How to Ruin Series Part 179

We look at Nathan. "Don't look at me.

I'm no warrior woman. I'm not eating it."

Tori takes a tester bite from her little can. Miranda and Jess do, too. We all eat the Loof as if it's a rite of pa.s.sage.

"Nathan, don't be a loser. Eat it," Tori says, tossing him a fork.

Not wanting at provoke Tori's wrath, even Nathan chows down. He's a warrior too, after all.

A truck with a pile of sleeping bags in the back is waiting for us. We're instructed to grab one and find a spot on the ground to sleep. Tori, who I haven't had a chance to talk to in a while, comes up to me.

"So how's your grandma?" she asks.

"Alive. I think she's okay, at least for now." I see a bandage on her neck that wasn't there when I left the base two days ago. "What happened?" I ask, pointing to it.

"You promise you won't laugh?"

"I promise."

Tori says, "I got stung. By a worker bee."

I suppress a laugh. "I thought you said they don't sting."

"Obviously I got my facts wrong.

Subject over."

Time to start a new subject. I crane my head, looking for Nathan. Ronit is handing him a small shovel. Gross-he's about to dig himself a hole to p.o.o.p in. He's probably about to p.o.o.p the Loof. I shudder thinking about it. "Listen," I tell Tori.

"Nathan broke up with me."

"It probably had something to do with you staring at that guy Avi all the time,"

she says.

"No. It had something to do with you."

She looks at me like I'm crazy. "Me?"

"Yeah. Nathan likes you. He thinks you're pretty and fun ... when you're not glaring, sneering, or insulting everyone."

Tori places her sleeping bag on the ground next to mine. "Nathan isn't my type," she says.

"Why not? Sure, he's a pain in the a.s.s most of the time. But he's funny. And smart. And cute. And, to be honest, he's the best guy friend a girl could ever ask for.

He's just about perfect."

Tori looks over at Nathan, coming back with the p.o.o.p shovel. "Not interested."

I wave Nathan over to us. He tries to act cool as he says, "Hey. What's up? Mind if I sleep with you guys? I mean, uh, sleep next to you guys."

As he lays down his sleeping bag, head- to-head with Tori's with hope in his eyes, I tell him the truth. "Tori says you're not her type."

Tori nods to Nathan, emphasizing my statement.

"Did you tell her I was good in bed?" he asks.

I. Can't. Believe. He. Said. That.

Tori's eyebrows go up. "You guys had s.e.x ?" she asks me, just as Jessica lays her sleeping bag alongside ours.

Oh, man. I'm the one who's gonna need the p.o.o.p shovel now for the flying bulls.h.i.t about to come out of my mouth. I say a silent prayer for G.o.d to forgive me for lying. "Yeah. Nathan is better than ...

better than ... better than eating a black olive without the pit."

Nathan looks at me as if I'm a total mashed potato. Jess shakes her head in disbelief. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I hate olives in general, so having s.e.x with Nathan has got to be better than eating olives, with or without the pits.

Tori gives him one of her sneers. "I think I'll take a pa.s.s," she says tartly.

"Give me a chance," Nathan responds quickly.

"Why should I?"

Nathan kneels next to her and a sincere look washes over his face. "Because for some reason I've been itching to put a smile on your face since I met you."

"n.o.body can do that."

"Won't you let me try?"

I see Tori's face softening. "You can try, but I guarantee it won't work."

"Ooh, I love a challenge." Nathan slides into his sleeping bag and rests his chin on his fists, facing Tori.

"Are you gonna watch me sleep?" she asks, trying to sound annoyed. I notice she's not sneering, which is a good sign.

"Yeah. Watching you helps me think up lyrics to my next song. After boot camp, I'll take out my guitar and sing it to you."

Tori wipes at her eyes. Obviously n.o.body's ever done anything like that for her. She needs Nathan, whether she believes it or not. And he needs her.

I look around for Miranda. She's usually with us, but we're all settled and she's nowhere to be seen. I finally see her in a deep conversation with someone a few yards away-Noah. He's smiling at her.

And laughing.

I slide into my own sleeping bag (after opening it and checking for snakes and scorpions) and bring George II inside it with me. George is cold on my unshaved legs, the hard metal of the barrel reminding me where we are and why we're here.

Once again I think of Avi, and what military exercises he's been pulled off base to do.

"Are you wearing your bra?" Jess whispers.

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

"The wire was poking into my side, so I took it off and shoved it to the bottom of the sleeping bag. Remind me to reach down and get it in the morning."

My bra isn't at all comfortable to sleep in, but I'm keeping it on. I put a sports bra on before we left, which I'm perfectly aware makes me look like I have a mon.o.b.o.o.b shelf in front of me. But it does the job of smashing my b.o.o.bs down and together so they're not bobbing up and down like a buoy in Lake Michigan when we run. Bouncing b.o.o.bs is not an option.

Of course, squished b.o.o.bs are not the most comfortable way to sleep. But whatever. I'm smelly from not showering, I don't have my favorite pillow, the sweat between my squished b.o.o.bs is itchy, and I've got a metal rifle named George II in the sleeping bag with me. The old Amy would whine and complain. The new and improved Amy sucks it up.

