How to Ruin Series Part 162

"Where's your honor and integrity, Avi?" I throw back the words he said to me back in January when he found out I'd kissed Nathan.

"You said we shouldn't be exclusive.

You said it wasn't realistic to think we wouldn't be attracted to other people."

The thought of him being attracted to Liron is too much for me to deal with. "I was just saying that," I yell at him. "I didn't want you to actually do it."

He lets go of my wrists as if they're on fire and he's about to get burned. "Next time, say what you mean."

"Like you meant it when you said you wanted to marry me one day? It was all lies, Avi."

"You know that's not true."

"Cheating boyfriends become cheating husbands."

"I didn't chea-" Avi runs his hand over his grown-out buzz cut. "Just let me know.

Are we breaking up?"

"That depends. Did you kiss Liron just once?"

"No."

"Twice?"

"No."

"Three times?"

"Amy ... "

"Answer me, Avi. Three times?"

"I didn't count."

"Maybe you should have. What did you think, that you could just fast for Yom Kippur come September, repent it one day, and G.o.d would wipe your sinning slate clean? What, you think G.o.d has only one book? I bet he's got lots of books, Avi, just filled with names of sinners. Because while G.o.d may inscribe you in the Book of Life for another year, he's probably also inscribing you in the Book of Cheaters."

His eyes get darker when he's angry.

They're definitely dark now. "Whatever, Amy. I can't talk to you when you're being irrational. If G.o.d's got a Book of Irrational People, you're at the top of the list." He whips off his backpack and picks up our team shovel from the ground. "Get out," he orders Tori and Nathan, who immediately scramble out of the ditch.

Avi sheds his military vest. We all watch in awe as Avi finishes digging in less than three minutes.

When he's done, we get back in formation and start marching back to base.

After a half hour, he gives us a five-minute break and orders us to drink from our canteens. He does this every half hour.

When we reach the base, he orders us to drink what's left in our canteen.

I'm too angry to drink.

He steps in front of me. I can feel the heat of the midmorning sun, but I can also feel the heat of Avi's gaze on me. "Amy, finish the water."

"Maybe I already did."

"I might be just a sheep farmer to you back at the moshav, but here I outrank you whether you like it or not. Drink it all, or you'll dump whatever's left in the canteen on your head."

A bee decides to hover between us. I hate bees almost as much as spiders.

"There's a bee about to sting us," I say, hoping to make him flinch, or at least get a reaction to remind me he's human.

No such luck.

"Drink or dump," he orders.

I could drink what's left in my canteen, but my ego is fragile and rebellious. I'm holding on to the little control I have left.

"Yes, sir!" I say sarcastically, then salute my now ex-boyfriend.

I slowly lift my canteen over my head.

Avi is watching intently. I'm pretty sure the odds are 80 percent he'll stop me before a drop of liquid lands on my head, 20 percent he'll let me go through with the water-dumping. He has always come to my rescue in the past. This time, though, he's the one I need rescuing from.

When my canteen is directly over my head, I realize there's a 100 percent chance he won't stop me.

Pouring water on myself means that my straightened hair will end up a random, curly mess. I can't do it.

"Do it."

I clench my teeth and lift my chin in defiance. "No."

Avi grabs my canteen, lifts it over my head, and turns it upside down. Water rushes down my scalp, making the hairs on the back of my neck stick straight up. It drips onto my neck and runs down my back. Little rivers run down my face. I must look ridiculous, and it's all Avi's fault.

"You cooled off yet?" Avi asks.

"Not by a long shot."

He shoves the empty canteen in my hand, then eyes the rest of the team. "When you're finished, hold your canteen above your head and turn it upside down."

A few people quickly drink what's left in their canteen, making sure not to leave a drop. I'm the only one with a mid-morning sprinkle.

I'm trying not to pay attention to Avi, but I can't help it. Against my better judgment, I focus on his lips. They're full and soft to the touch-I know because I've felt them with my fingers and my own lips.

Ugh. I cannot believe Liron had her lips against his. I shudder just thinking about it.

When Avi dismisses us to our bittan for cleanup time, I corner Nathan in the courtyard in front of the girls' barracks. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him lightly on the lips. "Please play along while Avi's watching," I whisper in his ear.

"You're the devil," he says. "Stay away from me while your boyfriend's around."

"He's not my boyfriend," I a.s.sure him as I shoo away another hovering bee. "Not anymore, at least."

"Neither am I, so stop telling everyone I am. I'm trying to get into Tori's pants, you know."

"Eww. Why?"

"She's cute, she's a dancer ... I even hear she's double-jointed. I've never been with a double-jointed girl before."

"You're sick, and totally acting like Kyle, the biggest perv in school."

"I'm a guy, Amy. What do you expect?"

Up until a few weeks ago, Nathan was still obsessed with his ex-girlfriend Bicky.

