How to Ruin a Summer Vacation (Ruined Series #1) (7 page)

CHAPTER 12

Boys are either jerks or clueless. Take your pick.

"Ron, I need to call home and my cell phone won't work." I've been in Israel almost six weeks and need to call home once again. First of all, Mitch is back from his camping trip and I need to talk to him. Second of all, I need to call Mom and Jessica.

Ron is sitting on the couch watching some news channel in Hebrew. Uncle Chime is with him, along with the corkscrew-haired Matan.

Matan is naked and he's been like that for the better part of my trip so far. Who am I to bring it up to them that their son isn't dressed and his pee-wee is dangling out for all the
moshav
to see. You'd think they would have noticed they're not living in a nudist colony.

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"I think your mom was going out of town," Ron says, his face still turned toward the television.

"So I'll call a friend."

"What's the number," he says as he heads toward the phone in the kitchen.

Obviously, like everywhere else around here, there's no privacy.

I recite Mitch's number and then he hands me the phone. I pull up a chair in front of the refrigerator and park myself there for the call.

"Hello," a scratchy voice answers.

"Mitch?" I say.

"Yeah?"

"It's Amy."

"Huh?"

"You know, your girlfriend," I say, starting to get pissed.

"Hey, babe. Sorry I haven't called, I got back late last night. Do you know what time it is?" he says, his voice still ragged.

"I'm in Israel, Mitch. And no, I don't know what time it is in Chicago because
I'm halfway across the globe."

"Wait, you lost me. Israel?"

"Are you sleeping or listening to me? 'Cause I can only make one call here and I've chosen to call you. It's like jail."

I hear him yawn and I can tell he's attempting to sit up instead of lie in bed. Hopefully now he'll pay some attention to what I'm saying.

"Mitch?"

"Wait, I gotta pee."

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I have an urge to bang my head against the wall.

"Can't it wait?"

"No."

I'm trying to disguise my annoyance in front of the rest of the family.

"Well, can you hurry it up a bit? This is long distance, you know."

"I'm tryin', babe."

In the background I hear a stream of pee hitting water and Mitch lets out a long, satisfying sigh. I don't know if I should feel flattered he feels comfortable enough to pee while he's on the phone with me, or grossed out.

"You done?" I ask after I hear a loud flush.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm back in my room."

"You didn't wash your hands."

I mean, if I heard him pee and flush I would have definitely heard the sound of him washing his hands.

"You just told me to hurry up. If I wash my hands I have to put the phone down. You wanna wait?"

"I guess not. Just remember to wash them when you get off with me," I say. "And then disinfect the phone with antibacterial spray."

"Leave it to you, Amy, to tell it like it is."

Unfortunately, Snotty opens the front door and walks in the house with Ofra. Avi,

Doo-Doo, and Moron follow them into the house. Great. Just my luck. Now I have a bigger audience to eavesdrop on my conversation with my boyfriend.

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Out of the corner of my eye I catch Avi looking at me, his jaw tense. I haven't talked to him since he
purposely
didn't apologize for watching me undress. I think we've been avoiding each other, actually. Which is just fine with me.

I turn my chair around so I'm facing the wall and say quietly into the phone, "You know what I like about you?"

"Shit," Mitch says, "I just stubbed my toe on my skateboard."

It's not the response I was aiming for.

"You okay?" I ask, trying not to lose my patience.

"I think I'm bleeding. Wait a minute."

As I wonder how much a phone call costs per minute from Israel to the United States, I twirl the cord around my finger.

It's hard while I'm waiting not to turn around to catch a glimpse of what the others are doing. They're talking loudly in Hebrew.

I can't stand it anymore. I take a glimpse at Avi. He's wearing a black T-shirt with some Hebrew lettering on it and faded jeans ripped in both knees. He's also wearing a silver-linked chain around his wrist.

Now, I've seen boys wear jewelry before and haven't thought it enhances masculinity in the least. But Avi wears the bracelet like it's a manly accessory. He makes the other guys look dorky for not having a silver link chain bracelet on their wrists.

