebrew.

“Just this once, how would you like your gift before dinner?”

Benjamin came over. “Really, Zayde? We can open our presents now?”

Bubbe brought in an elegantly wrapped box. “One present to share,” she said.

Devorah’s smile disappeared. The box was too small and too light to be a telescope. And a gift to share with her brother didn’t sound like fun at all. She took the box from Bubbe and held it for a long time.

“Nu, so open it already and find out what’s inside,” said Zayde.

Devorah slid the ribbon off the box, opened it, and took out a large, bubble-wrapped object.

“What is it?” Benjamin asked.

Devorah peeled off the bubble wrap.

Benjamin wrinkled up his face. “What is this?”

“It’s a dreidel,” said Bubbe. “Didn’t you learn to play the dreidel game in your Sunday school?”

“I’ve seen lots of dreidels,” said Devorah. “And none of them have looked anything like this one.” She turned it over in her hands. For one thing, it was large for a dreidel. And it was lopsided, and speckled red and gray with fancy Hebrew letters.

Devorah’s disappointment kept her from thanking her grandparents as she knew she should. “This has got to be the strangest dreidel I have ever seen. I’m sorry, Bubbe, I don’t mean to be rude, and it’s probably an old dreidel and special to you, but it sure is . . . not very pretty.”

“It doesn’t have to be pretty to work,” Zayde told her. “Why don’t you sit on the floor together and give it a spin?”

“You mean, you gave us a dreidel so we can play the game together? Like a family-time thing?” Benjamin laughed. “I have a dreidel that will work much better than this one.” He stood up. “Do you want me to get it?”

Mom shook her head. “Let’s try this one. When your Uncle Robert and I were young, we were just like you, always in a hurry to get to the Hanukkah gifts. But then one night Bubbe insisted we get into the real spirit of Hanukkah. It’s not just about gifts. She took out this very same old dreidel. And as we played, the real meaning of Hanukkah surrounded us and . . .”

“O-oh, I get it,” said Benjamin. “You played with this dreidel when you were our age. Now it’s our turn to carry on that tradition.” He plopped down on the floor. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“But after we play the game, we can open our real presents, right?” Devorah joined her brother on the floor. She turned the dreidel slowly between her fingers, looking at the four Hebrew letters, one on each side. They had just played the game in Sunday school. Each player had put a chocolate coin in the center of the table. When you spun the dreidel, the letter it landed on told you whether you’d won or lost your coins.

“Where are the chocolate coins?” Benjamin licked his lips.

Bubbe’s eyes twinkled. “You won’t need chocolate coins with this dreidel. It’s magic. Spin it and you’ll see what I mean.”

Neither child noticed the grown-ups fade away as Devorah gave the funny-looking driedel a spin. “I barely spun it,” she whispered to her brother, “so it should drop quickly.”

But instead of slowing, the top sped up.

“What’s happening?” Benjamin cried. The dreidel spun faster and faster until the whole room whirled with it. He grabbed onto Devorah and shut his eyes.

And then it stopped, just like that!

Devorah shook her brother’s arm. “Benjamin, look!”

Benjamin opened one eye. The dreidel had fallen on its side. A Hebrew letter glowed on its upper face.

Devorah trembled as she stared at the letter.

A Shin . . . a bad spin. In the dreidel game, it meant you lost something.