Next Year in Israel (8 page)

“Naomi’s missing a lot,” Jordyn said. “She loves to dance and would go crazy at a club.”

“Why did she stay home?” Mia asked, not for the first time.

“It’s no big deal,” Jordyn said.

Mia wouldn’t back down. “It’s weird. One twin goes away, and the other one stays at home.”

“No it isn’t.” Jordyn shrugged despite the fact that her face had flushed. “We don’t have to do the same things.”

“Was she scared or something?” Mia asked. “You know, afraid of getting homesick.”

Funny how Mia felt the need to be bring up being homesick.

“We’re different.” Jordyn’s face had returned to its usual sallow color. “For instance, she spells her name the popular way, and I spell mine the alternate way. You know the
yn
is totally cute.”

That wasn’t an option for me.
Pugly
was already the cute version of
pug ugly
and
dog face
.

“Why’d you come to Israel?” I had to ask. As much as I hated to probe, her explanation didn’t sound right. Maybe she had a hideous past like me?

“Naomi’s too busy with cheerleading,” Jordyn said. “I had to get away from my mother. She’s too strict.”

Her mother had presented a different impression at the airport—talking and laughing like the quintessentially cool mom. She even gave Jordyn a bag of cookies for the plane. “What kind of rules?”

“She wants me to dress like a dweeb, and she makes me go to Naomi’s cheerleading competitions. The competitions are
sooo
boring. I have to sit there and pretend I’m having fun.”

I understood. Mom expected me to go to school with a peachy-keen love-my-school attitude.

“Mother thinks I’m too young to date. I don’t crumble to her demands.”

“They’d probably hate Caleb,” Mia said as we moved up in line, closer to the entrance.

“You should tell them Israeli boys are ugly,” I said.

“Then go make out with Caleb.” Mia finished my thought.

“
Shalom,
” a soldier said. We had moved up to the front of the entrance. “Empty your pockets.”

I put my
shekels
on the table. Would he ask my age? The legal drinking age was eighteen. Mia had told me how to say eighteen and twenty-one in Hebrew because I was still struggling in my language class.

“Purse,” he said.

“I didn’t bring one.” Ugh. I sounded like a foreigner, using English, not even trying to answer in Hebrew.

His gaze focused on the line of people behind me. “Okay.”

I was underage and inside a nightclub! The two long bars on opposite sides of the room swarmed with people waiting for drinks. Drunks crowded on three elevated stages, dancing to a Rihanna song.

“Wait here,” Jordyn ordered. “I’ll get us drinks.”

“What do you usually drink?” Mia asked me.

“Whatever.” I thought of Dad, who said alcohol wrecked his relationship with Mom. I didn’t remember anything about him being a drunk because I was a baby. After he got sober, he dedicated himself to the program. His new friends had such sad stories. Everything bad happened to them—nasty divorces, horrible car accidents, families who hated them.

At the bar, Jordyn was talking to Israelis, who were smiling at her. One drink wouldn’t turn me into an alcoholic. I was in a nightclub, after all, and a little cocktail was to be expected. If I didn’t drink then, it was bound to come up again. The only way to get out of it would be to use another lie, and that would add more stress to the weave of lies I had told.

Jordyn returned with three large plastic cups. “Strawberry daiquiris. Compliments of our admirers.” She waved toward two guys by the DJ stand.

I took a sip. It tasted like a strawberry dessert. There was hardly a bitter aftertaste.

Mia swallowed a mouthful, twice the amount I did. “These are strong,” she said, as if she were a daiquiri connoisseur.

Jordyn lifted her cup. “The bartender made them a double. Here’s to no parents.”

I clicked her cup. “Hear. Hear.” And to upward mobility. I was moving forward, and the differences were big. Pugly didn’t wear tight clothes or sneak out to a nightclub. She wore oversized pajamas and watched TV alone in her bedroom.

Mia tapped my cup. “We’re at a nightclub.”

Jordyn waved to our admirers.

“What about Caleb?” Mia asked.

“Let’s dance,” Jordyn answered.

That was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d rather become roaring drunk and throw up on Jordyn than dance. Me dancing would look like a robot having a seizure, and I wouldn’t embarrass myself like that if I didn’t have to.

“After I finish my drink,” Mia said.

Jordyn pranced over to the stage. Mia waved to the guys who bought us drinks.