When my gaze travels up, I feel like a Peeping Tom when I realize he's caught me checking him out. Lifting the bracelet hand, he gives me a mock salute.

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I can feel my face turn red and my blood starts to pound loudly in my head. He's seen me check him out. I want to die now, especially when he then walks up to Snotty and grabs her hand. That hand holding Snotty's is the same one that held my snake-guts-covered foot two weeks ago.

"Okay, I'm back," Mitch says. "No blood, but it still hurts like a bitch."

I forgot I was even on hold and, to be honest, wasn't paying attention to what Mitch just said. Turning back around, I giggle softly into the phone. Avi is trying to concentrate on Snotty, but I know for a fact he's listening to my end of the conversation.

"What's so funny?" Mitch asks. "I'm hurting here and all you can do is laugh?"

Have you ever tried to make other people think you're having a good time when you're not? What sucks is when the person you're with doesn't get it. They need to play along, but you can't tell them for fear of being discovered.
Play along with me, Mitch.

"I can't wait to go camping with you," I say.

Let Snotty and all of them realize I have someone back home waiting for me. For some reason I'll feel like less of a loser here for hanging out by myself every day.

"What's wrong with you?" he says. "You hate camping."

"Of course I do," I say, then giggle again.

Giggling doesn't come naturally to me, but I do a pretty good job of making it sound authentic. I think.

Although my boyfriend now thinks I'm a freakoid.

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"What about our tickets to the BoDeans concert at Ravinia for next weekend?" he says. "I spent fourteen bucks on those tickets, along with the extra thirty I spent on the Renaissance Faire tickets. You said you'd go with me."

Thankfully, the group heads outside. I let out a breath because I can finally be myself again.

I turn back around in the chair and stare at a flying spider-like thingy near the ceiling.

"Yeah, well that was before I got sucked into going to a country infested with

Ferragamo-stealing mutts and flying spiders."

"Huh?"

"Forget it. I wish I could be there with you, really I do."

God, I hope he doesn't ask Roxanne Jeffries to go out with him. She's his next-door neighbor and has been flirting with him all year. He even told me she undresses with the curtains wide open.

"Say, I've got an awesome idea. Take Jessica. She's not doing anything this summer except working at a day camp for kids. She'll go with you." And she'll keep an eye on you for me.

"Don't you think it'd be weird if I go out with your best friend?"

"It's not like it'd be romantic or anything."

Jessica doesn't even think Mitch is cute. She's told me he reminds her of a poodle on Prozac. Everyone's entitled to an opinion. Mom always says, "Opinions are like assholes, everybody's got one and everyone thinks everyone else's stinks." It's true.

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"I guess I could call her," he finally says.

"Tell her I miss her."

"Sure. When are you coming back?"

If I can manipulate Ron, very soon. "Before school starts, but who knows." We both go to Chicago Academy, a private high school.

He yawns. "Have fun."

As if.
"You, too. Don't miss me too much."

He gives a short laugh before saying, "Bye, Amy."

I think I hear the phone click before I answer, "Bye."

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CHAPTER 13

A star is just a star. Or is it?

It's nine o'clock the next morning and I'm bored, as usual. I eat breakfast, alone again, as I watch
Sofia
sit in her chair. Snotty came home late last night, her friends all laughing and making noise at two o'clock in the morning. I hate to admit it, but I'm sorry I stayed home. With the exception of Snotty and Avi, hanging with the group is kind of fun.

"Your
aba
wants you to go to the
sheeps.
He's waiting for you,"
Sofia
says.

"I don't want to."

I know I sound like a little kid, but why go into detail and hurt the ol' woman.

"He misses you."

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What? He wouldn't miss me even if I disappeared from this earth.

"I don't think so," I say as I stuff hummus into a pita and take a bite.

"He loves his homeland and wants to share it with you."

I have a mouth full of hummus as I blurt out, "Why doesn't he move back here if he loves it so much?"

"I bet you know the answer to that question, Amy. He stays away because of you. You're his family. His future. His blood. Wherever you are is his home now."