As I lie here sucking it up, trying to sleep but with my eyes wide open, I glance over at Tori. I see her hand sneak out to tentatively touch Nathan's. He weaves his fingers through hers without saying a word and they fall asleep holding hands.

Which only reminds me of last night, when Avi and I fell asleep holding hands.

Argh. I can't sleep. All I can think about as I look up at the twinkling stars above me is Avi.

"I can count every single rock under me," Jess whispers. "How do they expect us to sleep?"

Now that Jess mentions it, I can feel every rock and pebble under my own body. "Maybe if we clear out the big ones it won't be as bad," I say, reaching under my sleeping bag for the big rock sticking into my backside.

Jess whimpers as she shuffles her body around. "Ouch. Remind me never to complain about my life back in Chicago."

"And remind me to appreciate my dad more. He probably had to sleep like this all the time when he was an Israeli commando," I say. "But the stars are so cool. Why don't we see as many stars back home?"

"Probably because we live near civilization," Jess says.

We both stare up into the sky. Seriously, there must be billions of stars above us.

After a minute, a streak shoots through the sky. It's there and gone before I know it, making me wonder if I've even seen it at all.

"Was that what I thought it was?" Jess asks.

"I saw it, too. I've never seen a shooting star before."

"Me, either. Should we make a wish?"

I wish ... (I can't tell you, because then it might not come true. But I bet you can guess.) As we're whispering, I have the sudden urge to pee. "I've got to go to the bathroom. Come with me."

"No way," Jess murmurs. "I'm not risking getting bitten by a night creature.

Wait until morning."

I try to settle back in my sleeping bag.

But since I'm not able to sleep, and I hear people snoring (Nathan is like his own little symphony), I take George II and decide to wander away from camp to find a perfect spot to squat. I need to find a place far enough away that I can take my panties and pants off, so I don't make them grosser than they already are.

Eventually I find a large, flat rock jutting out from the ground. Thankful for the little light the billions of stars offer and for the fact I don't have to dig a hole in order to pee, I situate half of my b.u.t.t on the rock and the other half, well, you get the idea.

As I relieve myself, I hear little pop- pop-pops in the distance. Like gunfire.

We're in Israel, on the grounds where the military does its training operations ... can Avi be just a few hundred yards away? In the past, gunfire would freak me out, but now it's getting to be a familiar sound. I'm getting desensitized to it. Freaky, I know.

I must look ridiculous naked, from the waist down, sitting with half my b.u.t.t on a rock and the other half hanging off-with an M16 strapped to my back while I'm intently listening to gunfire. If Avi could see me now (not that I'd let him see me pee, ever), he'd be proud that I'm roughing it without complaining.

If the Sayeret Tzefa trainees are on some sort of outdoor firing range doing night exercises, maybe I can say a quick goodbye to him. I'm aware it might not be the best idea, but I'm thinking positively.

As I put my pants back on, I take a few steps toward the popping sounds.

When I hear more popping sounds, I hurry closer. Live ammo this close to the army base means training exercises, not war.

I've been walking for over ten minutes, praying that a snake or desert creature doesn't think I'm their midnight snack. I wish I had my headlight with me so I could see better. Despite the stars, the desert has too many scary shadows. I don't know if my eyes are playing tricks on me or if the rocks are really moving snakes and coyotes.

I climb up and over a steep hill. I think the firing range must be close, because the gunfire is getting louder. As I maneuver around a big boulder blocking my path, a large, strong hand clamps over my mouth.

I try to scream as loud as I can, but the hand around my mouth tightens and my attempts at screaming are useless. I'm spun around with the force of a tornado.

27.

Brilliance and stupidity are probably as closely related as love and hate.

As I'm twirled around so fast it makes my head spin, I'm face to face with an Israeli soldier. Even with his black mask and black clothes, I know it's Avi. I can see his eyes shining through the holes in his mask.

I'd know those s.e.xy eyes anywhere.

"Amy?" he whispers.

My panic starts to subside, but my pulse is still racing frantically. "Hi," I say sheepishly. "We were sleeping in the desert somewhere over there." I point in the approximate direction of our campsite.

"And I heard gunfire so I thought you might be over here doing night range shooting. I know I smell because I didn't shower today. And I have sweaty cleave from my mon.o.b.o.o.b. And my underwear is full of rock dust that chafed my b.u.t.tcheeks when I sat on the rock and peed. But I wanted to see you one last time before I went back to Chicago."

"First of all, never go toward the sound of gunfire. Ever. You hear me?" he says sternly.

"I hear you."

"And second-" He doesn't finish his sentence. He does curse a few times, though. Some of the words are in English, and I know some are curses in Hebrew because I've heard my dad say them on rare occasions when he's royally p.i.s.sed.

I watch as Avi pushes a small b.u.t.ton on a headset I didn't realize he was wearing.

He says something in Hebrew. I can't hear the response, because the receiver must be some kind of earpiece in his ear.

"So I guess you're not doing range exercises, huh?"

He shakes his head.

"Running exercises?"