I took a bigger sip out of my cup. If only I could loosen up. “I don’t dance.”

“Yes, you do,” Mia said.

“No. I don’t,” I corrected. “Not to this song.” I actually liked the song, but I had to do something to get Mia off her tangent.

“Ask the DJ to play something else,” she suggested.

“All right.” Maybe by the time we made our request, she’d forget about dancing. Better yet, what if we happened to meet my future boyfriend on the way to the DJ booth? He’d be tall, good-looking, and fluent in English, so I wouldn’t embarrass myself by speaking Hebrew. He’d be the one—my first kiss—and he’d come visit me at the
kfar
, causing a major
Who-is-he?
stir among the girls. Even Mia would be impressed. Talk about fate!

At the booth, I peered into the dark Plexiglas and tapped lightly. It looked empty like the guard gate at the
kfar
on those rare instances when it was unmanned. “There’s nobody in there. Too bad.”

“Knock harder,” she said.

“Ground control to Major Tom.” I knocked softly.

A blond guy opened the door. His gold necklace shone in the dim light as he stepped forward. “
Shalom
.”

“
Shalom.
She has a request.” Mia raised her cup at me and took a swig.

Oh brother. She was on a mission. I had to think of a song, fast. What was something that that had a decent beat? “‘The Edge of Glory.’”

“A Lady Gaga fan. Are you one of her little monsters?” the DJ asked, with a Russian accent.

“I’m not little anymore,” I said snobbishly.

He held up two burning cigarettes. “Beautiful girls who like beautiful music.”

“Thanks.” Mia took one and put it in my mouth.

Weird stuff was going down. First of all, non-smoking Mia gave me his cigarette, and second, my future boyfriend didn’t wear a chain necklace. I surveyed the room. I had to find someone to talk to before Mia got back on her must-dance obsession. The guys who bought us drinks were sandwiched around Jordyn. Suddenly, the strobe lights flickered, and I couldn’t see much besides the outline of Mia’s hair cascading down over her ears.

“I’ll play your song under one condition,” the DJ said. “I need a kiss from you.”

“Who?” Mia asked.

“The Gaga fan.” He gave me a cheesy smile.

My body froze. There had to be a way out of it.

“Why don’t we both kiss you?” Mia suggested.

“What?” He smacked his lips.

“Wouldn’t you rather be kissed by the two of us?” I asked.

“Go for it,” he said.

Mia and I scattered to our proper positions, she on the right, me on the left.

Mia giggled. “One, two, three—”

I smacked my lips on his grainy stubble as the strobe lights flashed white.

“Ahh. Soon you will hear your song.” He kissed the air.

I burst out laughing when he shut the door. The room was spinning.

“When the song comes on, you’re dancing up on the stage. No excuses.” She pushed me on the dance floor.

Miraculously, the first beats of ‘The Edge of Glory’ blared from the speakers. I pictured the DJ thumping his head to the music while he watched us. There was no escape. I got up on the stage, took my cigarette out of my mouth, gave it to one of Jordyn’s admirers, and danced while Mia stayed on the floor and smiled.

~ * * * ~

“What time did you get in last night?” Ben asked Mia before history class started the next day. Our teacher hadn’t arrived by the time the bell rang.

She picked up her head from her desk. “Two. Oh, that’s right—we were supposed to come by your dorm. We forgot. Sorry.”

Ben laughed as if she had told a hilarious joke. “We played quarters.”

Mia rubbed the wall with her hand. “Look.” She tossed the white particles on the floor.

He sat down next to her. “Shabby paint.”

Jordyn stood up and placed her fingers on Ben’s neck. “Caleb loves this kind of massage. You’ll never believe it, but Rebecca danced on the stage with me.”

I tapped my leg. The entire world didn’t need to know I had danced on a strobe-lit stage.

“It was totally cool,” Jordyn rubbed her hands up and down his neck.

I looked at the blank blackboard, proudly. Had I misjudged Jordyn? She had dressed me up for a girls’ night out, and she was including me in everything. Even more amazing was that I got through it—dancing included—without a major episode.

Jake switched his seat and sat down next to me. “Did ya?”

I doodled in my notebook, not wanting to answer, even if Jordyn and Mia would have broadcast it.

“Don’t ya love the lazy schedule here?” Jake asked. “Teachers late and all.”

My school at home didn’t allow teachers to mosey into class five minutes late. “It must be an unwritten rule. An Israeli thing.”

