How to Ruin a Summer Vacation (Ruined Series #1) (8 page)

CHAPTER 14

Determination and skill is half of the job. Dumb luck is the other half.

I follow him to the other end of the enclosure, which is thankfully in the shade.

"When the
sheeps
are done being sheared, herd them into this pen."

I look over at the skinny, bare-assed animal. Man, they looked so fat, puffy, and large with all that fuzzy hair, it's unbelievable how much smaller and vulnerable they look after a shave. I can just sense their self-consciousness as a shiver runs through my bones.

But I'm determined to help. I think.
Don't screw this up, Amy.
My eyes wander to Snotty, feeding the baby animals with bottles of milk. That looks like fun. Why do I get stuck with herding the bare-assed ones into a pen?

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What if they start getting frisky with me? Worse, what if they start getting frisky with each other? Blech!

"You able to do it?" Ron asks.

"Of course," I say with more conviction than I feel. "Piece of cake," I add.

If I do this, maybe he'll be proud of me.

Uncle Chime lets one of the sheep go and it struggles to its feet. It's a male one, I can tell by the dangling thing in between its legs. And he's staring at me from the corner of the pen.

"Go on," I say.

But above the buzzing of the shearing I bet he can't hear me.

The sheep stares at me with his big, spooky, gray eyes. I wonder if he'll charge me. I move a step closer. He doesn't move.

"Go on," I say a bit louder this time.

Sincerely hoping nobody is watching me, I take another step toward the animal.

He backs up.

"This way, dummy," I say.

The thing won't listen to me. Damn. I look over at Ron, but thankfully he's not paying attention.

It's me against the sheep. Did I say the thing looked small and vulnerable after being shaved? I take that back. Before I step toward the menacing four-legged, bare-assed sheep with a dangling thing between its legs, out of the corner of my eye I see another sheep stand up. It heads next to the first one. Now I have two to deal with.

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Avi stands up and heads over to get another fuzzy, fur-filled sheep to shear. As he does, our eyes meet. I still haven't forgiven him for the snake-guts incident. It's unbelievable he won't apologize for watching me while I was as naked as the sheep he's shearing. Kind of ironic, isn't it? I plead to him with my eyes,
Help me.

He looks back at me with contempt.
Not on your life, Amy. You're on your own.
Jerk. Not that he actually voiced those words, but I know he was thinking it.

Screw him. I take another step toward the two sheep. Maybe if I channel their psyche they'll do what I want. I open my eyes wide and look at the bigger one intently.
Go inside the pen,
I urge with my mind. Focus, Amy, I tell myself. I put my fingertips on my temples in order to channel my thoughts to the damn four-legged creature who's looking at me like I'm a nutcase.

I feel a presence standing beside me. Turning abruptly, I almost knock into Avi. The confused expression on his face, with furrowed eyebrows and chocolate irises, tells me he thinks I'm a mashed potato (which, just in case you aren't familiar with the slang term, means a brainless human being).

"Yah!" he yells while stomping his foot on the ground. This coming from a guy who thinks
I'm
a mashed potato.

I turn back to the sheep, who have now just run into the adjacent pen at his command/stomp routine.

Avi's got this arrogant smirk on his face like he's done some massive accomplishment.

"I bet your boyfriend can't do that," he says.

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How dare he bring Mitch into this ...this ...this ..."I bet he wouldn't even want to," I say back.

For the rest of the afternoon, I copy the yell-stomp technique Avi showed me and I've become quite the herder.

At one point Ron even said, "Good job, honey." He'll never know how much those words meant to me.

Right after the adults leave the pens for the day, I watch as the teens gather together on bales of hay over ten feet tall.

I walk past them until Ofra yells down at me. "Amy, come up here."

Snotty glares at her, but Ofra ignores her.

"No, thanks," I say.

Avi is up there, sitting like he was born ten feet off the ground.

"She's scared to climb up here," he says. "She's got big words, but little courage."

Unbelievable. One minute he's trying to help me and the next he's being the biggest showoff and insulting me. It doesn't take more to get me climbing up the yellow, wiry straw

When I get to the top, I don't know where to sit. I hang my feet over the edge of the hay and lean back. All eyes are on me. I turn to Avi and give him a little to stew about.

"Why do you hate me?" I ask.

I know this shouldn't be laundered in public like this, but I can't help it. I need to know, and I need to know now.

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Avi doesn't answer and everyone else is looking away from him.

"Don't take it personally," Doo-Doo says. "He's been like this for a while."

"Why?" I direct my question to Doo-Doo, but I'm still looking at Avi.

