It was scary to hear everyone remind her that she was becoming an adult.

‘You’re all grown up now,’ her mother said, looking thoughtful and a little sad.

‘You realise that as an adult you’ll be more responsible for your actions,’ her father added.

It was all so overwhelming. Not that she didn’t look forward to milestones – those special events that were markers in her life, like seasons or birthdays, only better and more important. At the age of sixteen she would be able to drive, at eighteen she could vote. But at the age of twelve, Laura Wyman was about to celebrate her Bat Mitzvah – the coming of age ceremony for Jewish girls.

What does it really mean to come of age? Laura wondered. It was nice to have more freedom with each passing year. She could use the subway more often and go to the mall without having to check in with her mother every hour! But there had to be more to this moment in her life than subways and malls. It was as if everyone expected her Bat Mitzvah to be this magic moment when everything she had done up to that point was just practice for adulthood and everything from then on would be real. Was she going to wake up the day after her celebration and look and feel completely different? Goodbye, Laura the child, and hello, young woman! It was serious stuff, starting with the ceremony.

First, there would be a service in her synagogue. Laura would stand on the podium and read from the Torah, the Hebrew scroll of biblical writings. But after that, it would be party time. Everyone from her class was going to be there, along with her cousins, aunts and uncles, family friends, and those important ‘business’ associates her father always referred to. Laura didn’t really think too much about any of her parents’ friends; they could invite whoever they wanted. She cared about her family, and she cared that her schoolfriends were going to have the best time ever. There was going to be a DJ and lots of giveaways – sports items and other party favours that would be awarded to the best dancers. Laura expected that she would receive some amazing gifts.

All this was happening in less than a month. But first, Laura had to make it through the Hebrew classes that would prepare her for the synagogue service. Along with the other boys and girls who were studying for their Bar and Bat Mitzvahs, Laura had been attending those classes twice a week after school for a full year; there was a lot to learn if you were preparing to become an adult! That’s where Laura was right now, struggling to stay awake and counting the minutes until the class was over and she could finally go home. The rabbi was talking, and Laura put aside her papers and tried to pay attention.

‘I have a very important assignment to tell you about,’ the rabbi began. ‘It means some extra work, but I assure you the work is meaningful. It will add so much to your Bar and Bat Mitzvah experience.’

Laura couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Another assignment? Impossible! She had too much to do already. There was that geography project she still had to finish at school, and another novel to read for a book report. Oh, and she couldn’t forget the science test that was scheduled for two weeks from today. That was just the classroom work. Then there was her volleyball team – the finals were coming up in a few weeks which meant she would be practising three times a week instead of just twice. Plus, Laura had promised her mother that she would babysit her five-year-old sister, Emma, this weekend. Laura had so much already on her plate, let alone having to do extra work here for her Bat Mitzvah class.

The thought of everything she had to do was enough to make Laura groan out loud. A boy sitting in front of her turned to glance curiously in her direction. ‘Hey, are you sick?’ Laura felt her face go hot with embarrassment. His name was Daniel and he was cute – dark eyes and a really nice smile. Normally, Laura would have liked the attention, but at this moment she wished he would look away. She shook her head. Sick? No. Desperate? Yes!

‘We are developing a new project here at our synagogue – a twinning project,’ the rabbi was saying. ‘What that means is that each one of you will begin to learn something about a child your age who perished during the Holocaust. Many of you know that of the six million Jewish people who died or were killed in the Holocaust, one and a half million were children. Many of those children never had the opportunity to celebrate their Bar or Bat Mitzvah as you are doing now. You will have the chance, through our twinning project, to do it on their behalf.’

Laura shifted in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to take some deep breaths. It was one thing to spend the time learning Hebrew for the prayers she would need to recite in the synagogue. The truth was that part wasn’t hard for Laura. She learnt quickly, and she loved deciphering the Hebrew letters and words; it was like trying to decode a secret language. Her parents worried about how she would do with the Hebrew, but Laura knew she’d be fine with that part. But now the rabbi was asking her to add something more to her already hectic schedule.

‘Now then, I’m sure you are all wondering what this will involve, so let me try and explain this to you.’ The rabbi continued, saying that every child in the class would have to research a boy or girl their age who had lived during the time of World War II and the Holocaust, the 1930s and ’40s. They’d have to find out who the child was, learn about their family and where they were during the war, and what happened to them all. He said that these children could be family members, or relatives of someone from the synagogue or the community.

‘There are also those who survived the Holocaust and are still alive today who never had the chance to have a real Bar or Bat Mitzvah when they were young,’ the rabbi continued. ‘You might even think about contacting one of these survivors and seeing if they might be interested in participating with you in the twinning project.’

Each student in Laura’s class would have the opportunity to give a speech about their Holocaust child on the day of their own Bar or Bat Mitzvah – to remember them in some way that was meaningful.

