How to Ruin Series Part 69

"I'm up," I murmur.

"No, you're not. Come on! The guys from our unit are already outside."

I pull my pink silky pillow over my head. "I'm taking a mental health day."

"There are no mental health days in the military. Avi's there, too," she whispers in my ear.

I jump out of bed and give myself a nasty head rush. I strip off my PJs, strap on a bra, and get in my military uniform (which consists of an olive green b.u.t.ton- down s.h.i.+rt and matching pants). I toss the matching floppy hat into my cubby because there's no way I'm wearing it, and slip on my new red high-tops. Opening my makeup case, I know I only have time for minimal application.

"What are you doing?" Tori asks with a stupid sneer on her face.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm putting on makeup."

Tori rolls her eyes. "Do you think you're going to a party?"

I sneer back, one of my famous sneers that beats hers hands-down. The only sneer that can rival mine is my cousin O'snot's.

I quickly apply eyeliner, mascara, and colored lip gloss while everyone scrambles around.

Once outside, with my canteen strapped on my shoulder like a very ugly purse, I get in formation while I watch Avi. It's still dark, but I can see him clearly in the lighted courtyard. He doesn't look tired; he doesn't look as if he's just woken up before G.o.d did. And today he's wearing a huge military vest with pockets, filled with ammunition or whatever military stuff he's supposed to carry. To top it off, he's got on a military backpack and his rifle. He looks as if he's about to go on some dangerous mission and is able, willing, and ready for war.

Nathan, on the other hand, looks horrible. He's got really bad bed-head, and is obviously super tired because his eyes are at half-mast.

Liron, with her ever-present big-a.s.s rifle, asks Avi a question as she points to the papers on the clipboard she's carrying.

He quickly glances at me, then nods to her.

I'm trying to concentrate on Ronit's lecture about time ... something about time being important and how it could mean the difference between life and death in war.

She says we have to move faster. But I'm not listening, because I'm too busy wondering what Liron and Avi were just talking about. Besides, someone needs to clue Ronit in that we're just civilian trainees on a "fun" summer program. The brochure didn't say anything about actually going into combat.

Sergeant B-S is mysteriously absent. I think he must be getting his beauty sleep.

Avi, Nimrod, and three other Sayeret Tzefa trainees are in charge of our unit for this exercise. Ronit and Liron are coming along, too.

They make us stop by a big spigot coming out of the ground.

"Make a line and fill your canteens,"

Avi orders in a loud Israeli accent. He stands in front of the spigot, supervising, as we wait our turn to fill our canteens.

When it's my turn, Avi puts his hand on the small of my back. I swear that electrons or protons, or whatever they taught us in biology cla.s.s is in your body, zing up my spine. This boy, this man, this soldier ...

one minor touch from him reminds me of the time we were in my car on the beach back in Chicago. There were no parents, no friends, no military commanders around, no rules ... it was just the two of us. My mind wanders back to that night ...

"I want to forget how inexperienced you are," Avi groans as he leans back on the headrest of the car.

"So teach me," I say. I bite my lower lip as I reach up and unb.u.t.ton the top two b.u.t.tons of my s.h.i.+rt, well aware Avi's eyes are now totally focused on my task as I move my hands lower and start unb.u.t.toning the rest.

My hands are shaking-I'm not sure if it's from the cold car or my trembling nerves.

"Didn't you listen when your dad had the s.e.x talk? Didn't he tell you boys only want one thing?"

"Do you, Avi? Do you only want one thing?" I say as I open my s.h.i.+rt and reveal my bra beneath it.

"I have to be honest and say my body's only thinking about one thing right now."

"Take your s.h.i.+rt off," I order.

As his hands reach for the hem of his s.h.i.+rt he says in a strained voice, "Your dad's gonna kill me." He lifts his s.h.i.+rt over his head and tosses it onto the driver's seat with his eyes never leaving me.

As he brushes the tips of his fingers across my abdomen, the tingles send wild sensations through my body. "Are you okay with this?" he asks, his face serious.