Nobody says anything. The tension is as hot as the sun beating down on my back.

Avi barks out words in Hebrew I obviously can't possibly understand. My Hebrew vocabulary is limited to about five words. He knows this. Snotty knows this. Hell, they all know it.

Which makes me feel like one of those flying spider-looking things back at the house. Not a spider, not a fly. Just somewhere in-between.

They all start arguing. At once. Very loudly. It sounds like one big phlegm-fest because it seems as if every word in Hebrew has the 'ch' sound coming out of the middle of their throats.

It'd be nice to know what they're all talking about. Are they discussing why Avi hates me? It sure feels that way. But they're arguing.

It's obvious Avi and Snotty hate me, I'm so glad the other kids have been nice. O'dead leans his body closer to Snotty's each time he talks. Interesting observation I'll reserve for later. I wonder what it is about her that attracts all the guys? Anyone can have black makeup running down their face.

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I stand, ready to climb down from this haystack. I feel so uncomfortable around Avi and Snotty

"You want to come on a camping trip with us?" Doo-Doo asks.

My eyebrows furrow. Before I can answer, Avi interrupts me.

"Mah-pee-tome!"
Avi says to Doo-Doo.

"Llama-low?"
Doo-Doo says back to his friend.

"Hello? Why don't you speak English?" I finally say. "Don't you realize it's rude to talk privately while I'm right in front of you?"

Ofra leans back on her elbows and nods her head. "She has a point."

My eyes blink. I could almost kiss the girl on the lips for supporting me so much. Although I don't go that way. But if I did, I would.

Avi groans.

"I don't go camping," I say.

"You said you were going with your boyfriend. I heard you on the phone," Avi challenges.

Think quick, Amy. He's got your number.

"Yeah, well, I only go with him. Mitch has been a Boy Scout since he was, like, five years old or something."

Snotty hisses. "Amy, you make up stuff to try and look good. What's real with you and what's not? Avi's right about you."

Silence. Until I feel my patience snap inside my body.

I know I shouldn't start up with someone I have to share a room with. And I know it probably isn't the smartest

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thing to go off on my cousin in front of an audience. She probably won't understand what I'm going to say anyway because of the language barrier. But I can't help it, there's like an overload of adrenaline running through my brain.

Even as I tell myself to keep my mouth closed, I hear myself say, "Do you get off on being a royal bitch? 'Cause ever since I met you, you've treated me like a piece of shit." I'm on a roll and my mouth is working overtime. "I can't stand you, your short shirts, tight pants ... or your sorry excuse for breasts! How's that for being real?"

I wave my finger at Avi. "And you, all you've got to offer is a bad attitude and a chip on your shoulder. I
will
go camping, just to piss ...you ...off! You don't like it, don't go. Then you can be an Israeli with a big mouth and little courage."

"You think you got courage?" Avi challenges me.

"Damn straight. I could push you off this thing without thinking twice."

He stands up, his mouth upturned in a smirk. "I dare you."

Okay, I think about it. But only once. Then I push his chest with all the strength I have.

He doesn't budge, the guy is like a rock.

When I hear his laugh, I turn around and jump down the piles of hay until I reach the ground. Wouldn't you know it a feeling of rationality comes over me right now. And I think:

I don't know why tears are rolling down my face.

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I don't know why I just blew up at two people I'm going to have to see for the next month.

And I sure as hell don't know why I agreed to go on a camping trip in the middle of a war zone with people who hate me.

God, I'm in Israel, the Holy Land. Where are you?

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CHAPTER 15

When the pickins are slim, you take what you can get.

That night after dinner, I'm watching television with
Doda
Yucky when Snotty's friends come barging in the door. Why don't people lock their doors around here?

Snotty and Ofra come out of the bedroom dressed in slinky, short, tight-fitting dresses. Avi, Doo-Doo, and O'dead are wearing jeans with long-sleeve T-shirts.

I don't ask where they're going tonight, because I don't care. I'm perfectly happy to sit in front of the television all day. I've been pleasantly surprised that there's a lot of American shows on TV in Israel. That's probably why Israelis know so much English.

Ron, who has been talking on the phone most of the evening, comes over to me. "The kids are going to a disco."

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A disco? Discos went out in, like, the seventies. "Good for them," I say.

"Don't you want to go?"

"No."

"It might be fun to get off the
moshav."

If he only knew what I said to O'snot earlier. I insulted her clothes
and
her boobs. I'm not about to admit those little facts to Ron.

