How to Ruin Series Part 18

Like other s.e.xually transmitted diseases that last a lifetime.

Like an unwanted baby-like me!

There's no way in h.e.l.l I'm going to risk bringing a baby into this world without being married to the man I love. Unlike both of my parents. I mean, what were they thinking? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be alive. But the c.r.a.p I've had to go through my whole life, including this trip and my mom's brain fart by agreeing to marry Marc is ruining my life.

I mean, if we were a normal family I'd be in heaven-not Israel.

Great. Now I'm lying spoon-style with a guy I'm not even remotely interested in. In fact, I know he likes my cousin.

How do I get myself into these situations in the first place? This sleeping bag is way too small for the two of us. And I'm painfully aware my mongo b.o.o.bs are pressed against O'dead's back.

Closing my eyes, I pray sleep will come fast. But now that I can't see, my other senses are heightened. Like the sound of the fire crackling, the crickets chirping.

Like the masculine, musky scent of Avi lingering on his pillow. Like hoping my nipples aren't poking O'dead's back because it's so d.a.m.n cold outside. It's all keeping me awake, which gives me a great idea.

I wait five minutes before I start snoring.

Of course I'm up, but I have to make it sound authentic. I make sure my mouth is close to O'dead's ear before I start. First, I make this long, slow snoring sound that doesn't really sound like a snore at all, but loud breathing.

Keeping my eyes closed, I breathe in loudly and exhale with the back of my tongue vibrating against the roof of my mouth.

O'dead s.h.i.+fts, probably attempting to wake me up. Only I'm not really sleeping so it doesn't work.

I snore a little louder, and this time add a little nose and extra back-throat noises with just the right touch.

I continue this for a few minutes, ignoring his fidgeting and restless moving around in the sleeping bag made for one- and-a-half. In fact, I should be up for an academy award for this performance.

Some would say it's not nice to trick people. But listen, sleep is more important than anything. And if I don't get enough sleep, I'm going to be crabbier than I usually am come morning.

Heavy breath. Exhale loudly. Nose and back-throat combo. Exhale softer. Nose only. Exhale loudly. Heavy breath. Exhale normal.

I'm mixing up the order so it sounds authentic. Genius, right?

The finale is coming. I know it, but n.o.body else does.

Heavy breath. Exhale softly.

Here it comes . . .

Sleep apnea-type choke as loud as possible. Exhale normal. I know how to do this because Marc snores. Mom thinks I can't tell when he sleeps over because he leaves at five in the morning or something like that. The guy sounds louder than a train wreck. I wonder how Mom can stand it; it keeps me up half the night and my room is way down the hall.

I do another one of those obnoxious apnea-type snorts and sure enough O'dead starts wiggling out of the sleeping bag.

Mission accomplished.

I hear O'dead walk away and I squeeze one eye open to spy on him. I know he's going to ask Snotty to sleep in her sleeping bag. Ha! I am so sneaky.

But as my one eyeball scans the area inconspicuously, I get a weird feeling someone's watching me. Then I realize why I feel that way. Avi's looking straight at me, and he gives me this I-know-you're- a-faker look with those depthless, brown eyes of his.

He's getting to be a real pain in my a.s.s.

I give him a harrumph, quickly shut my eye and go back to pretending I'm sleeping.

21.

If humans were meant to be in water, we would have been born with fins.

"Amy, wake up."

I squint to the sound of my cousin's voice and the early morning sun.

"I'm sleeping," I say, then shut my eyes and turn over.

"You can sleep later," Snotty says.

"We're leaving in five minutes."

I moan, because as I stated earlier I'm not a morning person. Heck, sometimes I'm not even a day person. I turn back around and squint my eyes open again as I look at her.

"I thought this camping thing was supposed to be a vacation."

"Yeah. So?"

"Yeah, so . . . why wake up before you have to?" I say.

Snotty crouches down and whips the pillow out from under my head. Which, by the way, slams down on the rock beneath it.

"Ouch!" I yell. "Give that back!"

But she's not listening to me because my dear cousin's back is facing me as she walks away. With, I might add, my pillow under her smelly armpit.

Okay, so it's not exactly my pillow. But it was last night and it was really fluffy and soft and smelled really comforting. I know that's probably not possible. That's just how it felt to me.