‘It is a privilege to celebrate your coming of age, and it is a blessing to share that day with a child who never had the opportunities that each one of you has,’ the rabbi concluded as he handed out a package of information about the twinning program. ‘This project can enhance your own ceremony and make it even more meaningful. I hope you take it seriously, and I’m here to help if anyone needs more information.’

Laura wanted her Bat Mitzvah to be personal and meaningful, not just a big party, though she certainly intended for that part to be fun. She had spent a long time thinking about what this event really meant to her, and she wanted to do something that showed she was serious about it. That was when the idea of raising money for Africa had come to her. She had read about how important clean drinking water was for people in Africa. Children contracted horrible diseases from dirty water. Women and children spent hours every day walking back and forth from their homes to the few wells where the water was safe to drink. Laura had decided that one way she could do something important would be to raise money that she would send to the African Well Fund. She was excited by the project and spent almost every day after school going door to door collecting money in her neighbourhood and beyond. After two months Laura had raised almost $1000. She sent the money to the African organisation knowing in her heart that she had done something worthwhile. She even received a letter of thanks from some children in Africa, which she had framed and hung on her bedroom wall. That’s what her Bat Mitzvah meant to her. It was about looking forward and seeing how she could contribute to her community, not looking back. You can’t change the stuff that happened in the past, Laura thought. But you can change the future.

Besides, Laura already knew a lot about the Holocaust. She had done a project on it the year before for her grade six class. The project was hard. Every time Laura had to read about someone who had been killed in the war, her stomach lurched and she could barely finish. It was too much to think that there were children who would never experience happy events, or have the things she was lucky to have. Laura had finished the project – barely – and that was enough. In Laura’s mind there wasn’t anything else to learn. How is researching one more child who died going to add anything to my own Bat Mitzvah? she wondered. The war was ancient history as far as Laura was concerned.

Maybe she could have her parents call the rabbi and explain to him that she had already completed an important community project by fundraising for the well and that she had too little time to undertake yet another assignment. But a part of Laura didn’t want this to get to her parents. Deep down she knew they would think it was a wonderful idea. And worse, they might make it even bigger than it was already – insisting that she do extra research, contact more people, write letters to museums. The thought of what her parents might do with this was making Laura panic. No, it was better not to involve them. She had to deal with this alone. And the first step was to try and talk to the rabbi.

The class was ending. Laura shoved her papers quickly into her backpack and approached the rabbi at the front of the room. ‘Excuse me, Rabbi Gardiner?’

The rabbi was gathering his books. He paused, perched himself on the edge of his desk and removed his glasses.

‘I think I’m going to have a problem with this project,’ Laura began. ‘You see, it’s just that I have so much work to do right now, and my Bat Mitzvah is only three weeks away. I’m very busy – too busy to take on anything else.’ She sounded lame – and whiny – even to her own ears. Okay, she thought desperately. This approach isn’t working. I’ve got to try something else. Laura took a deep breath and continued. ‘I made a choice with my parents about what kind of project I was going to do for my Bat Mitzvah.’ That sounds better, she thought. A choice sounded more grown-up. ‘That’s why I raised money for Africa. Besides,’ she added, ‘I don’t know anyone who’s been through the Holocaust – not personally.’

Laura’s parents were born in Canada; her grandparents had been born here as well. There were distant relatives – she didn’t know them – who came from Russia or some other country like that. But that was centuries ago. Well, maybe not quite centuries, but a really long time back. Laura had no personal ties to the Holocaust, just the history that she had learnt about.

‘So you see, while I think it’s very important to remember the Holocaust, I just don’t think this project is for me.’ Her voice trailed off and she stood meekly in front of the rabbi.

Surely he would understand her situation. He was a reasonable man. In fact, Rabbi Gardiner was pretty cool. He was young, younger than her father, and he even played guitar. He didn’t look like those old rabbis she had seen in other synagogues, and nothing like the ones from old photographs with their long flowing white beards and stooped shoulders. Rabbi Gardiner understood young people. He would understand Laura’s situation.

The rabbi was gazing at her attentively, his head tilted to one side. Finally, he replaced his glasses, reached for a piece of paper on his desk, looked at it for a moment, and then looked up at Laura. ‘I understand what you’re saying,’ he said. ‘And I don’t want you to think that I don’t appreciate how busy you are, or how much work you’ve already done. But I want you to do me one favour.’

Laura waited expectantly, and the rabbi continued, ‘There is a woman whom I would like you to contact. Her name and telephone number are on this piece of paper.’

‘Who is she?’ asked Laura as she accepted the paper that the rabbi held out.

‘She’s a very interesting person – an elderly woman who might be able to give you a new perspective on this. I’d like you to go and visit her. Just once,’ he added. ‘If you’re not interested in pursuing this after one visit, then I’ll understand. But promise me, you’ll go once and you’ll listen to what she has to say.’

Laura looked down at the paper she held in her hand, and then back up at the rabbi. She hated mysteries and the rabbi was being particularly mystifying.

‘She’ll be expecting your call. Will you go?’

Laura sighed. No harm in one visit. That much she could handle. She nodded, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and headed out the door.