"I'm going to ask them to take you," he says, and before I can stop him he stands up and walks over to Snotty. He says something in Hebrew to her.

She says something back.

At this point
Doda
Yucky interrupts her, her voice in a scolding tone. Then my aunt walks over to me and takes my hand. "O'snot wants to take you out with her friends."

Yeah, right.
But the lady just fought on my behalf, and I don't have the heart to argue with her. Instead, I shoot a scalding look at Ron, the person who got me into this mess in the first place.

Ten minutes later I find myself in Avi's car, being driven down the mountain. Avi and Snotty ignore me, but I don't blame them. I hate them, they hate me. It's a mutual

hate-hate relationship.

When we pull up to the "disco," I get out of the car and follow Snotty, Ofra, Doo-Doo, O'dead, and Avi to the entrance. It looks like a large warehouse. Loud music is blaring from the place and colorful, blinking lights are shining through large windows.

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I halt as soon as I scan the long line of people waiting to get in. "Is it safe?" I ask.

"I promise there aren't any snakes inside for you to accidentally step on," Snotty says, then laughs at me.

My eyes flash in outrage as I focus on Avi. How could he have told Snotty about the snake-guts mishap? What a betrayal. Now I feel humiliated because of him.

"Come on," Ofra says, locking my arm with hers as she leads me to the line.

I toss my hair back and stand in line. When I reach the front, an army guard makes me open my purse and he checks the contents. I expect him to ask me for an ID, but he doesn't. I guess in Israel there are no age restrictions for dance clubs. When the army guy waves me on, I have to go through a metal detector in order to enter the 'disco.'

Boy, they're not taking any chances. If we had a soldier at the entrance to every town, shopping mall, and bar in the United States, we'd be out of soldiers. There wouldn't be anyone left to protect our country.

I walk in, and the floor is vibrating to the beat of the music because it's so loud. Snotty, Ofra, O'dead, and Doo-Doo go directly to the dance floor and start dancing. Avi is leaning against a railing, brooding as usual. But he's surrounded by girls while he's standing there so he doesn't look like a loner.

Me? Well, I'm standing here alone because I don't feel like dancing right now. It's

wall-to-wall people, but I manage to squeeze through the crowd, heading for the bar. I

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need a Coke, or at least something in my hand so I'm not just standing around staring at people.

Luckily, I snag the only open barstool before anyone else can get their butt on it.

I take a moment to take it all in. The people at the disco are wearing very trendy outfits. They're also dancing, laughing, and drinking. The air smells like cigarette smoke; obviously there aren't smoking laws here.

I don't go to clubs back home because I'm only sixteen and they won't let me in until I'm twenty-one. But when I do, I'm going to have as much fun as these Israelis.

The bartender says something to me in Hebrew and places a beer mug in front of me with yellow liquid inside.

"I speak English," I say at the top of my lungs so he can hear me above the music.

He leans forward and says in my ear, "The guy over there bought you the drink."

He points to the other end of the bar, where a guy wearing a white button-down shirt with most of the buttons undone is sitting. Is he kidding? The guy looks as if he's about Avi's age, and has long hair. And it's not cool long hair, it looks like it's been greased back with too much hair gel. He's probably the
one
uncool guy in the whole place.

Great. I'm an uncool guy magnet.

To my horror, the guy is walking over to me as if he's some macho dude. He's wearing a huge grin on his face, which looks like it hasn't been shaved in a week.

I need help here.

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Snotty and the gang are on the dance floor so they won't be much help. I search the room for Avi, who's obviously moved away from the railing. If I find him, I could pretend he's my date so this guy will leave me alone.

When my eyes finally settle on Avi, I realize he's not brooding anymore. He's dancing with some Hilary Duff look-alike.

To make matters worse, he's a good dancer. Not one of those guys who only moves from side to side. No, Avi moves like he's been born to dance with a girl in his arms.

I watch in disgust as he leans forward and says something into her ear, then they both laugh. For some reason I wish it wasn't so loud that he would have to be so close to her to talk. I don't care about him, I'm just pissed that he's having a good time and I'm not.

"Alio, ay zeh cusit"
Uncool Guy says once he's weaved his way through the crowd and is now standing in front of me.

"I speak English," I say, shrugging apologetically.

"My English not so good," he says. "You American?"

"Yes."

His eyes light up. "You want dance with me? My dancing better than my English."

I peer around him and take a peek at Avi, who is still dancing with his blond bimbo. Grabbing the guy's hand, I lead him to the middle of the dance floor.