I kneel beside her while I listen to her voice. It's soothing, and when she talks it almost sounds like a lullaby. I'm loud. My mom is loud. I talk loud. I walk loud. I'm just a loud person. But this old lady is like cotton, everything about her is soft and quiet. She leans over and takes something out of her pocket.

"Hold out your hand," she says.

I hold my hand out. She drops something into it and gently closes my fingers over my palm.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Look at it."

I open my fist and look at a small gold and diamond Jewish star glittering in the center of my palm. It's attached to a thin gold necklace. The star is smaller than a nickel, just big enough to know what it is, but small enough to be almost...private.

I don't know what to say to her. Being Jewish isn't a part of me. Mom doesn't believe in religion so I've never been to

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church except for my cousin's wedding. I've never been to a synagogue, either, except for Jessica's bat mitzvah.

"I'd like you to have it,"
Safta
says. "It's called the
Magen David,
the star of David."

Man, I want it. I don't know why I want it, but I do. I'm not Jewish and would feel like a huge faker if I did take it. I mean, I could never wear it or anything. It's just so shiny and glittery and it actually means something important to
Safta.

"I can't take this," I say. When I note the disappointment in the eyes that are an exact replica of mine I add, "It's too beautiful."

"You have something else to say, don't you?"

How does she know?

I stand up and say, "I'm not Jewish."

I can't look at her. If I do, I might see she's upset because a non-Jewish girl is her granddaughter. I don't know how Israelis feel about non-Jews. For some reason I don't want to know if she resents me. 'Cause I like
Safta.
A lot.

"Look at me, my sweet Amy."

Me? Sweet? I raise my eyes and look straight at her.

She's smiling, the wrinkles around her eyes making deep creases as she takes my hand in hers, the one still holding the necklace with the small Jewish star pendant.

"Being Jewish is more in your heart than in your mind. For some, being Jewish is strictly following the laws and customs of our ancestors. For others, it's being part of a community. Religion is very personal. It will always be there for you if you want or need it. You can choose to

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embrace it or decide your life doesn't need it. Nobody can force religion on you or it's not real."

Looking down at the necklace in my hand, I say, "Can I keep it? Just for a little while. I'll give it back, I promise."

She pats the top of my head. "I used to wonder why my son stayed away from Israel for so long, but I see the way he looks at you. He wants to protect you, keep you from hurt or harm while trying to respect that inner fire you possess. It is genuine and pure. Take the necklace," she says, then hesitates before adding, "for as long as you want it."

Staring at this woman, who has eyes that mirror mine and who says words that turn my world upside down, disturbs my inner being. I clutch the necklace in my hand. Then I turn around and head for the refrigerator, looking for some water. Even though it's right in front of my face as I open the door, my limbs feel paralyzed.

I close the fridge and turn to
Safta
as I walk toward the door.

"I think I'll take a walk," I say.

I take one more look at the necklace before gently placing it in my back pocket.

I find myself walking toward the sheep. When I get close to the pens, the

Ferragamo-stealing mutt bounds toward me. Its filthy tail is wagging furiously, fanning his behind. Remembering my toes filled with snake-guts, I walk right past the dog and ignore its pathetic attempts at making up with me.

"Arg!"

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I look down at the thing. "Arg, yourself. Where's my sandal?"

"Arg!" Wag. "Arg!" Wag.

He trots off toward a hilly area beyond the pens and I think of how lucky that dog is to be free to do as he pleases. Even steal other people's shoes without repercussions.

I walk farther into the pens, the sound of baying sheep and electric razors leading me in the right direction. Spotting Ron, I head toward him. I convince myself that as long as I just hang out here, there's no reason Ron will think I'm incompetent and regret I'm his daughter.

"Amy, honey, over here!"

My eyes wander to the direction of Ron's voice. He's never called me honey before and it kind of startles me. What does that mean, anyway? Honey. It's sweet, but it's also sticky and doesn't come off your hands easily. Annoy-ingly sweet. Is that me? Not on your life.

He's leaning down, and his knees are locking a sheep down while he's shearing its wooly hair off. The sheep doesn't seem to mind, but I do.