I nod and give him a small smile. "I'll let you know when I'm not."

As I lean down to press our bodies against each other, his hands reach around under my open s.h.i.+rt and pull me toward him. "Your body ... so warm."

His hands are like a fire, consuming my body with his touch. I lean my head on his chest, hearing his heart beating the same erratic rhythm as my own while his hands move up and caress my hair, my bare back, and my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

As I reclaim his lips, raw emotions and new wonderful feelings whirl in my consciousness. I'm fully aware I'm not ready to have s.e.x, but I'm ready to experience more ...

"You okay?" Avi asks me, bringing me back to the reality of my life called boot camp. I wish we were in my car right now instead of here.

"Uh, yeah. Are you?"

Avi wants to be a harda.s.s in the IDF and not show emotion. He once told me I'm the one person who makes him emotional, and that scares him.

I think of how I lured him to spend time alone with me yesterday. I guess deep down I knew if I begged him to go somewhere private with me he wouldn't refuse-even if it was against the rules. I have the power to make him forget the rules, and I abused that power.

Oh, no! I'm like Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's poor Adam. Amy = The Dark Side.

My canteen is full, so I have to step aside. "Do you hate me?" I murmur.

He shakes his head and smiles. "No."

"I'm sorry you had to do pushups yesterday."

He examines his roughed-up palms. "I deserved it."

I feel a tension between us. I'm desperate for that tension to go away.

"Amy, I have to tell you something."

Good. I hope he says he loves me. I hope he says he's glad I'm here. I hope he says he wishes we were alone together. I gaze into his eyes and say in a hopeful voice, "What? What do you want to tell me?"

"Wear your hat."

"My hat?" Is he kidding me?

"Wear it. It's for your protection."

"I look dorky in hats, Avi. I'm not wearing it."

"You'll look worse with sunburn."

"Thanks for the tip," I say, kind of sarcastically, then head back into formation. I'm not wearing the hat, and I'm sulking. I know I shouldn't expect Avi to say romantic stuff to me while we're here, but I want to hear those things coming out of his mouth nonetheless.

When everyone's canteen is full, we get fifteen minutes to scarf down breakfast, then we head out the gates of the army base in perfect formation. We march to Avi's small-ya'mean-smalls for a while. Every so often he orders all of us to drink from our canteens. It's no sparkling Perrier, and it's not cold, but it's wet and feels good going down my throat.

Avi and two other guys are standing in front of us, rifles cradled in their hands.

The other Sayeret Tzefa trainees are flanking us on all sides.

You'd think I'd be freaked out with all the rifles and military precautions. But I'm not. I know the risks of being in Israel, and so do the Israelis. While they go on with their daily lives, refusing to give in to the fear of terrorism, they do what they can to protect themselves. I feel safe with these warriors protecting me.

We continue marching. This time Nimrod calls out the marching chant. The dawn chill disappears and the air grows warmer, a hint the sun will be up soon. The longer we march, the more the landscape looks like a barren desert. Mountains and rocks are our only scenery, and the uneven pebbly ground meets our shoes.

Some kids at school have asked me what's so special about Israel. It's not like there's a fun amus.e.m.e.nt park to go to or specific "wonders of the world" like the pyramids in Egypt. Israel is special just by being here-if you've never been to Israel, you can't fully "get it." You can tell you're in Israel because of the people. Israeli citizens are determined and strong. They're harsh, but have a heart. They refuse to let terrorism or fear disrupt their daily lives- maybe it's because of the Holocaust and maybe it's because they've lived in a war zone for so long. Whatever it is, their determination to live life to the fullest, without fear, is contagious.

The land of Israel mimics the citizens of its country. The harsh landscape of the Negev desert makes you wonder why people settled here, until you reach the historical sites and are awed by the rich history of the land. Where my cousins live, in the Golan Heights, you wonder why anyone would live so far from civilization until you step to the edge of the mountain- the Sea of Galilee s.h.i.+nes at you and confirms your belief in G.o.d all over again.