Not Becky ... Bicky. She's a total druggie and has made Nathan's life miserable, which is the main reason he came on the Sababa trip. He has to get over Bicky, but replacing one b.i.t.c.h with another is definitely not the answer.

"Just smile and pretend you love me."

He smiles, puts his arm around my shoulders, and leads me to the barracks. "I do love you, Amy. As a friend. And as a friend I'm going to tell you that I'd like to keep my ball sacs intact and not p.i.s.s off your boyfriend or ex-boyfriend or whatever he is. He's got a gun bigger than my entire arm. And isn't that thing attached to the bottom of it a grenade launcher?

Geez, Amy, even his gun is pimped."

I spill the beans to Nathan softly, as if n.o.body else knows yet. "He's been fooling around with Liron. He's probably dating her for all I know."

"I know. Our entire team got the rundown before he finished our ditch, remember?"

"Don't you feel sorry for me?"

"Amy, didn't you tell me during your conversion cla.s.s that G.o.d gives us challenges to test how strong we are?

Maybe this is your test." Now two bees are hovering around us. Nathan shoos them away. "Were bees one of the ten plagues back in Moses' time?"

"Nope."

"Well, G.o.d is obviously sending them as the eleventh plague. We had a bunch buzzing around our bunks yesterday. It's a miracle we haven't gotten stung."

The talk of plagues and getting stung makes me look for Avi. He's talking to a guy from Sayeret Tzefa, and looks murderous as he stares down Nathan and me. He tries to walk over to us, but the guy he's with pulls him back.

Nathan taps my shoulder. "Talk to him and find out what the deal is, Amy. 'Cause I'm not gonna act like your boyfriend just so you can save face. That's a cop-out, and the Amy Nelson-Barak I know isn't a coward or a cop-out."

"You sound like Rabbi Gla.s.sman," I tell him.

Nathan smiles wide, proud to be put in the same category as my awesome rabbi who sponsored my conversion to Judaism.

He stands tall and proud, as if he's Abraham Lincoln addressing the United States Senate (without the top hat, of course). "Yes, well I'm smart beyond my seventeen years."

"Yeah, right. You just said you wanted to date Tori because she was double- jointed. You sounded like an idiot then.

Don't push that 'smart beyond my seventeen years' c.r.a.p."

"Yo, Nate, we gotta do cleanup!"

Brandon, another guy on the Sababa trip, calls out.

Nathan chucks me under the chin. "I gotta go, Amy. While I probably just signed my death warrant by talking to you for so long, I have to go before Susu starts his inspection."

"Girls' inspection in fifteen minutes!"

Ronit calls out. "Nathan, you better not drag your feet. You should have been at the guys' barracks five minutes ago!"

Nathan jogs off, his sandy blond, bed- head hair bouncing with each step and his shirt sticking to his back from the heat of the Israeli sun.

12.

Bees are G.o.d's little reminder not to get too comfortable in life; something or someone is going to come out and sting you when you least expect it.

I walk into the girls' barracks (which is now a sauna because the stifling air doesn't move in here). I'm surprised my bed is already made, with perfectly tight hospital corners. Even my wool blanket is folded neatly at the foot.

Vic, who just finished making her bunk above me, clues me in. "Jessica did it."

When I turn around, my best friend gives me a big hug. I haven't told her what's up with Avi, but she obviously guessed from the conversation we had back at our ditch.

"So I guess that Avi guy isn't your boyfriend anymore, huh?" Tori says.

"That's so ... sad. Are you okay?"

I'm holding it together by a thin thread, lucky to have Jess beside me for support in the face of Tori's fake concern. I don't believe for a minute that she cares about me and Avi. In fact, I catch a glimmer of triumph in her eyes. I wish a bee was around to sting her in the b.u.t.t. I know that's rude, and Rabbi Gla.s.sman would say that wishing someone harm isn't being a righteous Jew. I can't help it.

Girls my age either love me or hate me, and I have no clue why it's so cut-and- dried. Jess says it's because I come across as confident, and even if I have insecurities I cover them up at all costs. So when the haters see a glimpse into my misery, they're all over it.

"It's not a big deal," I tell Tori as I kneel next to my bed and pull my flat iron out. "You can find someone else to worry about 'cause you're wasting your pity on me."

I plug it in (with the 220 voltage converter attached), thankful for (1) the lone outlet in the room and (2) that my trusty flat iron heats up in thirty seconds.

My hair is already dry from the mid- morning heat. I sit on the floor next to the outlet with my travel mirror and brush in hand, ready to make the curls disappear.

Balancing the mirror between my knees, I clamp the flat iron and get to work on the frizzy, curly pieces.

"I can't believe you're doing your hair when we're supposed to be cleaning," one of the New York girls says.

Looking up, I explain. "I can't have half my hair curly and half straight. That would look stupid."

"So put it up in a ponytail, like I do.