How to Ruin Your Boyfriend's Reputation (3 page)

22

We all set our suitcases inside the barracks, then follow Ronit.

"Where are the bathrooms?" I ask. "I had an entire Diet Coke on the bus and I've got to pee."

"Me, too," Jessica says.

Miranda admits she's been holding it for the past two hours, so Ronit leads us to a small structure. It's bigger than a port-a-potty but smaller than the girls' bathroom at Chicago Academy, where I go to school.

"Here. But you better hurry, girls."

We file inside the bathroom. The stench of pee/poo/ bacterial disinfectant creeps up my nostrils immediately.

Jess takes her designer sunglasses off her nose slowly. "This place stinks so bad my eyes are starting to water."

I plug my nose. "Seriously, Mutt's farts aren't this bad." (Mutt is my crazy dog, and yes, he is a mutt.)

I hurry to pull back a curtain, which I assume is the equivalent to a bathroom stall back home. When I peek at what's behind the curtain, I can't believe my eyes.

It's a hole. In the ground.

Okay, so that's not entirely the right way to describe it.

It's a hole in the ground with two rubber non-skid mats in the shape of feet on either side of it... I guess for dumb people who have no clue where to place their feet.

"I can't pee in that," I say, but saying the word 'pee' makes my urge to do it that much stronger.

Jess whines. "Do you think I can hold it in for two weeks?"

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I look back at Ronit. "Do you have any bathrooms with toilets?"

"This
is
a bathroom. And that's a toilet."

"No, that's a hole."

Ronit was previously cheery, but I think we've cracked her and now she's bordering on annoyed. She steps forward. "This isn't a hotel or spa, ladies. It's the IDF. Now either pee or not, I don't care. But you have three minutes to do your business and head to the
cheder ochel
to eat, or you'll be finding yourselves assigned to bathroom cleaning duties."

With that, Ronit leaves the three of us alone.

"I hate her," Jess says.

Miranda's mouth starts to quiver. I'm not sure if it's because she's late for lunch or because she doesn't know how to pee in a hole.

"My bladder is about to burst," I say, pushing past Jessica and closing the curtain shut.

"I'll go in the one next to you," Jess says.

I notice the graffiti on the side wall. In pen, someone etched words in English. It says:
Beware of the Loof!

What
or
who
is the Loof ?

I don't have time to think about the Loof too hard. I put my feet on the rubber pads and pull down my shorts. But when I try and squat, they're in the way.

"I can't squat for this long," Jess says. "My thigh muscles are starting to quiver."

"I think I just peed on my leg," Miranda informs us. Eww!

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"When I'm finally in position, I can't relax because I'm listening to my two friends complain. "Shut up, guys. My pee is getting stage fright from listening to you both yapping."

"Thirty seconds!" Ronit yells from outside.

Yeah, as if pressure is going to help me relax.

I hear Miranda wash her hands and head outside. Then I hear Jess washing her hands by the sink. "Hurry up, Amy," she whispers loudly. "I don't want to do doo-doo duty."

I look down at the hole, to see if I am aiming in the right spot. "Oh, shit!" I yell. "My sunglasses fell in the hole!" I forgot they were on top of my head!

"If you stick your hand down there to get them, I cannot be best friends with you anymore. Just leave them!" Jess calls out. "And hurry up!"

"Those cost me $235."

"Now they're worth nothing. Come on!"

For a nanosecond I contemplate fishing them out of the crap (literally) below, but... I just can't. I think if I did I'd require more therapy than I already need.

Wiping myself (with brown toilet paper resembling brown paper towels they have in the art room at school-- which I now know is very scratchy and irritating on sensitive body parts) and putting my undies and shorts back on, I pray that I see Avi soon. Because this army experience is not me, and while I knew that the experience would be challenging, I also knew that seeing Avi for even a little bit would be worth it.

Now if I could just find my boyfriend...

25

Chapter 5

There are some things God never intended girls to do
--
squatting when peeing is definitely high up on that list.

