How to Ruin Series Part 73

"He doesn't believe you're dating whoever this guy Nathan is."

"Is he kidding? Nathan and I are ... " I pick up the other uneaten chicken leg and hold it next to my half-eaten one. "Nathan and I are like this. Two chicken legs in a pod."

"Chickens don't come in a pod. Peas do."

"I don't see any peas around here, so I'm improvising. Work with me, Noah."

This round-faced American-Israeli soldier would be a perfect match for Miranda.

They're kind of the same person, but of the opposite s.e.x.

Noah shrugs. "So you don't want me to relay his message?"

I shake my head.

He sighs. "Well, I hope you guys work it out at some point. Seeing Gefen upset isn't fun, especially during Krav Maga training."

I know a little Krav Maga-the official self defense of the Israeli military- because my dad was a commando when he was in the IDF. A few months ago he decided I was old enough to learn some of the contact combat basics. Essentially, it's to kick the person's a.s.s (or groin, as my dad taught me) until your target is no longer a threat. If you can't get out of a bad situation, you strike hard, strike fast, and know the vulnerable places on your opponent's body.

My dad thought I would suck at it, but I actually did so well that after my first lesson he bought protective training pads.

We've made training a weekly event. Krav Maga Night is my dad giving me new techniques on how to kick his a.s.s, which I have to say is more therapeutic than a fifty- minute session with a social worker.

Seriously, what other teenager is lucky enough to say they're encouraged by their dad to punch, kick, and maim him every Wednesday? Although, given that my dad was a commando, he's specially trained to kick some a.s.s himself.

Now that I live with my dad, we've worked out most of our issues around him not being a permanent fixture in my life growing up. But he's still uncomfortable having a teen daughter when it comes to parental discussions about dating, s.e.x, and drugs. The drug discussions (I'm using the word "discussion" loosely) go like this: My dad: Amy, if you ever take illegal drugs I'll kill the person who gave them to you and then I'll kill you. Got it?

Me: Loud and clear.

The most recent s.e.x talk (this time I'm using the word "talk" loosely) went along these lines: My dad: Don't have s.e.x until you're married.

Me: What if I do?

My dad: I'll practice Krav Maga on the guy. Without protective padding.

I didn't mention then that my boyfriend is quickly becoming a Krav Maga legend in his own right on the base.

My dad is awful when it comes to talking about girly issues, as if he doesn't have a single ounce of estrogen in his body. But get him to talk about Krav Maga, or Israeli guy stuff like soccer or basketball, and his eyes light up.

"Thanks for the food!" I call out to Noah as he walks away, leaving me with my chicken bones, my folding chair, and thoughts of Avi-but not his message.

His answer is a wave and another smile.

Just when I finish lunch, I hear Ronit's small-ya'mean-small chant getting closer and closer.

"Amy, bring your tray to the eating area," Ronit says. "Miranda, go with her.

Vic, you're in charge of guarding the bittan now."

I pick up the tray and start walking to the kitchen. Miranda walks with me ...

although she's actually a few paces behind.

I have the feeling she's doing that on purpose.

"You okay?" I ask, glancing back at her.

She shrugs. "Sure."

"Because you're acting like something's wrong. Want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

Could it be that the Israeli army has broken Miranda's sweet-tempered spirit?

I'm always crabby, but I thought I could count on Miranda to smile no matter what sucky situation she's in. I glance back again. The girl is definitely not smiling.

Maybe she's constipated. Seriously, talk to a group of teen girls in private and I guarantee they've all got p.o.o.ping issues.

Considering the lack of a decent toilet in this place, I wouldn't blame her.

But what if Miranda isn't constipated?

What if she's upset with me? While I couldn't care less if Tori hates me, I do care if somehow I've caused this alienation between me and Miranda.

I wish Jess was ordered to accompany me, too. She'd know what to say to Miranda to make everything okay again.

As we walk into the cafeteria and I sc.r.a.pe the leftover food off my plate and into the big garbage bins, I realize Miranda isn't behind me anymore. She's waiting by the doorway with a p.i.s.sy look on her face.

I place the tray on the moving belt.

"Why aren't you smiling?" I ask her as we head back into the scorching Israeli death-heat.

"Because I don't feel like it. Why do you care, anyway? You hardly ever smile."

"Yeah, because I count on you doing it for me."

Miranda stops and puts her hands on her hips. "Amy, that doesn't even make sense."

"Neither does your p.i.s.sy att.i.tude. It reminds me of me and, to be honest, I wouldn't be able to stand a friend like me for very long."

"Are you saying I shouldn't be friends with you anymore?" She starts walking away, so I jog to catch up with her.

"When you smile, the world smiles with you, you know," I tell her.

I think she's about to laugh, but she doesn't. She starts walking faster. "You got that off of a greeting card or something."

"Well, if I was back home I'd run to Walgreens and get you a real card."

"What would you write in it?" she asks, challenging me to come up with something on the fly.

"I'd write ... I'd write ... Don't be upset, Miranda. If I did anything to upset you, please forgive me. I know I'm not always a good friend to you. But if you share with me, I can try and fix it. Your friendship is really important to me, which says a lot about you because I can't stand most people. Being friends with you makes me a better person. So please don't give up on me. Love, Amy.

P.S. When Nathan buys me another white chocolate Kit Kat, I'll give the entire thing to you."