"Ron, that's inhumane," I say.

He finishes running the razor through the sheep's fur while the fluff falls beside him. He finally releases the poor, naked animal and looks up at me.

"You have a better way?" he asks.

It's then I realize Ron isn't the only one shearing the sheep. O'dead is next to Ron,

Doo-Doo is next to O'dead, Uncle Chime is next to Doo-Doo, and Avi is next to my uncle. They're all exhausted, I can tell by the way they're

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breathing heavily and their shirts are wet with sweat. Not just their armpits and chests, their entire shirts are soaked through.

And they're all staring at me. Except O'dead. He's staring at Snotty, across in another pen. Hmmm.

The razor sounds stop and I feel like the world has, too. I think of something quick to say.

It comes to me like lightning and I blurt out, "Why don't you just leave the fur on?"

Duh. It sounds so simple I give a short laugh.

Chuckles from my right side alert me to my cousin and Ofra. Snotty's wearing a tight black shirt and her dark makeup is running down her cheeks while feeding a lamb with a bottle. Hasn't she ever heard of waterproof mascara? Or the term
less is more?

"They'll be too hot during summer months," Ron explains.

I sit down on one of the metal railings and watch. There are dogs in the middle of the pens, eating something red and gooey on the ground. My lips curl.

"What are the dogs eating?" I ask. Maybe I don't want to know, but my curiosity gets the best of me.

"One of the female sheep had a baby this morning."

"They're eating a lamb?"

"No, the placenta. It's very nutritious."

I gag. "Eww!" I say.

I shouldn't have asked. If I hadn't asked, I wouldn't know. GROSS! Baby sheep placenta. Blech! Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it.

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But the more I will myself to stop thinking about it the more I can't look away. Kind of like those bloody crime scenes they show on television. You don't want to watch, but can't help it.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mutt coming into the enclosure. He's small enough to go under the metal railings. When he looks at me, I squint at him.

"Do NOT eat sheep placenta," I tell him.

He nods at me, as if he understands what I just said. Then he tromps over to the placenta, starts to lick it, takes a part of the gooey, bloody thing in his mouth and tugs at it. I can't look any more.

If only Jessica were here, we could have a huge laugh at the whole grody situation. But she's not.

I walk over to where the newborn sheep are. A baby lamb stumbles over to me and I pet it with my hand.

"Hey sweetheart," I say.

"Baa," it whines back, which makes me smile.

I think it's the first time I've smiled since Matan put the flowers in my hair.

"Don't get too attached, he's going to be killed soon."

My heart sinks and my smile fades as quickly as it appeared. I turn to Snotty while I pick up the baby lamb.

"What?" I say.

"We have them slaughtered at three months old. That one's a boy so he'll be one of the first to go."

I look into the eyes of the small, helpless newborn and pull it closer to me protectively.

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I'm a carnivore. Although meeting the animal I'm going to eat up close and personal makes me sick to my stomach. He's so cute. How can I even think about the poor guy being slaughtered? Maybe I won't cut out carbs after all.

Matan comes trotting up the lane with
Doda
Yucky behind him. He's naked, as usual. What's funny is I'm getting so used to seeing the kid naked that it doesn't even faze me.

He comes into the pen and runs around with the lambs. He's screeching in delight as he runs and tries to catch them.

After a minute the lambs start running after him. But it's not to play, I realize they think his little pee-wee is another baby bottle nipple. He's laughing and running away from the lambs that are trying to get milk out of his thingy like it's a game. Looking around, I notice
Doda
Yucky is laughing, as well as the rest of the people who have now stopped shearing the sheep.

I run over to Matan and pick his naked little body up to protect him from the perverted lambs.

After I carry him back to safety, I say very loudly to anyone who can hear me, "That. Is.
Not.
Okay."

Matan isn't fazed, neither is anyone else. They're still laughing.
Doda
Yucky talks to Uncle Chime before she and Matan trot happily back to the house, thank goodness.

The razors start up again, all the men except for Ron bending over the poor sheep. He says something to Uncle Chime in Hebrew before coming over to me.

"I have a job for you," he says.

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