Lunch was in a hot and sweaty coed building. "Well, to be specific, I was hot and sweaty... the room was just hot. I caught a glimpse of Nathan, who seemed to be entertaining his table because everyone was focused on him. The meal consisted of overcooked chicken (considering I only eat white meat and came to lunch late, I was stuck eating legs and thighs), yellow rice, and a pea/mushroom concoction. Drinks were a choice of room-temperature tap water or room-temperature tap water (you guessed it, there wasn't a choice at all). And I'm not sure Israelis know what ice is, because every time I asked for it they got a confused look on their face.

Oh, yeah. They had hot coffee and hot tea as drink

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alternatives, but I don't drink those and anyway who in their right mind would want a hot beverage when it feels like it's a hundred degrees outside? There wasn't even a Coke machine.

At the end of our hurried meal, we all place our garbage in cans and the plates/silverware in plastic bins, and are instructed to line up outside in neat rows.

Someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, hoping against all hope that it's Avi, but it's not. "Oh, it's you.

Nathan puts his arm around me. "Oh, come on. Admit that you missed me."

"We've only been apart for a little more than an hour, Nathan. Give me time to miss you." I shrug his arm off me. "I see you've made friends already."

"The guys in my unit are cool, but I'd rather bunk with you girls," he says as we line up with the others like good little soldiers. For over twenty minutes we're taught how to get in formation. Five rows of eight people each, an arm's length apart. "At ease" is hands behind your back with your legs spread shoulder width apart. "Attention" is saluting with your feet together.

Ronit is standing in front of the entire group, with Sergeant "Don't-Call-Me-Ben"-Shimon next to her.

"Let's just say I'm glad you're on the other side of the base," I whisper to Nathan as the sergeant starts talking.

"I can always sneak out with the guys and peek in on you girls while you're changing," he whispers back.

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I wish I could talk louder but everyone is quiet, listening to the sergeant. I'll have to get briefed later on what he's saying, because I'm not listening. Instead, I whisper, "Nathan, you're a perv."

"We can call it Operation Boobie Watch," he whispers back, but emphasizes the word "boobie," which he knows I hate.
Boobage, boobie, jugs, hammocks,
etc... I hate all the nicknames for boobs.

Operation Boobie Watch?
Eww! I know Nathan doesn't mean it. He's just trying to get a rise out of me because it entertains him. He knows how to push my buttons... especially when it comes to boobs.

God gave me this body, but I really wish he'd have given me less of it in the boob department.

In response to Nathan's comment, I shove him away from me. Which isn't the best idea in the world, because now Sergeant "Don't-Call-Me-Ben"-Shimon stops talking and focuses his ice-blue eyes on us.

"Tell me your names?"

Everyone is staring at us. We're in big trouble. Oh, crap. "Amy," I squeak out. Guess he didn't remember we already were introduced by the barracks.

"Nathan, sir!" I hear from my best guy friend/enemy/ annoyance beside me. He says it loud and clear, like he's been in the military his entire life instead of just one and a half hours.

"Amy, what was I just explaining?" the sergeant asks me.

Double oh-crap. I dare not tell the guy I was expecting

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to get the shortened version by asking my friends. Deciding there's no other way around it, I tell him the truth.

"I don't know... SIR!" I figure adding the 'sir' might earn
me
some brownie points--it seemed to work for Nathan. But from the sergeant's eyebrow-furrowing expression, I realize my 'sir didn't work.

He stands in front of Nathan and asks the same question. Nathan's response is the same as mine.

"You and you," the sergeant says, pointing to each of us. "Follow me."

We follow the guy to the front of the entire American trainee unit. Looking ahead, I see Jessica with a worried expression. She knows I'm not into the whole military thing.

"Give me twenty," the sergeant commands, with his hands on his hips.

"You mean like dollars?" I ask. "Or shekels? I mean, I left my purse back in my suitcase."

Nathan nudges me. "He means pushups, Amy. Not money."

Oh. Right. "I knew that," I lie. I'm sorry if when someone says "give me twenty" my mind doesn't automatically think of physical activity.