I've taken classes at Julie's Dance Studio since I was four years old, so I'm not afraid to let loose. Listen, I wouldn't choose this guy to dance with, but at this point I can't be picky.

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As I listen to the music, I pretend I'm dancing with my boyfriend. When the guy puts his hands around my waist, I want to think it's Mitch's hands holding me against him.

I close my eyes. The only problem is that in my imagination they're not Mitch's hands. They're Avis. The guy I hate is haunting pure thoughts of me and my boyfriend.

Wait a minute. I think the guy I'm dancing with is feeling my back as if he's trying to locate the clasp on my bra. I open my eyes and whip around to face the
perv.
Lucky for me my bra fastens in the front.

I stop dancing. The perv leans forward to talk to me-- it's too loud to hear unless the person is screaming in your ear. I think he's about to apologize, until I feel this slimy wet thing trying to climb into my ear canal.

What the hell
is
that?

When I realize Uncool Guy is trying to turn me on by sliding his Gene Simmons tongue around my ear and trying to shove it down my ear canal, I shriek and push him back. Anything to get his tongue as far away from my ear as possible.

Unfortunately, I've pushed him into some other people who were dancing. They're not too happy with me or the licker and push him back. This starts more pushing, and soon the place is out of control.

Oh, crap.

I'm lost in the crowd, unable to move because the crowd has turned into a mob. When someone grabs my hand and leads me out, I'm grateful.

Until I recognize Avis bracelet attached to that hand.

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I stumble outside with Avi and the rest of the mob. They've cleared out the club. When I see a police car with its lights flashing, I panic. Because someone over by the police car is talking to the soldiers and policemen while pointing at me.

"Shit. Amy, don't say anything," Avi says. "Let me talk."

When the soldiers and policeman come up to us, I zip my mouth shut.

"Mah aseet,"
the soldier says.

When Avi starts to talk, the guy puts up a hand and points to me.

I wanted to keep my mouth shut, I really did. My intentions were to stand here and stay silent. "I speak English," I blurt out.

"Did you start pushing people on the dance floor?" the soldier guy asks gruffly.

"Only because of the ear licker. I mean, at first he tried to feel me up but then, well, I thought he was going to apologize. Instead, my ear starts getting slimy and I realize he's not apologizing, he's giving my ear a tongue bath."

I know I'm rambling. I'm scared, and I know I deserve to be punished for causing a whole club to clear out because of me. A cold knot is forming in my stomach and I clutch Avi's hand.

Then, suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of the guy with the tongue. "There he is!" I yell.

The licker just backs up and disappears behind a car.

The soldier barks out orders at Avi and storms off.

"What did he say?"

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"To take you home now or else he'll arrest you. Come on," he says.

"Do you have a Q-tip?" I ask him.

"Why?"

Duh! "So I can wipe that guy's germs out of my ear. I bet I already have an ear infection because of that dude."

He's walking so fast I can hardly keep up with him.

"You don't blame me for what happened back there, do you?"

When we reach Avi's car, he turns to me. "You were turning that guy on with your dancing. What did you expect?"

I meet his accusing eyes without flinching. "He knew I was American. Maybe Israelis like wet tongues in their ear, but in America--"

"He knew you were American?"

"Yeah. I told him when he bought me the beer."

"Beer? You were drinking alcohol with that guy? No wonder he thought you were easy."

"For your information, I am not easy."

"American girls have a reputation around here."

"Stop using me as proof of your stereotypes, Avi. It's not fair. Besides, you were shakin' it plenty tonight. You're just jealous because your blond bimbo didn't want to suck y
our ear
off."

Snotty and friends are walking toward us. I cross my arms in front of my chest, waiting for them so we can go home.

"Someone started a fight inside the disco," Ofra says to me, offering her explanation of the commotion.

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I bite my tongue and keep silent, but Avi glances sideways at me.

"You," Snotty says. "You started it, didn't you? I should have guessed. You can't do anything right."

"Leave her alone," Doo-Doo says. I want to kiss him right now for sticking up for me.

Feeling like I have support, I say to Snotty defiantly, "I can do anything you can do." And then, because adrenaline is flowing through my body I add, "And I can do it better."

The look on her face is priceless. She's thinking. I can almost hear her rusty, unused brain creaking as it's working. "Shear a sheep," she blurts out. "Tomorrow morning."

"No problem," I say with confidence, even though on the inside I'm shuddering at the thought of holding down a poor, defenseless sheep while I cut his fur off until he's naked.

But I'll do it, just to prove to everyone I don't screw everything up.

I just hope I don't make a fool out of myself.

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