I'm not feeling the mystical effect of Israel right now, though, because I haven't had enough sleep to appreciate the Jewish homeland. Just when I'm about to complain about rocks in my high-tops, we're ordered to stop and take another five-minute rest.

I'm talking to Jessica and Miranda when Nathan walks up to us. "I feel like Moses wandering in the desert for forty years," he says.

"Why do you think they brought us here?" Miranda asks as she wipes her sweaty face with her sleeve.

Jess shrugs. "Beats me. I'm hot and crabby. Amy, go ask Avi why we're here."

"No."

"Why not?" Nathan asks. "He's your soulmate, right? Isn't that what you called him last week when I asked why you were saving yourself for that big oaf?"

"Um, uh, I hate to break the bad news, but that big oaf is standing right behind you," Jess informs him.

Nathan looks at Miranda. "Tell me she's lying," he groans.

Miranda's answer is a rapid shake of her head.

Avi shoves a shovel the length of his arm at Nathan.

"What's this for, to dig my own grave?"

Nathan asks as he takes the shovel out of Avi's grip.

"I'm not that lucky," Avi says. "Follow me."

Everyone else is a.s.sembling next to a soldier from Sayeret Tzefa. In all, there are five groups of eight people, each with a small shovel. Avi's team consists of me, Jessica, Miranda, Tori, Nathan, and three other American guys named David, Eli, and Ethan.

"This is a contest," Nimrod says. His group stands next to ours, and Avi is stoic as he watches Nimrod explain. "You have to dig a ditch two meters long and one hundred centimeters deep. The winning group gets a ride back to base camp."

Oh, we are SO winning this since Avi is on our team. I clap my hands excitedly and pat my boyfriend's back.

"Don't be too excited. Team leaders can't help."

Huh? Without his help, there's no way we can win. We've got Tori on our team, and after spending a day with her, I know she's going to be a pain in the b.u.t.t.

Nathan's got this testosterone fight going on with Avi so his focus isn't on the prize.

We've got Miranda, but she's still panting and sweating from the hike. If pushed more, she might just pa.s.s out. David, Eli, and Ethan are all from big cities and are staring at the shovel as if it's a foreign object.

We're hopeless.

"Put your canteens down," Avi orders.

He's treating me just like everyone else.

It bothers me. I want him to act like my boyfriend and let everyone know we're a couple. Yes, I'm aware it's selfish and immature, but at least I'm willing to admit it.

"Start digging!" Nimrod orders.

We all look to Avi for direction. He's standing with his arms crossed on his chest, watching us, not saying anything.

"He's obviously not going to help us," I inform my group. "You have the shovel, Nathan. Start digging."

Nathan picks a spot on the ground and starts digging. Dirt and rocks are flying in the air behind him as he quickly gets to work.

After ten minutes, he stops. "My fingers are starting to get numb." He hands the shovel to me. "Your turn."

I take the shovel and start where Nathan left off. I think I'm doing pretty well, although my team is totally annoying.

"Dig harder," Ethan urges.

"Faster!" David screams when I feel a fingernail break and stop digging for a fraction of a second to check it.

The problem is, we're not digging in the sand. We're digging up rocks that may have been here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Maybe our holy forefathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob walked on these rocks we're digging. It's not an easy task, and now the sun has come up and hits me in the face. I wish I had my sungla.s.ses, because now I'm squinting. I'll be able to blame my premature wrinkles on this rock-digging experience.

I feel a tickle on the back of my hand. I need to scratch it, but don't want to stop digging because I want to (1) show Avi that I can be a good ditch-diggin' soldier and (2) I don't want to small-ya'mean- small back to the base. I really want a ride.

When the itching bugs me so much I can't ignore it, I hesitate and look down at my hand.

Oh! My! G.o.d!

There is a HUGE creepy black spider crawling on me. I throw down the shovel and shake my hand vigorously.

"AAAHHHHHH!" I scream and run, not able to stop the heebie jeebies. I keep shaking my hand just in case the creepy crawler is still on me.

What if it bites me?