I have to give myself kudos. That was a d.a.m.n good speech if I do say so myself.

Any moment now sweet, shy-at- times/bubbly-at-times Miranda will turn back to her old self again. I stop and give her a look that says I know she's about to cave and envelop me in one of her big, embarra.s.sing bear hugs. This time, I'm actually looking forward to it.

"I'll think about it," she says, then tosses her hair to the side and leaves me standing alone as she walks inside the barracks. No smile. No forgiveness. No bear hug.

Whoa. I just got a dose of Miranda the Diva dissing me.

13.

There's a point in time when even the strongest person cracks under pressure.

The next morning our unit marches across the large courtyard and doesn't stop until we get to what's obviously an obstacle course. There's no doubt in my mind that this will be a challenge for me.

"We'll be testing your strength and stamina," Sergeant B-S says to us. "This course should be completed in less than three minutes."

I tell myself not to look over at Avi, but as usual I have a serious lack of self- control. My gaze wanders to him and I find him looking straight at me. So now our eyes are locked. My insides are melting, but I'm still angry and hurt. Even though it's scorching hot outside and I can feel the sweat running down my back and in between my b.o.o.bs, a chill runs down my spine.

Sergeant B-S orders Nimrod and Avi to stand at the start of the obstacle course.

Both get ready to race. When the sergeant blows his whistle, they take off faster than Mutt when he spots a new dog at the dog park.

I watch Avi whiz through the course as if he's been doing this his entire life. I can't help but admire the muscles that bulge from his arms as he jumps to the monkey bars and grabs the first bar, then skips two bars at a time until he's done.

Then he crosses the balance beam.

When he gets to the high rope, he uses his thigh muscles and arms to pull himself to the top, rings the bell, then grabs a handle that brings him down to the ground.

Nimrod is right behind him. At the half wall they're neck and neck.

I'm holding my breath, wondering who will win. They reach the part of the course where you duck low under a set of entwined ropes. Avi gains a little ground as he slithers on the ground, not hesitating one iota.

In the end, Avi is the one who crosses the line first. Nimrod is close behind him.

Both are breathing heavily as Sergeant B-S tells us that Avi clocked in at thirty-eight seconds and Nimrod at forty-one.

Liron and Ronit line up next. When Sergeant B-S signals them to go, Liron blows Ronit away as she effortlessly does each obstacle. Ugh, no wonder Avi is attracted to her; not only is she pretty, but she can scale walls and shimmy up ropes.

It's probably more impressive than being double-jointed. Liron clocks in at one minute one second while Ronit lags behind, finishing at one minute thirty seconds.

"Get in the same groups you were in yesterday," Sergeant B-S calls out.

I try to act cool as I walk over to Avi.

Unfortunately, I'm not paying attention and trip over something or someone. Oops, it's Tori ... I've stepped on the back of her foot again and her shoe came off.

"Ouch!" Tori yells out. "That's the second time you've done that, you spaz."

"Well maybe if you walked faster I wouldn't step on you."

Nathan grabs my shoulders. "Stop getting in fights with Tori," he says as he steers me away from her.

"She's rude."

"She's hot."

"So am I," I say as I wipe away another sweat drop that's falling down my forehead.

"I didn't mean hot as in sweaty. I mean hot as in-"

"I know what you meant," I say, cutting him off. Seriously, ever since Nathan finally stopped being obsessed with Bicky, he's been acting like a Bachelor reality show contestant. Since our third kiss and his breakup, he's gone out with more girls than I can count on two hands. And it doesn't help that he's been lead singer for Lickity Split, because lately he's been taking his groupies backstage and making out with them. He hasn't gone out with anyone twice yet. It's like he wants to make sure he doesn't get involved so there's no repeat of what he went through with Bicky. I wonder why the change in tactic since he met Tori.

I grab Nathan's hand while we wait for our other team members to a.s.semble.

Nathan pulls his hand loose, but I know Avi's watching so I grab his hand again and squeeze my nails into his skin as a warning not to s.n.a.t.c.h it back.

Avi growls, "Wait here" and walks away to talk to Liron and some of the other Israeli team leaders.

"You're getting me in trouble with Avi,"

Nathan says through gritted teeth and a fake smile which makes him look like a marionette on Prozac.

"Do you remember when you had me fake-kiss you in front of your ex-bimbo Bicky, to let her know it was over between you guys?"

"Yeah. I seem to remember you biting me."

"Nathan, that was because your tongue crept into my mouth."

"I was making it authentic. Besides, don't deny you were getting into it."

"Because I was fantasizing you were my boyfriend." It's the honest truth: When I started kissing Nathan that last time, in front of Bicky, I was totally imagining he was Avi when we were last together- which was seriously the best night of my life. After fooling around in the car didn't work, Avi and I moved onto the deserted beach. His touches and kisses and caresses were more than OMG!

"He's looking at me like he wants to kill me," Nathan complains.

"Good. Now that he's watching us, kiss me," I whisper softly, moving my lips closer to his for a repeat performance.

Nathan pries his fingers loose and steps away, although we're far enough from our other team members that n.o.body can hear us. "Are you kidding? First of all, didn't you sign the Sababa rule sheet attached to the brochure? It said, specifically, no fornicating. We're in Israel. For all I know fornicating might include kissing."