Reluctantly, I get up and head over to the Jeep where the rest of the gang is hanging out.

"It's too early," I say in a moaning, groggy voice.

n.o.body answers me, they're all packing up their stuff. And they're all dressed.

What is it with these people, getting up and dressed at the crack of dawn?

"Ready to go," Avi says to me.

I open my arms wide, showing him my pajamas. "Do I look ready?"

"Maybe there's miscommunication. I didn't ask you if you were ready to go. I'm saying we're going. Now. It's not always about you, Amy."

I give him my famous sneer. "I do not always think it's about me," I say.

I watch as one of his eyebrows rises up in amused contempt. Then he has the audacity to fetch my backpack and shove it at me.

"I'd advise you to wear a bathing suit,"

he says.

"Why, where are we going?" I ask.

"Kayaking. Down the Jordan River."

When should I break the news to him I'm not going to kayak down the Jordan River, or any other river for that matter? I don't kayak. I don't canoe. I don't even swim well.

But just to show him I don't think it's all about me, I stalk off to change behind some bushes.

When I come back, everything is packed up and in the flatbed truck. O'dead is driving and next to him in the front is O'snot. Of course Ofra is cuddling up next to Doo-Doo. So that means I have to sit next to Avi.

Great, just what I need first thing in the morning. I park myself next to him and make sure I don't make eye contact. It's starting to get warm outside so I have shorts on and a bikini top.

But as we start moving, I realize my choice in tops is not the best. d.a.m.n, I forgot the rocky road we're driving on does not bode well for my b.o.o.bs.

The bikini top I'm wearing is not a support bra, not even close. And when O'dead starts driving faster, I have no choice but to hold on to the railing. Which means my b.o.o.bs are bouncing around like buoys on a windy day. Maybe I will have a b.o.o.b reduction after all, detached pinky parts or not.

I guess Avi realizes I'm uncomfortable because he s.h.i.+fts closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. He holds me so strongly I don't have to hold on to anything and my b.o.o.bs are shmushed so tightly they aren't moving, either.

I should pull away from him. I should slap him for holding me like I'm his. But I feel so . . . stable against him. Nothing's bouncing out of control and that's a good thing. So I stay where I am.

Until, minutes later, we finally turn onto a paved road. I yank myself out of his embrace and push my shoulders back in a dignified manner. Or as dignified as I can while wearing a bikini top.

Luckily, as I look at Ofra and Doo-Doo, they're too involved in gazing into each other's eyes to notice what's going on.

Good.

Before long, we've turned into a large parking lot. Everyone gets out of the Jeep and heads to the entrance of the place.

Except me.

"Come on," Snotty says as she puts on her backpack.

"I'm not going."

"Why?"

"I'll just wait until you get back."

"You'll be waiting a long time, Amy.

Moron is meeting us at the end of the river.

We're not coming back here for a couple of days."

My heart starts pounding fast.

"Did you say a couple of days?"

"Yeah. Don't be scared. Kayaking is fun."

I give a little huff as I think of white- water rapids and all the different ways I could die in the water.

"I'm not scared. I just . . . well, I don't like water all that much. Maybe there's a phone around here and I can . . ."

She puts her hands on her hips and interrupts me, saying, "You're scared, but you won't admit it. If you're such a baby, I'll ride with you."

I pick up my backpack and jump out of the truck, my feet landing on the gravel parking lot with a loud thud. I put on my sungla.s.ses and look up at her. "You don't know anything."

"I know you think you're tough, but you're really not."

I start walking toward the entrance to the kayak place and say, "And I know O'dead likes you way more than a friend."

She runs to catch up with me. "What did you say?"

"O'dead likes you."

"Only as a friend."

I throw my backpack over my shoulder.

"I see the way he looks at you. It's definitely more than friends.h.i.+p."

"Can you find out for sure?" she asks with hope in her voice.

I shrug. "You're Israeli," I say. "Why don't you go straight up to him and ask him? You keep reminding me how Israelis don't bulls.h.i.+t or beat around the bush."

"I . . . I can't."

I huff loudly, mocking her like she mocks me all the time. "Okay, I'll ask him for you." We start walking toward the river together. "By the way, I don't think I'm tough," I say. "I am tough."

22.