He took a pencil out of his backpack. “Will you help me with my English homework? Mia said you’re good at English.”

What else had Mia said? “Yeah. I always get A’s.”

He bent his head closer. “I’ll help you with calculus if you tell me who you want as a boyfriend.”

I was thankful I had a cover. “I don’t need help with calculus.”

Leah walked into our classroom. “All right, class. Your teacher’s ill. I’m subbing today. Get out your history books.”

I moved my face away from Jake’s and reached for my backpack. He kicked my foot. “Better idea. Let’s do homework together and hook up.”

My stomach rumbled. Jake usually stopped flirting after the first brush-off. It had to be a joke—charming guy embarrasses gawky girl. I stared at Leah’s black skirt and beige blouse. “Nah.”

“Jake and Rebecca, stop talking unless you want to share with the class,” Leah said.

Jordyn quickly ripped out a piece of notebook paper.

“Get out your textbook and read chapter eleven.”

Jake kicked my foot again. “C’mon. Let’s do homework together.”

“Jake and Rebecca, stop talking.”

I opened my book and checked Jake’s. He highlighted his book with a blue marker. He sensed my stare, looked up, and mouthed, “Let’s study.”

I looked down. Why did I have to stare at him? What happened at home proved I couldn’t trust anybody. Just like with Jordyn and Mia, I had to be extremely careful around him and not let myself get attached.

Jordyn tapped my shoulder lightly and slipped a note on my desk.

I smiled. She had passed me a note earlier with the words strawberry daiquiri underlined. I lifted the top of the paper slowly as if it were a prized certificate. Jordyn’s loopy handwriting listed three Israeli guys and
slutty Mia’s done them
.

Leah stood up from her desk. “I’ll pass out a worksheet in a moment.”

My hand trembled. After three years of being called Pugly, I’d hoped my nickname would be dropped once middle school began. It was sixth grade, and we were at a new school, but Derrick’s locker was ten away from mine, and he yelled Pugly or barked at me every day. I did my best to pretend I didn’t care, even if it felt like sharp pieces of glass were cutting me on the inside. Lunch had been tricky because Derrick was there, we didn’t have assigned seats anymore, and I was unsure where to sit. With Derrick and his entourage laughing at me, nobody was going out of their way to save me a seat.

But Grace had the same lunch, and we sat together. I was so grateful to have a friend to sit with. It made school somewhat bearable until I started to get anonymous “Pugly’s a slut” notes. I found the notes in my locker, written on notebook paper that had been folded into fat squares, thin rectangles, and my personal favorite, uneven triangles. That stupid nickname! It had turned school into Hell. I had a stack of notes that proved other people hated me. Who was writing them? How many people hated me?

Jake kicked me again. “You spaced out. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I mouthed. I could either hide the note and stay loyal to Mia, or pass it and switch my alliance to Jordyn. Being in Jordyn’s camp was like an extra coat of protection; it would give me short-term immunity. But did I want to backstab Mia? Somebody would give her the note or leave it in a place where she would see it, like the slut notes I found in my locker.

Jake’s hand swooped down and snatched the note. My heart dropped to the floor. How many kids at home had passed those notes about me? I was being the type of person who had let me down.

“Cruel,” he whispered and tore it up.

Chapter 8

GRANDMA INSISTED I CALL HER Israeli friend Tova, once I got settled at the
kfar
. As promised, I called Tova, and I was surprised by her invitation for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. I figured she’d invite me to dinner on a regular day and not necessarily a holiday, but I accepted because she was Grandma’s friend.

The day of my visit, I knocked on her apartment door apprehensively. Who invites a total stranger to their home on a high holiday? Grandma didn’t talk about her much. Once in a while, she’d mention her “friend in Israel” as if she were a distant cousin who we saw at weddings and funerals. For all I knew, she was the type of grandmother who refused to replace her hearing aid battery and discussed politics endlessly.

“
Shalom
.” Tova was Mom’s fortyish age. “Was the bus okay? Come in.”

I smiled politely. “Your directions were great.” She couldn’t pick me up at the
kfar
because she didn’t have a car, and she’d given me directions on how to get to her apartment. The floors creaked as I walked in, and I smelled roast beef cooking. A small kitchen and dining room table were to the left of the short hallway. Directly past the hallway was a living room and balcony.