Nathan flashes me a "loser" sign on his forehead.

The sergeant points to us, then the ground.

Nathan gets into position on the ground, supporting himself by his toes and hands.

"Can I do it the girlie way?" I ask. "Our gym teacher

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Mr. Haraldson lets us." When the sergeant looks confused I add, "You know, with my knees on the ground."

"Fine."

I get in position next to Nathan, knowing my white shorts are now beyond repair. When Nathan starts, I start. My knees are on gravel, and rocks are digging into my skin.

After I do one pushup, sweat drips off my forehead and lands on the gravel beneath me. I do a few more, then stop to look over at Nathan. He's groaning after a few minutes and lies down on the dirt exhausted and sweaty like me.

"You both are weak. Get up."

The sergeant has Nathan and me stand side by side in front of everyone.
"Small
' is left,
yamean
is right. When I say
small,
you march with your left foot. When I say
yamean,
you march with your right foot. Understand?"

Nathan says, "Yes, sir!" like a total kiss-ass army recruit.

I raise my hand. "Excuse me, I have a question."

The sergeant looks at me as if I'm the stupidest person on earth. Sure, when it comes to marching I might lack the basic natural instincts. But get me on my own turf and I know all there is to know about the city and how to maneuver in it. Some people call Chicago a jungle, but it's my jungle and my turf.

I'm not used to this military jungle, though.

"What
zee
problem?" he says impatiently. It's weird-- when Israelis get upset their accent gets more pronounced. I know that from my dad, because he's Israeli.

30

Everyone is still watching, which makes me nervous. I even hear a few snickers from the American guys. Remind me to listen to every single syllable Sergeant "Don't-Call-Me-Ben"-Shimon (from now on referred to as Sergeant B-S) says from this second forward. I don't want to be put front and center again.

The sun is glaring in my eyes. I squint up at the sergeant and silently curse the poop hole I dropped my sunglasses in. "Yeah, I was um... I was wondering if you lift your foot on the
smalls
and
ya'means
or if you put your foot down on them. Could you clarify, please?"

"You put your foot down on them," my boyfriend's voice says from behind me.

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Chapter 6

Avoid public humiliation at all costs
--
especially in front of your boyfriend.

I whirl around to see Avi. He's a few yards away, walking toward me. His face is tan and his profile is chiseled like a Roman statue. His hair is a little grown out from his buzz cut. He's so hot and sexy I can't help but stare in awe at my boyfriend who professed his love to me in letters (yes, he actually sits down and writes actual letters to me when he can't call), and in voicemail messages he left when he visited me in Chicago. I've saved them all and listen to them every time I need to hear his voice. Not being able to hold myself still any longer, I catapult forward and wrap my arms around his neck.

"Avi!" I cry into his chest. "Are you surprised?" "Very." He gently takes my wrists and unwinds them

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from around his neck. He salutes the sergeant, who says something in Hebrew. Avi answers.

So this is a time when I wish I knew Hebrew. I take Spanish. A few months ago I told my dad to stop speaking to me in English and only speak to me in Hebrew. That lasted about an hour, because I wanted to rip my hair out from not understanding him and got annoyed by his hand gestures when he pointed to objects, trying to give me hints. I wanted to learn Hebrew, not play charades.

Avi looks down at me. "We can't talk now."

Beside me, Nathan is tense. The last time I was reunited with Avi, back in January when he came to Chicago, he'd caught Nathan with his arm around my shoulders. It was not a happy time in our relationship, especially when Avi found out a few days later that Nathan and I had kissed in the cafeteria at school in front of half of the Chicago Academy student body.

But that was a long time ago. I'm here in Israel now, standing in front of my boyfriend who's in the Israeli military until he's at least twenty-one. Avi is wearing a sand-colored uniform, unlike most of the soldiers on the base who are wearing olive green. All of us Americans are still in our regular clothes, so we look out of place among the real soldiers.

"I know we can't talk right this second," I tell Avi. "But after I learn how to do the marching thing, do you have any free time so we can be alone? Just you and me."